Page 49 of His Ruthless Match

Grelth paused, his face twisting into something akin to disdain as he glanced at Jareth. “I don’t know. Am I, Master Jareth?”

Jareth’s jaw tightened. He looked like he was about to deny the request, but then his gaze shifted to me. My expression must have said it all because he sighed. “Fine. Grab yourself a plate.”

Grelth smirked and shuffled back into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned, loaded his plate to near breaking, and plopped down at the head of the table. His smugness was palpable.

For a while, the only sound was the clinking of silverware and the occasional hum of appreciation. The food was incredible—perfectly seasoned, cooked to perfection, and better than any overpriced meal I’d had in Manhattan. I was so hungry I didn’t care about table etiquette, and by the looks of it, neither did Jareth nor Grelth.

Eventually, I broke the silence. “So, Grelth,” I began, setting down my fork. “What do you do for Jareth?”

Jareth stiffened. “Eva?—”

Grelth cut him off with a dramatic sigh. “Where to start? I cook. I clean. I do his laundry. Yardwork. Ward maintenance. I arrange his appointments, I order his groceries?—”

“I think she gets it,” Jareth interjected, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

I grinned. “You know, I really despise men who can’t take care of themselves.”

Grelth nodded solemnly. “As you should, Miss Eva.”

“Hey, you guys know I’m sitting right here, right?” Jareth said incredulously, his hands raised in mock surrender.

Ignoring him, I continued, “Forget flowers or expensive jewelry. Give me a man who fills my fridge, cooks a good meal, cleans the house, and runs me a hot bath.”

Grelth nodded again, clearly enjoying the conversation.

Jareth groaned, leaning back in his chair. “For the record, Icando all those things. I choose not to. My schedule is too busy, and I have the means to pay someone else. What’s so wrong with that?”

I shrugged. “You do you, Jareth.” I turned my attention back to Grelth. “So, how did you end up working for Jareth?”

Jareth groaned again and buried his face in his hands. “Here we go.”

Grelth launched into his story with relish. “I once served a powerful fae lord,” he began dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Centuries of tireless service. And do you know how I was repaid? With gross underappreciation.”

“Is that so?” I asked, intrigued.

“Oh, yes. I insulted him one too many times, and he had the audacity to kick me out.Me.”

I stifled a grin. “So you retired?”

“More like relocated,” Grelth said with a dismissive wave. “I ended up on the opposite side of The Below and found myself in a seedy gambling den one night. That’s where I met dear Jareth.”

Jareth was rubbing his temples now. “Don’t?—”

Grelth smirked. “He was drunk. Sloppy drunk. Challenged me to a game of cards and lost spectacularly. Then he had the nerve to offer me a job.”

“And you accepted?” I asked.

Grelth’s expression turned wry. “Boredom and pity, Miss Eva. Boredom and pity.”

I burst out laughing. “I like you, Grelth.”

“I like you, too, Miss Eva,” he said with a small bow. “You’re far too interesting to be wasting your time with this one.”

“Hey!” Jareth glared at him, then stood abruptly. “I think I’ve had enough of this small talk. Eva, would you like to take a walk down the beach?”

The sudden question caught me off guard. “Uh…sure.”

He seemed to catch himself, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “You know, since you’re trapped in that gods-awful city day in and day out.”