The Brothers Hawthorne (The Inheritance Games, #4)(37)

Grayson did not trust the boy’s tone. He turned his head slightly, silently, leaning so that he could barely see past the edge of the desk. Duncan Trowbridge hooked an arm around Savannah from behind, placing a hand flat on her stomach. That hand creeped upward.

“You could be nicer to people, you know,” Duncan murmured. “Including me.”

Grayson’s jaw tensed. He had no right to watch this, so he averted his eyes just as Duncan Trowbridge’s hand made it to the strap of Savannah’s top—and began working that strap down.

“I’m nice enough.” Savannah’s tone could have cut glass, but she didn’t step away from the boy. Grayson would have heard it if she had.

“Show me how nice you can be.”

“Come on, Duncan.” Now there was a step, an audible click against the part of the floor that wasn’t covered by the rug.

“You’re my girlfriend, Savannah.”

Grayson heard another step—this one, Duncan’s. Closing in on her. Bastard.

“You’re beautiful,” the boy continued, and the words struck Grayson as accusatory.

“We should get back to the party.” Savannah didn’t sound distressed. She sounded like a person with an ironclad grip on control.

“You’re the one who said you wanted privacy.” Duncan seemed to be trying to make those words low and inviting, but they must not have had the effect he intended. “What, you wanted privacy from me, too?”

“No.” Savannah spoke clearly. “Of course not.”

Was Grayson imagining the strain in her voice? Now that Savannah and Duncan had moved, he couldn’t see anything of either of them except for their feet. He looked to Gigi, whose eyes were wide.

“Then relax,” Duncan murmured.

Was she okay?

“I am relaxed.”

“Just let me touch you.”

Savannah’s heels sidestepped. “We should get back to the party. To your friends.”

“Be nice. They’re our friends.” He stepped closer to her even than he’d been before. She didn’t move. “Be nice,” Duncan Trowbridge murmured again, and whatever he was doing, Savannah just stood there.

Get your hands off my sister. Grayson could feel the words building inside him. It didn’t matter that saying them would reveal his presence in a room where he was not supposed to be. It didn’t matter that Savannah didn’t consider him her brother or that Gigi didn’t even know they were related.

Savannah had said—twice—that she wanted to go back to the party. She’d stepped away from her boyfriend. Twice. And all he’d had to say to that was Be nice.

Grayson stood, flowing to his feet with power and grace, but before he could say or do anything, Gigi popped up beside him. “Fancy meeting you two here!” she said loudly.

Duncan stepped abruptly back from Savannah, who righted her clothes.

“Gigi?” Duncan appeared confused—and possibly inebriated. That shall make killing him easier. “What the hell?” Duncan turned to Savannah. “Did you know she was back there?”

Savannah shot Gigi a withering look—and Grayson a worse one. “I did not.”

Duncan suddenly remembered where they were and scowled. “What are you and this guy doing in my dad’s—”

Grayson didn’t wait for the kid to finish the sentence. “Walk away.”

Duncan blinked. “Excuse me?”

Holding on to his fury by a hair, Grayson exercised steellike restraint in taking just one more step. “Walk. Away.”

Duncan turned to Savannah. “Who the hell is this guy?”

You’re about to find out, Grayson thought, but Gigi hopped in front of him and offered up her own answer to the question. “He’s… my new boyfriend!”

Grayson was horrified. By the look of Savannah’s expression, she was the same.

“Boyfriend?” Duncan repeated dumbly.

“I am not her boyfriend,” Grayson said emphatically.

Gigi elbowed him in the ribs. “He doesn’t like labels,” she declared. “And we were here for the same reason as you two. Privacy.”

“No,” Grayson gritted out. “No privacy!”

“I’m going back to the party.” Savannah looked to Duncan. “Are you coming?”

She brushed past him. Grayson didn’t expect that to work, but Duncan Trowbridge was apparently less concerned with the intruders in his father’s study than he was with his own frustration. As the two of them made it to the hall, Grayson heard the boy mutter, “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

Grayson lunged forward, and Gigi popped in front of him again. Logically, Grayson knew that picking a fight with Duncan Trowbridge wasn’t a good idea. Logically, he knew that Savannah wouldn’t thank him for it.

“Breathe,” Gigi advised him.

Grayson did. “I thought,” he said, his voice razor-sharp, “you said he was boring.” That wasn’t the word Grayson would have used to describe what they’d just seen and overheard.

“I’ve never heard him talk to her like that,” Gigi replied, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “They’re normally so… perfect.”

The word hit Grayson like a slap. How many times had he heard himself described that way? How many times had he punished himself for being anything less?