With my legs still propped onto the settee, I cross my arms and quietly watch Eli pensively walk back and forth with a grim expression.

The man looks begrudgingly stunning even with his hair the victim of many tosses while his buttons have somehow—magically really—popped open from the top.

"Well, any thoughts?" he asked, turning on me abruptly as a massive piece of cake is midway into my mouth.

Clearing my throat, I silently point at the plate cradled in one hand. "As you can see, the only thoughts I have, pertain to indulging."

He strides over, peering down at the cake as of it were the criminal in all this. "How does that help matters?"

"Rationally? None whatsoever. This is purely emotional."

"Evara," Hawthorne grinds out, his jaw twitching with irritation.

Making a mild 'shooing' gesture with my free hand, I try dismissing the perfect view I have from all those buttons gone amiss. "Let a woman eat her cake in peace, Eli. I'm the one with all the death threats, not you. Why should you worry?"

"Of course I'm worried! That's exactly why I'm worried."

"Oh. Um, all right." Because really? What am I supposed to do with this sudden revelation of feelings? He can't just do that. Can he?

"Well, I think it's best if I befriend Winston since he's so keen—"

"No."

"Excuse me? Let me finish at least. I'm being serious here! I actually have a plan, if—"

"No."

"Eli Hawthorne. If you're not going to let me eat in peace than at least shut your mouth for a minute and be civil."

"I'm being perfectly civil. That's not an option worth even considering."

I stare agape at his dour expression, the seamlessly perfect mask slipping momentarily. "Look, I'm not thrilled about it either but today's friend is tomorrow's enemy right? Or however the saying goes."

"An enemy none the less."

"He's not going to open up to anyone else! Certainly not you or any of your guards. He's a knight! He knows when to be on guard. I might not have a sword but I can definitely claw and scream my way out of a dangerous situation. I thought you knew how capable I was at causing a scene." This guy is seriously underestimating the potential for the dramatics that a Villainess has in a fictional novel.

More silent pacing follows and I take this chance to eat a piece of cake but the plate is swiftly taken out of my hand and I watch mortified as Eli Hawthorne shoves a forkful into his mouth. "Fine. I don't like it, but if that's your reasoning then we'll go through with it."

"Did you have to take it out on the cake?" I whispered, narrowing my eyes as my beautiful chocolate slice is diminished within seconds.

"What about the Crown Prince? I'll handle Winston but you'll have to take care of the Prince," I said, passing a cup of coffee as Eli flinches from the rush of sugar hitting him.

"It won't be easy. He's not exactly one for audiences but that's not to say, I can't come up with a plausible excuse to request an appointment."

"What are we even meant to find," I grumbled with a sigh, leaning my head back as dead bodies, poisonous vials, a knight, and a dashing prince all cloud my head. When did the plot turn so dark? This was supposed to be a romance novel! When did it start to divert to thriller?

"Whatever we can—anything really. We need to find out what connects them because a knight who was once the son of a humble Baron has no business with the heir to the throne."

"Is there any way to narrow down our suspects based on a list of guests present at the hunting party? Surely, that list must be smaller than the number of wedding guests."

"Hmm, not a bad idea except I've gone over the list several times after your accident. There's no one I haven't looked into except..."

"Winston and the Crown Prince," I finished quietly, surprised that Hawthorne has been this thorough but knowing his nature and how much worth he places on reputation, I should expect no less.

Eli glances sideways, studying me closely and when my eyes catch his stare, he clears his throat. "That being the case, it still doesn't account for those two in the garden."

Tilting my head, I gesture for the coffee cup and he hands it to me wordlessly. "Do you think they were hired or acting on their own?"

"We'll have to find out, but promise me one thing."

"What?"

Flinging an arm around the settee to rest against the back of my head, he leans in perilously close. "Don't trust anyone."

"Since when has Evara Storm ever done that?" I returned—praying that my voice is as deadpan as I hope it is and not the miserable squeak it probably is.

"Because, if you end up in a situation like that incident before then I might do the unthinkable."

My eyes widen and I quickly divert my gaze, busying myself with plating another slice of cake—but like the first, Hawthorne easily snatches it with a lazy grin and makes a grand scene of enjoying it as I huff.

"Your answer?" he asked breezily, inching closer to pressure me and all the breathable air that's in the room.

Irritated, I stab the cake slice with a fork until it divides evenly in the centre. If the man is going to steal my cake then he can act as a designated holder—who am I to stop him?

"I distrust by nature, Duke," I replied, willing him to argue, but he doesn't and we both sit silently and share the same slice of cake with piping hot cups of coffee. Settling into a comfortable silence I didn't think was possible.

After several minutes of this, I turn suspiciously towards him. "Did you always have this big of a sweet tooth?"

"The pot calling the kettle black," he murmured, shaking his head.

"What? I'm genuinely asking."

"Why? Is it so difficult for you to believe that you and I might have something in common?"

"No...but now that you've mentioned it, yes."

A look of annoyance passes over him and before I can elaborate, he ruffles my hair until perfectly styled and placed strands turn into a bird's nest.

"How old are you?" I snapped, groaning as I try taming the mess he's made and wishing to the universe that I was on par with him physically so I could place him in a choke hold.

One minute we're conspiring to investigate, another moment we're eating in peace, and now this. Whatever this is.

"It's not that bad."

"Then let me ruin your perfectly intact hair."

"Perfectly intact?"

Rolling my eyes, I swat his hand away as he tries smoothing out a lock. "Ergh, there you go again. Fixating on selective words without focusing on the construction of the entire sentence!"

"How unfortunate. Blame it on my age," he replied nonplussed.

Glaring as he breaks out into laughter, I let him relish it for a millisecond before slicing a hand through the air and tousling his hair until it's as unsightly as mine.

"There. Now. Now it's perfect," I declared with a broad smile stretching across my face.

Eli lets me relish with satisfaction and the minute I let my guard down, he pins me down until we're both glaring at one another—the air charged by something all too familiar and the laughter from either of us turns into questioning, curious looks.

***********