Page 28 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. I was hoping to invite you to dinner and dancing.

When in Paris, yes?” She steps closer, her tone warming again.

“Actually, speaking of Bolan and Armin, the last time we were all in Paris, we happened upon each other at a delightfully private club with even more delightfully private rooms. Goodness, that must be two years ago now.” She makes a show of looking around.

“Where is your gorgeous brother? He never lets you out of his shadow for … this … long …”

A look of utter horror spreads over her face. Her golden skin pales.

I meet her wide-eyed, mortified gaze and say quietly, “I was always happiest in that shadow.”

She takes a shaky breath, then tries to speak, but doesn’t manage the words.

I just watch her, utter numbness spreading across my chest.

For just a moment, she forgot that Armin was dead.

They weren’t close. She’s feeling understandably thrown by being invited to court me, overcompensating. And she forgot.

It must be so peaceful.

Just to forget.

Just for one moment.

“He was the best of me,” I say hollowly, not even trying to hold back the words. “I’m not myself without him.”

Tears flood Tereza’s eyes. She looks away, dropping my gaze to blink rapidly.

That breaks the moment. “Please excuse me,” I say, moving to step away.

“Wait, Mirth,” she says, the use of that name driving an icy dagger through the numbness that’s flooded my chest. A name she’s never been invited to use. Not in public, anyway. “Please, I was trying …” She waves to her companions, beckoning them toward us .

They crowd around her in the next moment. The other golden-haired shifter still holds the two full glasses of champagne. One of them is for me, I assume.

Please don’t do this , I beg silently in my head. Please don’t mention my dead brother and then force me to be polite.

“You remember Lukas from school.” Tereza states it as if it’s a fact, gesturing toward the brown-haired, blue-eyed mage.

Lukas smiles politely, bowing shallowly. “Four years ahead, I believe. So probably not.”

I nod, unable to speak as the icy numbness envelops my heart. My soul?

“And,” Tereza purrs, “our newest companion, Radek. We met on a trip to the New York Phrontistery. Radek is a professor in shifter studies … well, before Lukas and I absconded with him.”

She winks at me knowingly.

Tall and obviously well muscled, Radek has hair and skin that’s a darker golden brown than Teresa’s. His eyes are closer to yellow than hazel. He is beautiful, with a wild sort of energy spilling off him.

But I can’t smile and pretend to forgive Tereza in this moment. I can’t forgive her for trying to distract me from her gaffe with the eye candy that she brings to the table.

All I needed was for her to stand in the moment with me. I didn’t need it to be fixed. It is fundamentally unfixable.

Smiling widely, Radek offers me the second glass of champagne, but Tereza deftly intercepts it before one of my guards has to step in.

He frowns deeply.

“Protocol.” She murmurs it so quietly that I read it from her lips more than hear her voice .

“A pleasure to meet you both,” I finally say, as sweet and smooth as I’m always meant to be. I nod toward Anne across the room, as if she’s flagged me. “I’m afraid I must get back. So many preparations. I’m sure you understand.”

I step away with that. Roz and Greg close in around me so abruptly that Radek starts as if facing a threat.

“But …” Tereza says, on the edge of beseeching.

Lukas lays his hand over her forearm, murmuring, “You really fucking bungled that.”

“Let me fix it, asshole.”

“You just tried to invite her and her dead brother to a fucking orgy, Teri. Let her walk away so she doesn’t have to say something that you’ll be the one to regret.”

I’m far enough away by the time Tereza replies that I miss her words.

Still, as I step up to Anne’s side, I catch sight of the bonded trio out of the corner of my eye.

Lukas has Tereza tucked under his arm. I’m fairly certain she’s brushing tears from her cheeks while Radek attempts to tease her with tiny crab cakes.

Anne threads her arm through mine, pulling me into the conversation as she says her own goodbyes.

I try and fail to ignore how the closeness between the bonded trio makes my ice-filled chest ache even harder.

I’m buckled into my seat on my private jet. Yes, ridiculously, this jet is just for my use. Now that Armin is dead. My books and devices and massive bottle of water are set out around me when the text message I’ve been heart-achingly waiting for silently appears on the screen of my phone.

Relief floods through me, shoving away the lingering icy numbness from my conversation with Tereza. I snatch up my phone.

I’m on my way. Where are you now? I’ll meet you.

Sully. Salvatore. The reason I accepted Chloe and Camille’s invitation, though I knew how slim a chance there was of just happening upon him.

I text back.

I’m already on the plane.

I’m sorry.

I should have texted you sooner. It was a last-minute thing.

Ah, love. That is disappointing. But you never, ever say sorry to me.

My heart pinches. I’ve been ridiculous, pushing Sully away. I know, I know it can’t be the same between us without Armin, but … I don’t want to lose Sully as well. There has to be a way I can have him in my life.

Before I can articulate any of that in a message, another text from Sully pops up on my screen.

Now, I need pictures. What’s on your to-buy list? No, wait, where are you heading? I’ll join you, and you can show me in person.

I laugh involuntarily. Across from me, Anne glances my way with a hopeful smile. Then she lifts her tablet. I know she’d love my input on the formal dinner that’s to precede the ball. And despite my stumble with Tereza, I feel ready to help.

I have to help Anne with some time-sensitive arrangements right now, but I’m pretty sure Chloe bought me something inappropriate. And I’m thinking of actually wearing it.

Inappropriate? Well, now I’m demanding pictures.

I giggle quietly. It’s a dress. Maybe two. And yes, I’ll share pictures .

I set my phone to the side and accept the tablet from Anne. She has a menu proposal for the dinner on the screen.

It features a whole roasted pig. I’m instantly not a fan of that idea.

I must grimace my distaste, because Anne laughs at me. “Just cross out anything you don’t like.”

Sully’s next text pops up on my phone. It’s a short vid, just of his face.

His hair is a dark blue. He’s painfully handsome, all his features so sharp that they might be sculpted from marble, but with tanned skin.

Though the ‘painfully’ part of that might be all me and how long I’ve denied myself his friendship.

He’s smirking at the camera, looking incredibly smug.

I don’t have the sound turned on on my phone, so I just watch his lips move. “I miss you, and I’ll see you soon.”

Feeling all sorts of oddly visceral reactions rattling around inside me, I watch the vid loop a few times. Okay, ten or so times. I can’t seem to stop staring at Sully’s lips and the tiny flash of his tongue … until I catch Anne watching me with a slight smile.

I send Sully back a purple heart, then tuck my phone away to focus on the dinner, then the proposed breakfast menu.

It’s only later that I realize that a purple heart — chosen because of my eye color — might have a different connotation. Now, at least.

Now, because Armin isn’t standing … not between Sully and me, but …

I’m not certain how to navigate that. And I really won’t have a chance to figure any such things out now.

Because I’ve lost more than just my brother.

I’ve lost the quieter sort of life that might have been mine.

A life in which I might have had the option to even contemplate asking Sully … asking Sully …

The evening that I hallucinated drafting that list of names, lost in my grief and mired in the overwhelming energy of the intersection point — I wrote Sully’s name on that paper. His full name and title. Though he doesn’t use that name and has no interest in claiming that title.

“Everything all right with Salvatore, darling?” Anne asks.

“Yes,” I say, not looking up from the tablet. “But I think the lobster risotto is too much, too heavy for the second course. Prawns?”

Anne brushes her fingers lightly against the back of my hand, and she lets me get away with the lie.