*Jack*
I stand at the window in my library, gazing out on my well-manicured garden. I’ve planned to study my ledger further, but I can’t concentrate.
I was unprepared for the way the sound of my name rolling off her tongue made me feel. I want to ask her to say it again. I want to move closer to her and talk in hushed tones so the servants can’t hear. I want to know why she truly objects to a dog. I want to ask what she knows of broken hearts.
Mesmerized by the play of sunlight dancing over the red in her brown hair, I remember the way it felt unfurling in my hand. I welcome her disdain because it keeps my own desires leashed.
I press my shoulder against the sharp corner of the window casement, ignoring the cutting bite. She bristles at my mocking use of Luna, but her tone is no dif
