ChapterTwenty-Six
Soren
The cottage is my place of refuge, away from all the crap that happens in my home. It’s the only place I feel like I can be myself. Not the son of a drug kingpin or the next in line to the throne. Just me, Soren,a guy who likes organization, loose leaf tea, and silence.
Nana accepts my company without question, offering me tea and cookies to have in the den before she retires for the evening. I’m just trying to think about what to do when a tap comes from the back door. It’s the lightest sound, so timid, mousy, and full of fear. When I open the door, Alex stands on the porch, huddled in on herself. She shivers, her teeth chattering as she stares at my shoes.
“Did you not think about grabbing a jacket?” I chide while tugging her inside. I grab a nearby fur throw and wrap it around her shoulders, sitting her firmly on the couch. The teacup I had filled with lavender and chamomile sits nearby, still hot, wisps of steam spilling over the walls made of fine porcelain. I extend it to her. “Don’t you ever think, Alex?”
She shudders as she accepts the cup. After a couple of sips, she closes her eyes and sighs, the tip of her nose glowing red from the chill. Or maybe it’s from something else.
“Wasn’t thinking.” She frowns and shakes her head. “No, I was thinking. But not about the cold. Running kept me warm, but I couldn’t find you at your house, so I just…” She hands me the teacup. “I like mine with lemon.”
Smirking, I stand up and shake my head, heading toward the doorway leading into the kitchen. “Fucking picky.”
“Where are you going?” She doesn’t look up, keeping her eyes hooked on her entwined fingers. “You can literally have a servant bring you whatever you want. You don’t have to get it yourself.”
I stop at the kitchen doorway. “I’m aware of that.”
“So, what are you doing?”
“Getting you a fucking slice of lemon, sweetheart. What else?”
She goes quiet, leaving me to proceed into the kitchen. I grab a fresh lemon from the counter, slice it thinly, and add two of the slices to the saucer of the teacup. When I return, she looks pissed but grateful. She accepts the teacup, adds the lemons, and hums contentedly after taking a sip. I sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her.
While I pour myself a fresh cup of tea, I listen to the clink of the china, the soft sigh that erupts from her lips, and the way the cushions scrape together as she adjusts her weight. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Never took you for a guy who likes tea.”
I shrug. “I like a lot of things people don’t expect.”
“Like?”
“Like you.”
I can feel her staring at me. I wait until I’ve got my tea prepared how I like it, with a little cream and honey, and then turn to her, meeting her gaze confidently.
“Me,” she repeats. “That’s weird.”
“How’s that weird? We’ve been spending time together, right?”
She hums. “Out of duty.”
“I can do something out of duty and also like it.”
“That’s weird, Soren.”
I chuckle. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been enjoying yourself.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then why did you come here tonight?”
Her lips part wordlessly, her pink tongue dancing behind her teeth as she silently reflects. The grin I wear is pleased. Proud. She’s caught in a web of my design—and that’s what I wanted. It’s good to see a plan well executed, even if it is a little shakily done.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask her. “What led you here?”