My devil.
The man who is my constant temptation.
Right now, frozen in place, he looks like something I should have. He looks like heaven, or at least some kind of divine intervention. Right now, I want that beautiful man across the room. If I lick it, it’s mine, right? Oh hell, how I want to lick him.
“Goddamn, that man can wear the shit out of that tux,” a loud New York-laced accent murmurs. An accent that used to cling to my words as well. But this voice belongs to Luce. Jack and Everly’s henchwoman. That’s what I call her, at least. I think the official title is an executive assistant or something.
I smile, but can’t seem to look away. And without missing a beat, I just say, “Mine.”
This is a picture I want to keep. Remember. He looks expensive and off-limits in that tuxedo. Classic black cut, crisp white shirt, black bow tie, and a black velvet jacket. His dark hair cut tight and gelled back on top, and sideburns that run into the manicured scruff along his cheeks, chin, and jawline. He’s politely smiling. I can tell it’s not a real smile, because the dimple on his cheek didn’t cave. That fucker only comes out on special occasions, when he’s truly laughing. Maybe I’ll see it later. Tonightisa special occasion, after all.
“Huh,” she tuts. That pulls my attention away from him, and over to her for a moment. She looks at me with her eyebrows pulled high and then back at the group we were both just shamelessly gawking at. “No shit? I really thought you two hated each otha. Go figure. I was talking about the one to his left. The Sherrif,” she says.
I don’t have the energy to correct her or spin some kind of truth that she’ll actually believe. So I stay quiet.
Henry looks around for a moment, like he knows he’s being watched. You are, big guy.I see you.Searching to his right, he drags his attention across the crowd, but I’m more in front of him than to his side. Before his gaze lands on me, Bea steps in front of my line of sight.
“Don’t,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Give me a fucking break, Bea,” I tell her, trying to seem unfazed. The energy I felt while looking at Henry wafts away. Bea has a habit of stomping the fire out quickly.
“Welp, kid, I’m going to say it anyway.” I take a steadying breath and prepare for whatever warding off she’s prepared to dish. She chugs down the rest of her soda.
“Nice,” I say as she burps into her fist.
“Shut it.” She points to my chest with her judgy, accusatory finger. “We have rules in place for a reason. There’s a lot of history there, I get it. But it doesn’t change the danger. I’m good at my job, because I plan thousands of steps ahead, and I’m telling you…” she pauses, looking over her shoulder. “There are too many flags. Do I need to list them out for you again? Think about his family. He’s photographed, and often. I just saw a picture of him and his brothers in Forbes.”
“You’re wasting your breath here. I’m not interested,” I lie.
“You forget I can smell a liar better than a fart,” she says.
I scoff.
“But you need to start living. Find someone you can enjoy. You two need to stop dancing around each other, waiting for the music to stop because, kid, it’s not going to stop.”
“I am living. I’m not waiting for anything.”
“You’re in witness protection, not purgatory.”
“Sometimes it feels like it,” I mumble to her.
“Oh, G. No, honey. Out of anyone I’ve ever met, you deserve to find your happy. But that”—she looks over her shoulder back toward Henry, once more for emphasis—“that is complicated. Find something easy. Something that’ll make you happy without the risk.”
But easy sounds boring, and happy seems like an illusion.
“Bea, this isn’t the place for this. I’m not equipped to handle this discussion right now. It’s Everly’s day. I’m just…” I don’t know what I am right now.
“Hey. Look at me. You chose to stay here. Even after you knew he was here. I allowed that, but only because you promised me it wouldn't be a problem. Don’t make it a problem.” She moves away, guiding our discussion closer to the main house. It’s clear she’s ready to leave.
“You’re not staying until midnight?” I ask.
She leans in, kisses my forehead, and says, “Nope. I have some others I need to check in on before the night is over. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I watch her leave, stopping periodically to say hello to folks from town who she’s gotten to know over the years. It makes me smile. The woman doused me in truth a few minutes ago, but she isn’t the cold cow I thought she was when I first entered the program. Bea really is the only person who knows all the parts of me. The details of what happened and the aftermath of it all.
When I turn back around, I’m met with a devilish smirk that reaches up and crinkles the corners of the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.Henry stands less than ten feet away, squared off, hands in his pockets, looking every bit as royal as he acts most of the time. I stare at him, refusing to give him a smile.Enemies. It’s an inner fight almost every time I see him because there’s a part of me, the part I can’t control, that wants to wave the white flag and dive into him. Because even on his coldest days, the ones when I’m a sarcastic asshole, and he’s a quiet grump, I still want to cozy up to him. Lean into the warmth that he’s burrowed somehow into my bones after years of watching me. Sparring. Waiting.
Listening to him talk about what trails are superior on our mountains and argue about how onion tastes different depending on how you cut or chop it. The safeness that radiates from his chest, unknowingly. Every day that I see him, it’s enough to keep me pushing forward. And while all of that is a truth that I’d never speak, hell, I can’t even believe I’ve allowed myself to think it... none of that is what I’m feeling right now.