Bound to You

Chapter 31

I'd never been to London. My parents had flown me all over the world on many different occasions, but London is one place I'd never had the honor of going. I felt like a little kid again, sitting next to you on the plane, holding your hand while I pointed out the window at the London skyline. It was so beautiful.

And your parents' house was even more beautiful.

"Wow," I said when you opened the front door and set our luggage just inside. "You didn't tell me you grew up in a mansion. Are you, like, a duke or something?"

You laughed and kicked the door shut. "Definitely not a Duke."

I hummed. "Shame."

You wrapped your arms around me and nuzzled into my neck, and I was in the middle of a giggle fit when I heard a door open and then a voice say, "John? Is that you?"

You pulled away from me just as a woman came into the room that I could only assume was your mother. You immediately went for her, hugging her tight to you and kissing her on both cheeks like the gentleman you were, but when you pulled away, and her eyes fell on me, her smile disappeared.

"Oh. Um. Are you...?"

To your credit, your smile didn't even falter. "Mum, this is Lena." You reached out for my hand and pulled me forward, when all I wanted was to disappear.

Your mother's mouth fell open. "This is Lena?"

At that, your smile did fall. I felt something awful settle into the pit of my stomach, but I stuck out my hand for your mother to shake. "Yes. Hi. I'm Lena. It's so wonderful to meet you."

She blinked at me, and then she reached out her hand and shook mine gently. "Oh, John," she said, and I jumped in.

"I think maybe I'll take our luggage to our room. If you'll just point me in the right direction."

"Rooms," Mrs. Warner hissed.

I froze, one hand on the handle of my luggage. "Excuse me?"

"Your room is downstairs, at the end of this hall here," she said, gesturing toward a wing of the house on the right. "At the very end. John's room is upstairs, next to mine, where it's been his entire life."

"Mum," you said, but your mother shushed you.

"In this house, you will sleep in separate bedrooms."

You ground your teeth together but didn't argue. "I'll help you," you said instead, reaching for me, but your mother put her hand on your arm.

"You stay. I'd like to have a word."

I looked at you, but I grabbed my suitcase and went in the direction that she motioned. But I wasn't even out of earshot when I heard your mother say, "How old is she?"

I was twenty-fucking-one, and I didn't think it really mattered anyway. I found the open doorway that I assumed must be my room and shut the door behind me. I didn't want to have to listen to the two of you trying to keep yours voices down while you discussed me.

I tossed my suitcase on the floor and fell onto the bed, a huge canopied and lacy thing. It would have been a fairy tale if not for your horrible mother.

A knock sounded, and I turned my head to see you coming into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Ignore her," you said, coming to sit down beside me. "She's old-fashioned and bit of drama queen. Don't take it to heart." You tilted my face up and kissed me, sliding your hands along my neck.

"What about your dad?" I asked when you pulled away, breathless. "Will he like me?"

You grinned. "He'll love you."