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What if he didn’t?
Oh no, I was not going there. He was definitely screwing with me. I didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t using his magic.
I gave up on my shirt and whirled around to face him. “Clearly, you missed me.”
“Did I?” His brow curved along with his lips, a tattoo creeping up the side of his neck.
“That, or fae have no concept of personal space.” I took a step back.
He moved closer. “I’m just waiting.”
My eyes narrowed. “For what?”
He leaned in, his mouth angled precariously over mine, his breath hot on my face. I bit my lower lip and waited, all too aware that letting him be this close to me was a terrible idea. If I wasn’t careful, I might find him kissing me again. My breath hitched in my throat, but I didn’t move. I didn’t dare. Our eyes locked, and I knew we were on dangerous ground.
“An apology,” he whispered.
I recoiled. “I’d sit down, then, because you are going to be waiting a long time.”
He gave me that stupid smirk—the one that could probably melt panties. Gage knew exactly what he was doing, baiting me like this, waiting for me to explode. Probably so he could kiss me again and claim it was to shut me up. But I’d fallen for that trick before, and my panties were staying on, thankyouverymuch.
“I’ll apologize when you do, Gage.”
“Why would I apologize?”
“Exactly.” I started around him toward the much larger bedroom, where there was more space for the three of us—me, him, and his enormous ego. “Are you done torturing me yet?”
His lip curled back, a soft snarl escaping him as he blocked me. “My mere presence is torture? Because I’m irresistible, or because you can’t stop thinking about that kiss?”
I swallowed, reaching for every ounce of anger I could summon before he realized how close to the mark he’d hit. “Because every time I look at you, I see the biggest mistake of my life.”
His shoulders went rigid, his tattoos moving so swiftly that they appeared to cloak him entirely in ink. He seemed even larger, as if he belonged entirely to those writhing words and symbols. He advanced one step toward me. “I assure you that the feeling is entirely mutual.”
He relaxed, allowing his scowl to soften to a smile that spread so rapidly, I braced myself. “And to answer your question: the torture is just beginning.”
…
There was torture and then there was a dress fitting.
Until this moment, the closest I’d come to one in my life was the time I’d gotten a zipper stuck trying on a skirt and the fitting room attendant had needed to use scissors to cut me out of it. I’d thought that was embarrassing. I was wrong.
I’d bypassed embarrassment an hour ago, when I’d stepped onto the stool and discovered Gage had claimed a chair to watch. Having two fae seamstresses pinning and sighing and debating in front of him was the definition of humiliation. I’d ratcheted straight to kill-me-now-please when he picked up a folder from the table, flipped it open, and began to read from it out loud.
“Truancy by age eleven.”
My breath hitched.
He didn’t seem to notice as he continued rattling off a list of my sins. “Trespassing by thirteen. Shoplifting that year, too. Now this is interesting: at fourteen, possession of clover and assault. I knew you had it in you.”
“How did you get that?” I demanded in a hollow voice.
One side of his mouth crooked up. “I have my ways. I find it’s smart to look into anyone who threatens to kill you.” I fought a wave of nausea as he flipped ahead. “Such a colorful past, and you were worried about Channing.”
My colorful past was exactly why I was worried about Channing. I’d paid a high price for those mistakes. I refused to let the same thing happen to my brother.
“Those records are sealed,” I whispered.
“Yes, they are, but sealing them doesn’t erase them.” He tapped a finger on his glass. “But then at fifteen, nothing. It’s a remarkable turnaround.”