Page 35 of Bargains with Benefits
The rough outline I had sketched of Vincent was becoming clearer. The new lines were crisp, and the colors were filled in.
He didn’t live in Andiveron House.
When he’d told me of his morning and evening walks in the park, I’d questioned the proximity to his family home, but then I’d decided the distance of the walk might be the appeal. I hadn’t even imagined this scenario—his own apartment. It was too foreign a concept for old fae.
Vincent seemed to freeze as we stood at the entry to his home. It was as if he took it in with fresh eyes while I hung in his arms. After everything I’d learned about him in the last ten days, it really shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. It was just that no member of an old fae family left their home. I didn’t count, as I hadn’t ever been invited.
The door opened into a pristine living space. There was no way he’d intended to have me as a visitor today, but not an itemwas out of place. A brown leather sofa sat against one wall, and a sturdy wooden table and chairs were along the other. The kitchen, with a wood-burning stove, was beyond a half wall, and the apartment seemed to extend farther back, presumably to a bedroom.
I pursed my lips as his wind set me on the sofa. After meeting his parents tonight, I could imagine a few reasons why he’d want to leave.
It wasn’t done, though. He was old fae; he didn’t have some complicated half-fae heritage like me. I thought of his sister, Skye. They seemed so close. I would have never guessed they didn’t live under the same roof.
He mumbled something soft, putting a pillow under my foot to lift it, and disappeared into another room.
Feeling safe and completely mystified by my surroundings, I replayed the evening. No matter my attempts to dissuade us, the meal had felt like a date. We’d barely discussed the bargain or any comparable ways Vincent could position the inn to match the restaurant’s success. After my initial attempt at distance, talking about Darius, we’d slipped into easy conversation.
It hadn’t only been easy; it had been engaging. Vincent intrigued me on every level. He’d been so dismissive and rude at our first meeting—I remembered clearly that he hadn’t engaged with most of Earl’s attempts at conversation; he’d only done so when the opportunity to insult the tavern presented itself.
I had to believe he hid behind that dismissive distance because it was far from the male I’d gotten to know since making our bargain. Vincent was accustomed to being used for his family name and taste-maker status. It seemed even his parents weren’t above suggesting his next article. My body warmed in embarrassment at how easily I’d fallen into that same pattern—what he must have thought of me.
His wind whipped around me as he returned to the room with an armful of supplies. The wind was the most confusing thing of all. It didn’t seem to match any other part of him. Even if I ignored Vincent’s initial arrogance, he was still a fae of propriety. He often seemed embarrassed by its actions. As his wind wound through my hair, it had no such compunction. I liked it and was dying to know how much was within his control.
“How much does it hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head, not sure what he was referring to.
“Your foot.” He gestured.
“Truth be told, I’d forgotten about it.”
He flushed at my words. I reached toward my foot. My slipper was still on, but I winced as my toes wiggled. A piece of glass was still lodged through the slipper into my skin. Vincent had a bucket of water, a rag, soap, and strips of cloth with him. He set it all down and kneeled beside me.
“Let me.” His hands were warm. He must have run them under warm water when he’d filled the bucket. I held my breath as he lifted my foot, examining the damage. “It doesn’t look too deep, but I’ll need to pull it out and remove the slipper to be sure.”
I nodded, not remembering the last time someone had worried over me quite so needlessly. “It’s a small piece of glass.”
He glanced sideways at me. “I’ll pull it out on three. One.” His fingers wrapped around the large sliver. “Two.” He held my gaze, his brown eyes saying too much. They were so apologetic. His guilt was apparent, even though there was no conceivable way this was his fault and the damage was minor. “Three.” He glanced down and pulled.
I didn’t even feel it come out. He placed it on the table beside him, then tugged off my slipper. His brow furrowed as he leaned in to consider the slice. He brought the bucket ofwater closer to my foot and pulled out a rag, wringing it before using it to wash the cut.
“Vincent, you don’t have to do that.” I swatted at him and reached for the cloth. “Give that here.”
He held it back. “Just let me. You won’t see if you’ve cleaned it from that side.”
I wasn’t sure if he had a point, but he looked so intent on washing my foot as he rinsed the rag and scrubbed gently again, this time with soap. I let him continue, leaning back against the armrest as he worked. His movements were careful, like I was a fragile thing to cherish—the opposite of everything his parents had said about me.
“Vincent.” He glanced up through long lashes as he knelt at my feet. Warmth bloomed in my chest, and I wasn’t quite sure why. “What were you going to say before your parents arrived?”
His chuckle was low, almost dark. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I reached for his chin before I could stop myself. My fingers lifted his gaze to meet mine. “It does to me.” I swallowed. “They proved my question even more true than I could have realized.”
He winced.
“Sorry,” I said, realizing that sounded harsh. His parentshadsaid I wasn’t significant enough to matter.
“Don’t be.” He wrung the rag again. The water was a brownish red from the dirt and my blood, but he kept going. “Funny enough, I wanted to say I had perfect examples of hownotto act. My parents have always been that way. The more society changed around them, the more they clung to harmful and inaccurate beliefs about magic.”
