“Rosalia, this is Henry Teller, the senator from New York. And this is his lovely wife, Eva. And you know Merrick Llwyd.”
“It’s a pleasure,” I said, leaning across to shake their hands.
“We all know Merrick Llwyd, don’t we?” Henry said, laughing. “He turns up like a bad penny more than Peregrine here.”
Everyone laughed and Merrick inclined his head gracefully. We sat around the table and the waiter brought two bottles of wine to the table. It was good I could drink because I had no idea what to say and I couldn’t relax the knot between my shoulder blades. I chatted with Eva and answered any questions the senator asked, but all I could think about was Merrick’s cobalt gaze. Fixed to me from the dark corner of the booth. Watching me past the hazy cigarette smoke wafting through the air.
Peregrine had his hands on me every second to the point of embarrassment. He kept his arm around my waist, his fingers pushed between my knees. His grip hard and hot on my bare skin. He kissed me openly, lavishing a confusing amount of compliments on me, and teased me like we were a real couple. Perhaps this was just his charming side, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt like he was claiming ownership.
The meal ended late and Henry and Eva announced they needed to get back. Peregrine walked them to the door, shook their hands, charming them until they were both smitten. Then he walked back to the table with a satisfied expression in his eyes. Whatever he’d set out to do at the beginning of the night, he’d succeeded.
I sat there, watching Henry and Eva disappear through the front doors with my heart pattering in my throat. Then it was just Peregrine, Merrick, and I and the tense silence between us. My husband emptied his glass and set it down with a sharp click and got to his feet.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already gone. Across the table, Merrick swirled his drink in slow, even motions. In the shadows, his eyes were a deep, velvety blue and his lids were heavy with something I’d never seen in them before.
“I suppose you think I’m a monster,” he said softly.
I shook my head.
“There’s nothing wrong with what I do. It’s always consensual,” he mused. “But, between you and me, Mrs. Calo, this might be one of the last times I do it.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised.
He shrugged. “I’m just ready for something different.”
“So why do it tonight?”
“Because you want it,” he said. “I want it. And despite all his jealousy, your husband wants it.”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “I can’t tell what he wants. He’s impossible to read.”
Merrick looked at me for a long time.
“Your husband is fascinating and in denial about a lot of things. I’ve always been good at reading people and he’s not an exception. Except he’s more like fragments, bits and pieces. He loves you, you know.”
I couldn’t speak.
“You are his agony and ecstasy,” Merrick said casually. “His muse, his obsession.”
“What?” I whispered.
“Have you ever wondered why he carves angels? Why he has a house full of them and yet he just keeps going?”
Of course I wondered what it was that kept him in his studio every night. I knew it was something private, some kind of obsessive ritual that helped him cope. But I also wasn’t sure that Peregrine understood himself well enough to give me a clear answer if I asked him. He only knew if he stopped, something dark would nip at his heels.
Merrick leaned over the table. “What does he call you when he’s so deep in you he can’t remember to guard his words?”
My heart thudded. My palms were slick.
“Angel,” I breathed.
Merrick sat back.
“I rest my case.”
Peregrine appeared at my side and I jumped, startled by his sudden arrival. Without speaking, he took my hand and pulled me from the seat and down the hall. My heart pounded and blood rushed in my ears. At some point, in the dark with his hand hot in mine, I felt Merrick’s fingers brush my hip and something thrummed through my body.