Chapter 133: Chapter 133

Maybe Sebastian was right. This did not mean things had to change?

The blonde tried to imagine it. How he’d call Ravi, the large lad answering in a hurry, worn to the bones after long days of practice. He would try to make time for the blonde, he always did, but someone would be constantly shouting at him from the background, demanding his attention. Denis would not be a priority; it would be rugby, then Denis. Just as it was for him. First House Arnold, then Ravi. He tried to fit the pieces labelled Ravi into his life. Rotated the jigsaw puzzle’s edges, jamming the misaligned squares into place. All futile.

The car stopped, the rotor blades of the helicopter already circling slowly. They should have been out of here twenty minutes ago. No, that was wrong; they should not have been here to begin with.

Aarav opened the door to him, shouting something about his Maman calling three times, wondering what was taking so long. The Chilean party had already arrived. He got seated in the creamy cushion recliner, watching out the window with dread crawling up his throat. It settled just above his voice box, threatening to choke him out cold. Finally, it was happening. The panic had arrived.

Aarav checked in on him, her hand touching his shoulder gently as she gave him a once-over.

“You have some grass in your hair.” Her gloved hand reached out, brushing the brown-green strands from his curling quiff. To smile at her proved futile, but he did his best, praying for her to adhere to the professionalism she seemed to covet. Her mouth popped open, tension drawing like a bowstring. Her eyes searched his, looking for something he made sure she would not find. Aarav’s mouth closed as she bowed her head. Leaving him alone without another word.

If Ishani had been here, she would not have let him be; nosy was her middle name. He was glad she was already seated in front. Even if Aarav was right next to him, she kept her gaze averted, giving him the illusion of privacy.

Denis returned to his window. His heart squeezed as he looked up at the high-rising walls of the castle. The grey stone seemed to shimmer as they took off, the gain in altitude allowing him to glimpse the courtyards hiding within. To the right was the rugby stadium, the bleachers now expanding all around the rectangular field, and the grass a mixture of white lines and muddy patches.

The sight felt like too much as Denis once again told himself that things would work out. They could call, they could talk, perhaps occasionally they could even meet. It did not matter that he was still learning the ropes of the family business, that every waking hour was spent chatting, charming, scheming, and learning. He would carve out time. If that meant sustaining on five hours of sleep, so be it.

“Mr. Arnold.” He turned to Aarav, her face slightly pinched as she held out a satellite phone. “Mr. Lay is requesting you. There has been another issue with accounting for the regency villas in Bath.”

He rubbed his temples, as if the act would dispel the storm inside his head. “Give it to me.”

It was easy to fall into business mode, bleeding heart pushed aside, the clawing panic locked away in an airtight box. His lips curled without warmth. He didn’t even have time to think, to let his emotions run their course. As he answered the phone, forgetting about the castle far beneath him as well as the tall lad whose hands still branded his body, he had a sinking feeling that no, perhaps things would not work out. Not at all.

He fell into his chair, burying his face in his hands as his Maman closed the door to their wine lounge. The grand room had vaulted ceilings of dark oak, built-in bookshelves lining the walls, and a glass room containing thousands of wine bottles, all placed in individual cradles.

The table in front of the tired blonde was clean except for a dozen tall-stemmed glasses. On the slim pillars perched crystal cups reflecting the chandelier above. The Chileans had just left after a quite successful evening of discussion. The seven men and women were escorted out to their ride by their butler, Thomas.

His Maman placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him that things had turned out most satisfactory, that he’d handled the discussion of water rights like a true Head. The praise would have made him preen had it been any other day, as was, he barely nodded.

Shreya must have noticed, pulling out one of the French chairs; its legs straight, and its back curving in intricate patterns. She was dressed in dark clothing, wearing black like a brand after his father’s passing. It had been several months, and Denis wondered if he’d ever see her back in her usual silver and green attire.

“I was worried, Chéri.” Her voice was draped in silk. “With you cancelling the flight to Japan and now arriving late. It’s not like you. Is everything alright?”

Denis grasped his glass on the table, swirling the sliver of red liquid around. With ease, he raised the glass, coating his tongue in the cold sweetness of Sauternes. “Yes, Maman. Perfectly fine.”

It was obvious in the way her forehead deceitfully smoothened that she didn’t believe him. She leaned back against the intricate backrest, crossing her legs as she refilled her own glass, bringing it to her lips, sipping. Her gaze swept over him, pale blue eyes disarming. He was all too familiar with this dance, aware her posturing was nothing but a way to coax him into lowering his defences. Since Aarav was Shreya’s source of information, she would, without a doubt, know of the mysterious lad at Harvard. His downfall, as well as his saving grace, was her curiosity. For her to keep receiving information, she could not confront him, as doing so would expose Aarav’s espionage. They were at a stalemate, both pretending not to know of the other’s schemes.