Page 47 of His Ruthless Match

“Thought so,” Grelth said smugly. “May I take your jacket, Miss Eva?”

“Thank you.” I shrugged off my coat and handed it to him.

Grelth disappeared into another room. Jareth was frowning at the floor, still trying to think of someone he’d brought home.

I smiled sweetly. “Well? Got anyone yet?”

“Shut up, Delgado.” He brushed past me. “Grelth, I thought you could make dinner for the two of us tonight. How about it?”

The moment Jareth casually announced that Grelth should whip us up some dinner, my stomach betrayed me with an audible grumble. It was mortifying, and Jareth, of course, caught it immediately.

“See? Even your stomach knows you’re hopeless,” he teased, smirking.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, refusing to dignify his comment with a response. Iwasstarving, but admitting it would be like handing him a victory on a silver platter. No way in hell was I giving him that satisfaction.

Grelth shot Jareth a look so nasty it could’ve curdled milk. Then, with surprising politeness, he turned to me. “Miss Eva, is there anything specific you’d like? Something you’re craving?”

“Oh, no,” I said quickly, waving my hand dismissively. “Whatever Jareth wants is fine.”

“Steak. I’m in the mood for steak.”

“That sounds great,” I said.

Grelth eyed me curiously. “Any food sensitivities or allergies I should know about?”

“Just no shellfish.”

Grelth nodded curtly. “Noted.” He hobbled off toward the kitchen, grumbling about “clueless cats” under his breath.

Jareth watched him go, then gestured toward Grelth with a dramatic flourish. “Look at him go. Such grace. Such positivity. He’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?”

I snorted. “He seems like a real treat.”

“Oh, he is. You should see him when he’s really excited. Sometimes his nose twitches. It’s downright adorable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that as Jareth gestured for me to sit.

The room was not at all what I’d expected. It was cozy and clean, with dark leather furniture and warm wooden accents that contrasted with the modern aesthetic I’d imagined for him. A plush rug lay under the coffee table, and a stone fireplace dominated the far wall, its mantle lined with candles that looked well-used. This was not a place that someone passed through out of necessity. It was lived in.

“Not a cat hair anywhere,” I remarked, running a hand over the back of the couch.

Jareth rolled his eyes. “Grelth does all the cleaning and cooking. And everything else, really.”

“That tracks,” I said dryly, earning an amused look from him. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I turned to him, hands on my hips, and cut to the chase. “Why do you think Gabe’s theory about Genevieve’s former co-stars is wrong?”

Shrugging, Jareth leaned back against the armrest like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Call it intuition or whatever you humans like to call it, but it feels too easy to pin this on a bunch of disgruntled ex-costars.”

I frowned at that. “Why?”

He straightened slightly, his expression turning serious. “Think about it. What would they stand to gain? They’re in the industry, so they know that pulling something like this could get them blacklisted for life. Unless there’s a solid motive—money, revenge, whatever—it’s not worth the risk. It just seems like they’re an easy scapegoat.”

I considered his point, chewing it over in my mind. As much as I hated to admit it, he might be onto something. “You could be right, but I still have to follow up on the lead.”

“Sure,” he said. “Follow the trail. Just don’t be surprised if it leads to a dead end.”

“Why do you assume it’ll lead to a dead end? What would you do differently, since you’re such an investigative genius?”

Jareth smirked. “All I’m saying is that you might want to think outside the box and take into consideration things that would be impossible in the real world that you know are possible due to your connection with The Below.”