Page 22 of Whispers of Wisteria (The Garden of Eternal Flowers #5)

Titus was sitting at his desk when we returned, and Maria left the two of us alone without prompting. I didn’t have to say anything—I had no time—before he looked up.

“Bianca?” He moved across the room and brushed his hand over my forehead. “Are you okay? Didn’t you have a good time with Maria?”

Sure. That wasn’t the problem.

“I like hanging out with Maria,” I told him. “We’re friends.”

His features tightened in confusion. “You’re upset.”

“Not about that,” I answered. “Or about anything that we did.” Which was also true. After all, I had no reason to be upset—nor feel guilty—about going to illegal fighting rings, or even Ernesto.

Titus frowned, and his gaze turned suspicious. “What did you two do?”

This was why we should have talked about our cover story, darn it. I should have wallowed later.

There was only one response that would deter a man. “Girl stuff.”

He narrowed his eyes. My response didn’t convince him, but he didn’t press the subject or ask again. And somehow, that was enough to ease the tension in my shoulders, at least a little.

It was rather nice not to be treated like an infant.

But then, the thing I’d been trying to ignore stabbed at me like the reopening of a barely healed wound.

I was going to go back.

I’d been avoiding this for ten years—since the first time they asked me.

“Bianca?” Titus was still frowning at me, and before I could pull away, he wrapped his hands around my waist, picked me up, and sat me on his desk. “Tell me why you’re upset.”

I internally groaned. The mere mention of something remotely girlish saved me when it was just Finn and me. But Titus—or any other man in my quintet—had not been swayed.

Was Finn just really weird?

Titus leaned over me, hands pressing against the desk on either side of my knees as he lowered his face level with mine. “Something’s bothering you.”

Well, better now than never.

I touched my fingers together in my lap, trying to stop my hands from shaking. “I’ll go to the house,” I said, feeling small. “Will that help?”

His arms tensed, and when he spoke, his voice was unreadable. “What house?”

My stomach knotted. Why did I have to explain?

“Mr. R-R-Richards…” A shiver shot down my spine; even his name felt evil to say. “M-Maria said you might need h-help…”

Titus didn’t reply, and I remained unable to look at anything other than his torso, so I had no idea what sort of expression he might be sporting.

The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were unbuttoned, and a thick gold chain hung around his neck.

And it was the strangest thing. Despite having basically seen him naked, I must not have been paying attention.

How could I not have noticed the light covering of fuzz over his chest?

Dark brown stood stark against sun-kissed skin.

It was lovely to look at: not too much hair, not entirely bare.

“You’re so confusing,” he said finally.

I did look up then. “Why?”

Wait, I’d forgotten—it could happen at any time. “Can you read my mind now?” My skin grew uncomfortably warm at the thought.

“No.” I couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking from his features, but there was a hint of red shadowing the green of his eyes. “I don’t need to. But I do think Miles and Damen are right.”

Why in the world were we talking about Miles and Damen?

Not that I minded. I liked them both a lot. But the boys had that weird rivalry: They didn’t want to talk about each other when alone with me.

“You try to find a distraction when you’re upset,” Titus answered.

Oh.

I remembered that theory. Miles had thought he was onto something, but he was wrong. And Damen had been so very cocky about it too.

How dare they tell the others this very incorrect thing.

They could be so assuming sometimes.

And why wouldn’t Titus need to read my mind?

Titus touched my chin, holding my face firmly. The red grew deeper as he said, “You’re not going anywhere near that house.”

Excuse me? Indignation began to stir in my stomach. “Yes, I am.”

His features tightened. “No, you’re not.”

How dare he try to manage my recovery. That’s what they’d all been going on about, right? That I should deal with this. He should be happy. “You can’t stop me.”

“You’re not ready!” He dropped his hand from my face, slamming his palm against the top of the table. “You can’t even say his name.”

My blood was hot, racing through me. “Eric Richards, Eric Richards, Eric Richards.”

“He’s not ‘Bloody Mary,’” he muttered. “That would be too easy.”

I ignored him. “I want to help!”

“The only reason you’re not scared right now is because you’re angry at me.”

“I’m not angry.” I huffed, crossing my arms. That was preposterous. I was entirely in charge of my emotions.

His mouth thinned, and his eyes flashed. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” This was stupid. I was going to go there and not speak a word. That way, I wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules, and they could do whatever they needed for their case.

Easy peasy.

Titus groaned, stepping back as he covered his eyes with his hand. “You’re so stubborn.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop it!” He dropped his arm and glared at me.

Glared. Like, how dare he.

“You’re extremely stubborn,” he said, almost accusingly. “But you’re not considering something.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my blood still burning.

“I’m more stubborn than you.” He crossed his arms, glowering.

“I have to be, and I’ve had lifetimes of practice.

Just like you’ve had lifetimes of sacrificing yourself for other people.

You’re still thinking of everyone else first. So, you’re not going unless you can convince me you want to.

Not that you’re doing it to impress Maria or any of us, or that you’re feeling pressured to help. We can figure this out without you.”

“But I want to go.” My voice wavered as my anger shook.

He cocked his head, and his pupils changed. A weight felt like it was pressing down on my shoulders as he studied me in a way that made my skin crawl. “I don’t believe you.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I moved back. “W-what are you doing?”

“Showing you why you’re not ready,” was his only reply. His features were surprisingly blank. “You’re not going to challenge me now?”

What the heck?

My ire began to swell once more. I searched through the items on Titus’s desk. Where was it? I’d left it here when Maria dragged me downstairs.

“What are you looking for?”

“My purse!” There it was—he’d set it behind his laptop. Right next to his drink, which was just a terrible place for a purse. It wasn’t like you could throw these things in the washing machine.

Zero consideration.

I grabbed the bag and blindly shoved my hand inside until I found what I sought.

I jumped off the desk and held up the can of pepper spray. “You can’t stop me. I’ve done it once before, and I’ll do it again!”

He was frowning at the pink can, cautious in a way that most animals were when confronted with something they feared. “It’ll hurt,” he pointed out.

My resolve wavered, but only slightly. I didn’t like the idea of hurting him, but sometimes, annoyingly overbearing men needed to understand that life wasn’t about them. For example, when we first met. I wasn’t about to let him tell me what to do, even if he thought it was for my own good.

“Yes, it will,” I agreed. “And your face doesn’t look pretty swollen either, but I’ll still do it!” I shook the can. “I’ll do it again and again and again until you realize that you’re not in charge of me.”

Titus laughed—the nerve—and closed the distance between us, pulling me closer. My face squished against him, with the pepper spray harmlessly pointing out to the side, rendering my weapon useless in terms of defense.

I should have been scared, especially considering how he’d just been acting, but I wasn’t. The can slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.

“Fine,” he said against my hair. “We’ll go together.”

Well, of course. I nodded.

“Damen and some of Gregory’s team, too.” He rubbed his hands in circles over my upper back.

Uncle Gregory could linger in the background like a fly on the wall; I didn’t care. But did Damen have to come? He was very pushy and had an issue with boundaries. He’d probably ask a million questions—rendering my plan not to talk useless. And I might throw up on him again.

Actually, maybe that was a good idea.

He’d proven helpful during moments of physical sickness. And it hadn’t been all that bad when I was talking to him in that tent in the woods. He’d been supportive since my period started—less moody than before.

“Fine,” I agreed.

Titus’s commands just kept on coming. “Don’t tell Julian right now.”

“Um…” I’d grabbed his shirt, not missing how his breath slightly hitched at the order. “Why?”

“Let’s just say that you’re not going to convince Julian it’s a good idea.” Titus’s reply was almost hesitant. “Damen and I will tell him when it’s time.”

“But…” I wasn’t sure about this, but I didn’t want to have a similar fight with Julian. “Will it be okay?”

“We’ll have Miles nearby to help,” Titus replied. “But Julian still has some issues to work through—it has nothing to do with you. I want to keep this small, but Bryce should also be there.”

Oh, come on! I stepped away from the dragon. After Bryce’s recent actions, I didn’t want to be around him at all right now. “Why?”

“Two reasons,” Titus began, squaring his shoulders.

“Believe it or not, besides Julian and me, he’s been the most outspoken about why you shouldn’t go.

When he finds out…” Titus frowned, pausing, before stating, “We cannot talk to him like Julian. He’s not one of us.

The only way he’ll shut up is either by me killing him or if you include him.

Besides, he might as well come. He’s there every day anyway. ”

I swallowed. Bryce had been there already?