Grayson hasn’t stopped chewing on suckers, whatever he and his mom talked about clearly bothering him, but his face hadn’t changed, a total mask. I was starting to see through that, though.

“Did you know that love has the same side effects as cocaine?” I said. “It’s addictive. And butterflies in your stomach are real; they’re caused by adrenaline.”

His jaw tightened. “I don’t remember subscribing to Useless Facts Daily.”

My stomach rumbled. I’d barely eaten since I’d been with Grayson. I’d only managed to snack here and there on scraps I’d found at parties. It wasn’t sustainable. I knew that. I’d have to find a way to eat.

Grayson gazed at me with a strange look in his eyes, but it vanished. “Go find me something useful. I’m starting to rethink this deal we made.”

He walked off, weaving through Grecian columns. I left the opulent terrace to look for information—and something to eat. The only thing being served were pastries, though. I don’t want a fucking pastry. I want a plate of spaghetti.

Still, I snuck some truffles off the table anyway.

Across the way I spotted closely cropped silver curls and a light-gray suit. It was so hard to find time to talk to Uncle. I’d been swept away in Gray. I went to follow him, but a shoulder slammed into my back and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself on the thick ridges of the Grecian column.

“Oh, excuse me!”

Soft hands steadied me, pulling me back up, and I found the dark-brown eyes of Lottie du Lac. I quickly looked at the stony ground.

She lifted her hands. “You don’t have to look down. I’m not a Crowne.”

“We don’t look anyone in the eyes, Ms. du Lac.”

A moment passed; then she said, “You’re Grayson’s…?”

“Maid,” I supplied.

Silence. As if she was weighing my answer. Determining its authenticity.

I waited, curious of its weight too.

“You’re the one who brought me lemon cakes—”

“I didn’t know you were allergic, I swear,” I interrupted. Shit. Who was I to interrupt her? I waited, muscles tensed, for her to reply.

She exhaled. “No one does…except my girl, and my best friends. It’s an imperfection.”

Once again silence engulfed us. I couldn’t leave, though. Training told me to stay. A servant never left unless they’re dismissed, or the other person leaves first. So I stayed, and stared at the floor.

“So…” Lottie eventually said. “I know how maids talk.”

I wasn’t sure where this was going, so I stayed quiet. Lottie continued.

“It’s been so long since I really talked with him. My knowledge of him is a decade old. He’s probably not still excited over the first iPhone.”

I lifted my head, finally meeting her eyes. “Probably not.”