Chapter 230: Do Not Forget That You Are…

ADRIEN’S POV

But I am tired of fighting every moment of the day. For once, I want to sit somewhere warm and let the world continue without my participation.

Orion’s hand moves to the back of my head. "Do you feel better?"

"A little."

"Good."

I rest my head against the sofa.

He looks down at me. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You keep looking at me."

"Am I not allowed to?" I close my eyes. This feels comfortable.

"Unfortunately, I don’t think I can stop you." His fingers move through my hair.

I should probably tell him to stop. I do not.

There is something embarrassing about how much I have come to recognise his touch. I know the difference between the hand he places on my waist when he wants me close and the one that settles against my back when he is guiding me through a crowd.

I know the sound of his footsteps.

I know how he takes his coffee and how he looks when he is irritated by somebody speaking too much. I know that he prefers silence in the mornings and that he rarely sleeps as long as he claims to.

I have learned these things without meaning to.

Perhaps that is how people become attached.

Not through one great declaration or a sudden moment of understanding, but through the accumulation of ordinary things.

A hand held for too long. A familiar voice in another room. The quiet knowledge that somebody will be waiting when a door opens.

It is a dangerous way to become comfortable with a person like Orion. I know that, too. Yet I cannot bring myself to move away.

"Orion?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think Louise was happy?" The question leaves my mouth before I can reconsider it.

His fingers still. I open my eyes and turn slightly toward him.

"At any point," I add. "I mean, do you think she was ever happy?"

Orion looks at me for a moment. "Why does it matter?"

I consider the question. "I don’t know."

"That is becoming a habit."

I give him a tired look. He frowns.

I turn my attention to the windows. "I keep remembering her as a girl. Before everything became so complicated. She wasn’t always like this."

"People change."

"Yes, but..."

I stop speaking. I do not know how to explain what I am trying to say.

I remember the girl on the terrace steps. I remember the occasional smile, the sweets she pretended not to like, and the way she sometimes looked at the gardens as though she wished she could disappear into them.

I remember somebody who seemed lonely.

And then I remember the woman who spent years making other people miserable. I cannot bring those two versions together.

"Do you think she cared about anybody?" I ask.

Orion’s expression becomes unreadable. "Perhaps she did."

"That’s all?"

"What would you like me to say?"

I sigh. "I don’t know. Something useful."

"I doubt Louise would appreciate me inventing a kinder version of her simply because she is no longer here to contradict me."

I look at him. "You’re right."

"I usually am."

"Don’t ruin the moment."

His mouth curves into a sly grin.

I look down at my hands. "I just don’t want to think that she was always like that."

Orion studies me. "Why?"

"Because it would be sad."

"Her life was sad."

I look up. He says it without sympathy, but there is no cruelty in the observation either.

It is simply an answer.

"That doesn’t excuse what she did," I say.

"I didn’t suggest that it did."

"I know."

I lean back.

For some reason, I feel as though I have been carrying a responsibility that does not belong to me. As though I should be able to explain Louise because I knew her, or because I shared a family history with her, or because I was one of the people she chose to hurt.

But I cannot. Perhaps nobody can.

Maybe there are people who leave this world without ever allowing anyone to understand them. Maybe there are lives that become so tangled in resentment and old wounds that even the people closest to them cannot tell where the pain ends and the cruelty begins.

I do not know whether Louise was a victim of the people who raised her, a willing participant in the damage she caused, or both.

I only know that she is gone. And the questions have remained.

"I suppose it doesn’t matter now," I murmur.

Orion’s hand closes around mine. "It doesn’t have to."

I look at our joined hands.

"You’re very good at making things sound simple."

"Most things are quite simple."

"Not everything."

"No."

He brings my hand to his mouth and presses his lips against my knuckles. His eyes remain on me.

"Some things are not worth making difficult."

I frown. "That sounds suspiciously like something you would say when trying to justify your behaviour."

"It seems that you know me too well."

"Unfortunately."

He gives a quiet laugh.

It is a rare sound, and I find myself looking at him.

For all his wealth and influence, Orion has never been an easy man to understand. His moods are difficult to predict, and his patience can be more unsettling than his anger.

He can be attentive in ways that make me forget how quickly he can become demanding. He has a way of making the world outside his attention seem unimportant.

Sometimes I think that is the most dangerous thing about him. He does not need to convince me that I should stay. He only needs to make leaving feel less appealing.

I look at the rain again. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

His thumb moves over my hand. "Where else would I go?"

"I don’t know. You have a whole building full of rooms."

"And yet this is where I intend to sleep."

I glance at him. "You’re very sure of yourself."

"I have been accused of that."

I shake my head wryly. He leans closer and brushes a loose strand of hair away from my forehead.

"Would you like me to take you to bed?"