All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(55)

I turned to walk away and, with surprising speed and force, Gable aimed his wheelchair at me. I was knocked over on to his hospital bed. At that moment, Win ran into the room and pushed Gable’s chair away from me.

‘Get off of her!’ Win yelled.

Win raised a fist towards Gable’s face.

‘Don’t! You’ll hurt him,’ I said to Win.

Win lowered his arm.

‘Who the hell is this?’ Gable asked.

‘My friend,’ I replied.

‘The kind of friend you kiss on the mouth, I’m betting,’ Gable replied. ‘Yes, now this makes sense. What’s your friend’s name? You look familiar.’

Win and I exchanged looks.

‘My name is Win, but you can think of me as Annie’s friend who doesn’t like men that force themselves on women.’

Then we left.

I didn’t speak to Win until we were on the train home.

‘You shouldn’t have burst in like that,’ I said.

Win shrugged.

‘I had it under control,’ I assured him.

‘I know you did, lass. You’re the toughest girl I know.’

‘“Lass”? Where did that come from?’

‘I don’t know. I just felt the urge to call you that. Does it bother you?’

I thought about his question. ‘It’s kind of girly but, no, I guess not.’ I put my head in the crook of his arm. ‘Were you waiting out there the whole time?’

‘Yes, I suppose I was.’

‘Gable will figure out who you are, and once he does, everyone will know about us,’ I said.

‘Maybe it won’t be so bad?’ Win said. ‘I wouldn’t care if people did know. Besides, Gable could decide to keep the information to himself.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘Well . . . to blackmail us or something?’

‘Maybe.’ But I knew that blackmail wasn’t Gable Arsley’s style. Blackmail required planning, patience. Gable was all impulse.

When we got off the train in New York City, the paparazzi were waiting for us. ‘Hey, kids! Look over here! Smile!’

‘I guess Gable figured it out,’ Win whispered to me.

‘Anya, is that your boyfriend?’

‘He’s my friend from school,’ I yelled out. ‘We’re lab partners.’

‘Yeah, right.’

The pictures were everywhere by the next morning. They’d gotten one of us kissing as we left the train. The headlines were all something like ‘Star-Crossed Lovers? Bravta Princess and Asst. DA’s Son Find Love in the City’.

Win called me in the afternoon.

‘Are you calling to break up?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he replied, a bit amused. ‘My dad wants you to come to dinner tonight.’

‘Was he angry?’

‘He never asked me not to date you. He asked you, remember?’

‘So, you mean he’s mad at me? I think I’d rather not come, thanks.’

‘Are you scared? That’s not like you.’

I asked him what time I should be there.

‘Seven,’ Win replied. ‘I’d come get you if you didn’t mind another photo session,’ he joked.

‘Why do you sound so damn happy?’

‘Hmm. I suppose I’m sort of glad people know you’re my girlfriend.’

‘What should I wear?’ I asked gruffly.

‘I’m partial to that red dress of yours,’ he said.

I put on my trusty red dress and took a bus to Win’s house. It was a much nicer apartment than the salary of the assistant DA (or the DA for that matter) could afford. Either Win’s mother had made a killing in farming (possible), or there was family money.

Charles Delacroix opened the door before I even had a chance to ring the bell. He’d been waiting for me. He seemed significantly smaller inside this apartment than he had that day at Liberty and on the boat. It was as if he had the ability to expand or contract as the situation required. ‘You’re looking well, Anya. Much better than the last time we met.’

‘Yes. I’m feeling better,’ I said.

‘Win is with my wife procuring some essential missing ingredient for dinner. Why don’t you come into my study. We’ll talk and wait.’

I followed him into the study, which had red walls and rugs and mahogany shelves filled with paper books.

‘You collect books?’

Charles Delacroix shook his head. ‘My wife’s father did.’

That settled that. Win’s mother was the one with the money. On Mr Delacroix’s screen was one of the articles about Win and me.

‘The truth is, I orchestrated this,’ Charles Delacroix admitted. ‘I wanted us to meet alone, so I’ll cut to the chase here. Win tells me he’s in love with you. Is that right?’

I nodded.

‘And you’re in love with him? Or are you too practical for such indiscretions?’

‘We haven’t known each other very long,’ I began, ‘but I think I might be.’

Charles Delacroix rubbed his neck with his skinny, uncalloused fingers. ‘All right, then. It is what it is.’ He sighed. It seemed as if he were going to continue speaking, but he said nothing. Instead, he poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter.