I used to hate it when he swore. His brow would twitch, and his fists would clench if he got really angry, and I always itched to comfort him, to make him feel better. But Theo was not the kind of man you controlled, least of all when he was worked up. He was the man you let control you, and you did it with a smile. It was understandable that he was agitated tonight. He was right about the people in attendance—they sucked up to my father because of the power he held as the governor of New York but talked behind his back the second he turned away. I was surprised that so many people showed up since the scandal broke leading to the Saint James family downfall.
He dropped the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, damp from the earlier rain showers, and extinguished with the tip of his shoe. “Go back inside, Della.”
The nickname I preferred to be called eased the tightness that had formed in my chest since the night began. There was only so much smiling and thanking people I could do while listening to their empty condolences as if they cared my father was dead. They didn’t care when he was arrested. Why start now that he was buried next to my mother six feet under? “What about you?”
He looked me over, his eyes roaming over my covered form, the familiar black leather jacket cradling my body for warmth, before letting his eyes drift back up to mine. The slight shadow lining his square jaw was unlike him. He preferred to be clean-shaven, business called for as much. “Presentation is everything, Adele,” his ex-wife Mariska would always remind me whenever I told him I liked the stubble. It made him look as tough as his personality. No nonsense. Free. I used to think he shaved for her, but even after their divorce over four years ago, he kept up with the façade. Until now, I supposed.
“I’m going home. I did my part.” His pause, heavy sigh, and shifted weight made me wonder if he was reconsidering. He’d stayed almost all day to help set up since the people Aunt Sophie hired had bailed, something she’d been rambling on about when she called freaking out that she’d have to reschedule. I didn’t blame him for wanting to go, I just wished he didn’t. I wanted him to stay. For me. He asked, “Are you going to be okay? You got a ride back to your place?”
I nodded slowly, moving my wavy platinum blonde tresses out of my face. I’d dyed my normally light brown hair two months ago and was met by mixed reactions. But Theo told me he liked it, told me to ignore the “other assholes” who thought otherwise because their opinion didn’t matter. He of all people knew their opinions mattered to me too much. They always had growing up. I’d just wanted to pretend to be somebody else for a while—somebody blonde who had fun with little care. Maybe a piece of me even thought the hair color would appeal to Theo more than my natural did. Turned out, hair dye didn’t have magical powers.
“Aunt Lydia said she’d give me a ride back after cleanup. Are you…Will you be okay?” I knew how much he cared about my father. They were friends for a long time, most of their lives, having shared the most important milestones together every step of the way. When news broke that Anthony Saint James had been involved in a money laundering scandal that took funds from the state and people close to him who had invested in his endeavors, things had gotten bad. Theo was questioned because my father had once been a partner in his growing business, and he hadn’t been hit by the economic fraud my father was committing unlike others close in his circle. The investigators were sure they’d find him as guilty as my father, but there was never any evidence indicating as much. And Theo…he never left my side through it all. Not once during the trials or media blasts did he consider for a second abandoning me to the vultures that New York City, and my father, had fed me to.
His eyes closed momentarily. “I’m supposed to ask you that considering whose funeral we’re at.”
I let my shoulders lift, giving him the best smile I could under the circumstances. “We all lost somebody.”
“He was your father.”
Taking a daring step closer, I inhaled the strong cologne and tobacco mixture wafting from him. He was all man, all the time, in the way he smelled, acted, and carried himself. His blue eyes could see through me, and his smile, on the rare occurrence he gave one, melted the skin right off me.
“He was your friend,” I added softly.
The way he watched me, looked down at me with such intensity, had me shivering. “Are you cold?”
Slowly, I shook my head. Rising on my toes, I brushed my lips on the underside of his jaw, causing him to lock up. It was only a tiny caress, but his reaction made it seem like more. It always did when we got close. And we did. Often.
“Della.”
“Don’t worry.” I stepped away before he could say anything more or move from me first. That kind of rejection on a night like this was one I wouldn’t be able to walk away from without another piece of my heart shattering. “It was a goodnight kiss. Nothing more.”
His voice was rough, cracked. “It can’t be anything more, not even now. Never again. Do you understand?”
I blinked, noting the faint mark of
