Page 43

M y Oxfords strike the polished tile floor with measured strides as I put distance between myself and Briar. Each echoing footfall thrums like a metronome ticking off the seconds, marking the expansion of the gulf now yawning between us.

Raking a shaky hand through my dishevelled hair, I attempt to quell the uncharacteristic tremors rippling through my limbs. Get a fucking grip, Whitlocke—when did you become such a snivelling, emotionally incontinent whelp? One biting rejoinder from that little wildcat’s acid tongue shouldn’t be enough to rattle my stoic composure so thoroughly.

I’d overstepped, misread Briar’s unguarded reactions in the aftermath of our tryst as some imagined thawing of her defensive barriers. A right bloody fool, imagining for even an instant that she might permit the same intimacies extending beyond the physical into… what? Companionship? Tenderness?

Don’t delude yourself, Whitlocke.

After last weekend, I’d arrogantly assumed the wariness bleeding from her every pore had finally begun to ebb. That perhaps Briar recognized the scorching heat blazing between us as more than mere physical lust to be sated, then discarded. A naive flight of fancy—because for all my vaunted breeding and privilege, I’m clearly just as besotted and emotionally stunted as any dull-witted pleb blundering about in the thrall of their fragile human emotions.

Mercifully, the rhythmic squeak of shoes on tile reaches my ears, accompanied by the muffled cadence of familiar voices carrying down the corridor. Glancing up, I spot the unmistakable silhouettes of Hayes and Jace meandering closer, deep in some animated discussion. The muscles corded along my neck release a fraction of their tension at the welcome interruption from my spiralling thoughts.

As the pair draws nearer, I incline my head in wordless greeting, jaw still clenched. Jace arches one immaculately groomed brow, dark eyes glittering with impish mirth as he rakes me over with an inscrutable look. Twin dimples bracket the corners of Hayes’ full lips as he offers a lopsided grin, fingers lifting to brush an errant lock of chestnut hair away from his brow.

“Well, fancy meeting tall, dark, and brooding still out for a bit of moody lurking,” the irrepressible prick lilts in that rich burr. “Gym’s empty right now—Jace and I were just headed to pump some iron, maybe sweat out the demons. Care to join us?”

I consider the open invitation, rolling it around on my tongue as we resume our collective amble, angling towards the athletic facilities. On one hand, the prospect of expending some pent-up frustration through sheer physicality sounds incredibly cathartic after that clusterfuck with Briar. Pushing my body to its absolute limits in the sanctuary of the gym, embracing the scorching lactic burn searing through muscle and sinew until the internal turmoil recedes into a dull white noise.

On the other hand… what if the reprieve proves only temporary? What happens when my thoughts inevitably drift back to a certain woman with a tongue sharp enough to flay a man’s composure to ribbons? When the phantom echoes of our heated passion between the sheets taunt me with fleeting glimpses of a closeness now seemingly torn asunder?

I must hesitate a moment too long, because Hayes chuckles and loops one arm through mine in a casual, brotherly gesture. “C’mon, you miserable git—fresh air and exertion are exactly what the doctor ordered. You’ve been downright gloomy as a fucking storm cloud these past few days. Let’s see if we can’t put a smile back on that poncey mug, eh?”

Snorting out a reluctant huff of amusement, I allow the larger man to tug me along in their wake. Jace falls into step on my opposite side, hands shoved deep into the pockets of those obscenely tight denims that should be illegal. His gaze tracks over my expression, scrutinising whatever tells betray my inner turmoil. My shoulders stiffen instinctively beneath his piercing scrutiny.

“So what’s got your perfectly coiffed knickers all in a bunch today, Golden Boy?” Jace lilts in that maddeningly smug tone laced with faux innocence, all artfully tousled curls and bedroom eyes. “Trouble in bloody paradise once our feral little stray realised you aren’t Mister Prince Charming here to whisk her off into the sunset?”

Something dark and foreboding twinges low in my gut at his flippant observation. Although, before the beast of my temper can fully rouse itself, Hayes chimes in with a noisy cluck of his tongue.

“Give it a rest, Jace,” he chides. “Poor sod’s probably already kicking himself for whatever boneheaded misstep put that pinched grimace on his face without your cheeky chirping.” Those rich, whisky-warm eyes twinkle with mischief, darting from Jace to me and back again. “Maybe this’ll teach ol’ here not to take every petty outburst from Briar personally, eh? Surely he realises her bark is nastier than her bite by now.”

Their jocular banter manages to drag a huff of begrudging amusement from between my clenched teeth, the fine tension knotting between my shoulder blades continuing to loosen fractionally. Despite their unapologetic teasing barbs, both Hayes and Jace have been constants in my life longer than most could ever fathom. Like disreputable brothers who never hesitate dishing out harsh truth alongside their ribald antics.

“Alright, alright—enough, the pair of you,” I growl at last, rolling my shoulders in a shrug to displace their flanking embrace somewhat. Sucking in a fortifying breath through my nostrils, I pin them both with as stern a look as I can muster past the lingering shadows clouding my expression. “If you disreputable knaves insist on dragging me off to grind my muscles into paste, the least you can do is buy a man a protein shake after. On your bloody dimes, mind.”

Jace snickers, hand lifting to ruffle his tousled curls in a show of exaggerated disbelief. “Ohh, listen to Lady Moneybags snapping her fingers for refreshments!” One brow arches imperiously as he angles me a rakish smirk. “Whatever would the little duchess do without her loyal footmen running errands, eh?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d get by just fine on her own merits,” I deadpan, mustering my most withering sidelong glare. “Considering her appetite for hunting her food and dragging the still-twitching carcasses back to her hovel to feast upon. Adds some protein to the lean diet of rats and pigeons.”

Hayes barks out a rusty peal of laughter, clapping me heartily on the shoulder while Jace’s face splits into a wolfish grin. Their antics are working as intended, helping to lance the festering wound of self-pity before it can truly take root. We’ll reach the gym shortly, whereupon I can pour all of my roiling frustrations into the sweet ache of exertion until it eclipses everything else.

For now, at least. I’m not so naive as to believe this temporary reprieve is anything more than a band-aid scabbing over the deeper fractures my careless entanglement with Briar has wrought. We’re like a pair of combustible elements forced into an inescapable orbit, set on an irrevocable collision course until one of us detonates from the sheer proximity.