Except … they’d been so good together. Really good. And he’d been so good to her.
As for that horrific scene at the girl’s apartment? Although what had happened to Peyton’s cousin was tragic, she didn’t think Craeg would be so affected as to suffer some kind of mental or emotional collapse—
As her phone finally fucking rang, she raced across her room.
Only to curse when she saw it was just Peyton.
When she answered, she tried to keep her voice level. “Hey. How you doing?”
After the two of them had done that sad, sad duty with the female’s parents, they’d gone their separate ways for the day, but they hadn’t been out of touch. He’d texted her a number of incoherent things over the hours, which she took to mean that he’d put that bottle of vodka to good use.
“So we don’t have class tonight.”
“What?”
“It’s canceled for some reason so Anslam and I are going to Sal’s Restaurant. I’m gonna invite everyone else, too.”
As she struggled with the update, a crushing disappointment left her dizzy. She’d been counting on seeing Craeg and—
Peyton didn’t miss a beat, telling her to meet everyone there in an hour. Then he hung up and left her to hold her phone and stare at the dark screen.
Would Craeg even join them? she wondered.
Okay, this was bullshit. She was done waiting around like some stupid chick.
Taking a deep breath, she dialed a number from memory, one that she had learned about three nights into working at the audience house. When a doggen answered, she smiled professionally—as if the male could see her face, as if she wasn’t doing this for purely personal reasons.
“Hi, there,” she said. “This is Abalone’s daughter. I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you be so kind as to transfer me down to the training center’s clinic?”
“Oh, but of course, mistress!” came the cheerful reply. “Was there someone in particular you should wish to address?”
“Actually…” Maybe this would be easier than she’d thought. “I’m trying to reach the first of the five bedroom suites down there?”
“My pleasure, please hold while I look up the extension.” There was a beep … beep … beep. “Here it is. If you’d like to direct-dial in the future, may I give you the number?”
“Please.” Grabbing a pen, she scribbled it on the side of the Kleenex box next to her. “Thank you.”
“Or you may use this number always. We’re grateful to serve. Please hold.”
“Thank you again.”
As the beep … beep … beep came back over the line, her palms bloomed with a flush of heat and sweat, and she had to sit down, because her legs started to shake.
Then there was ringing.
“Hello?” Craeg said.
She swallowed hard—and then got frustrated with herself. “I was hoping you’d call.”
Long silence. “Hey.”
“Look, I don’t have the patience for this. What the hell is wrong?”
“Don’t you have more important things to do?”
“What?” she said sharply.
“You know, what with your cousin having been killed. Your family must be upset, too.”
“I’m more worried about you at the moment?” Naturally, she was upset about—
Paradise’s anger derailed as the words he’d spoken truly sank in. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I followed you home last night,” he said. “Which was maybe a shitty thing to do—but considering you’ve lied to me about who you are and where you came from, it’s a violation of privacy that was warranted. Just curious—were you ever going to tell me?”
She put her head in her hand. “Craeg…”
“I didn’t call you because I don’t actually know who I’m talking to, do I. Well, the daughter of the First Adviser to the King—Peyton was kind enough to clue me in on that one.”
“Listen, I…”
“You what? What were you going to say, Paradise?” His voice became even more strident. “And P.S., I am legitimately sorry about what happened to that female. As you are very aware, I’ve lost family, too. You remember how that went, don’t you?”
Abruptly, the horrific story of his father being locked out of safety while the aristocrats hid from the lessers came back with vicious clarify.
“I am not like those people from that house, Craeg. And I’m insulted that you lump me in with them just because I was born into my family. Do you think I had any choice in that?”
“Oh, you’re not like them. No, no, not at all—you just felt like having sex last night, so you let a commoner pop your cherry, even if that meant that technically I can be killed for the pleasure of having had your company. Yeah, you’re not like them at all. You don’t lie for your own purposes or anything. Nah, not you, sweetheart.”
“That is so unfair.”
He laughed in a hard burst. “Wait, wait, I know. You were waiting to give your father the best surprise birthday present ever. ‘Hey, Dad, guess what! I’m with a floor layer’s son—hash tag awesome.’”
Gritting her teeth, she found her emotions bouncing between anger and sorrow, regret and indignation. “I didn’t tell anyone who I was. Not just you.”
“Oh, I feel so much better now. Thanks.”