Page 108 of Reflections of Peonies
Titus, on the other hand, was driven by obsession, not curiosity.
Normal people found joy in simple things—long meditative walks, full moons, or tending a garden. I used to enjoy the feel of earth between my fingers, growing herbs with Mu. Cooking from scratch also had its charm. Mu had been a great sous-chef, and I bet Bianca would be the same.
My thoughts wandered. What else was fun?
Relaxing by a summer brook, feeling the cool water on your feet while working on a grimoire, or reading a book.
Andreina Bellini’s mindful erotica, especiallySinful Response, was a secret pleasure of mine. Just thinking about my hidden collection stirred something deep inside.
“There’s nothing wrong with taking a break,” I said, gently brushing my fingers through her hair. “I’m not upset about the French or anything else. Given what’s happened, taking a step back makes sense. However, I do have one suggestion…”
Her nervousness touched the air between us, and her voice was breathy when she asked. “Yes?”
“But you need to be the one to tell Titus,” I said softly. “He won’t be angry, but he’ll be hurt if you don’t let him know.”
17
Titus POV
The jewels sparkledunder the light as I examined the new setting for my mother’s heirloom. The original piece was nearly destroyed after being thrown into the fire. Though Bianca never mentioned it, I could sense she was upset. She wouldn’t have tried so desperately to save it otherwise, even while injured. And she wouldn’t continue to look at me with such guilt.
I wasn’t angry—disappointed that the original gold was lost, sure—but far from blaming her. Yet, bringing it up without a solution would only make her anxious. Reassurances alone wouldn’t suffice. Bianca wasn’t the type to accept words at face value.
I needed a different approach.
“Titus?”
Her voice cut through my concentration, and I turned, dropping the ring. We were in my garage—my space, since no one else cared about cars beyond driving them.
Bianca stood in the doorway, shuffling nervously as she watched me. The fact that I hadn’t noticed her entrance was… unsettling.
“Bianca?” Embarrassment tinged my voice. “When did you get in here?”
Miles was retreating to the main part of the house. He must have brought her. Bryce was still practicing his fighting forms in the adjacent workroom, his movements uninterrupted. He hadn’t heard his sister.
“Just now…” She sounded unsure, stepping into the room and biting her lip. “Can I talk to you?”
A sense of foreboding twisted in my gut at the hesitation in her voice, and my instincts stirred at the fear in her eyes. There was no reason for her to ever look at me like that.
My gift to her was still in plain view on the table, and I quickly covered it with an unused cloth. I faced her and crossed my arms. “Is something wrong?” Why would Miles bring her here? I thought she didn’t like messes.
“I’m not…” she began, but her attention drifted to the table. My heart raced as she asked, “What are you working on?”
“Nothing.” I struggled to keep my voice calm. There was only one way out of this now—one tactic. She was too focused, too intense.
“No.” She frowned. “It was something.”
I had to distract her. Before I knew it, I’d crossed the room, pulling her to me and turning away from the table. But now what? I couldn’t just kiss her. I needed to divert her attention, not terrify her.
“Is that Damen’s Jaguar?” she asked—her focus had already moved on.
I blinked, my nervous energy fading as interest piqued at the sudden gleam in her eyes. It felt as though she was judging me.
“Why did you rip apart Damen’s car?” She was frowning at the disassembled engine.
Shewasjudging me!
“That’s my car.” Not that it mattered. I had ripped apart Damen’s car more than once. “Mine is darker.”
