Page 54 of Scandal
“How?”
“It would be helpful if I could kiss you right now, but?—”
“You can kiss me,” she says in a rush.
“No.” An instant look of rejection spreads across her face. I grip her chin and angle her face so those brilliant blue eyes meet mine. “Not here. Not the first time, I mean. Not like this.”
Instead of kissing her lips, I do the next best thing and place a tender kiss on her forehead. I swear she holds her breath the whole time.
Maybe I do too.
When I pull back, I’m grinning as I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a woman on the forehead.”
“So a first for both of us?”
“Seems so.”
“Have you ever been greeted by an entire household staff, a countess, and one very tall earl?”
I laugh, sensing her nervousness. “Yes. Unfortunately, I have.”
“Yeah? And how’d it go?”
“Well, I learned that the longer you make them wait, the more insufferable they get.”
“I don’t like it when they get insufferable,” she mumbles. “So you’re saying we should get out of the car?”
I nod. “We should get out of the car.”
“Okay.”
“But, Merc?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be right by your side. We’re in this together, remember?”
Her smile is the last thing I see before I open the door, and I hear her say, “Together.”
Mercury
Meeting the staff turns out to be the easy part.
They are all extremely polite and courteous as Asher and I stop to greet each of them. Some are new and regard the young heir with a kind of wonder-struck curiosity. Others, who have been around for a while, greet him with the familiarity of a family member returning home after a long trip.
Afterward, we’re ushered into the house, and I’m struck by the same awe I felt the first time I walked into Blackstone House.
The opulence, history, and sheer size of the place. It’s hard to imagine growing up in a home like this. It’s not the kind of place where you’d see Legos scattered on the floor or a tricycle racing down the hallway.
It must have been quite lonely growing up here.
We follow Asher’s parents, and that’s when things start to get complicated.
“Mercury, this is Evie Scott,” the countess says as we gather in a beautifully decorated sitting room for tea. The walls are a deep hunter green, and the velvet sofas are burgundy. Books line the shelves, and I’m eager to touch all of them, but I sip my tea and try to focus. “She’s your personal assistant. She will be withyou for the duration of your stay at Blackstone House to help with everyday needs and ensure you stay on schedule.”
My gaze shifts from the countess and the earl, sitting on the sofa across from us, to the petite woman in the chair next to us. She’s beautiful, with pale, freckled skin and rosy cheeks. Her crimson hair is cut bluntly at her chin, making her hazel eyes stand out. The all-black suit, however, feels a bit severe, and I wonder if it’s a uniform rather than a personal choice.
“A personal assistant?” I simply blink.
