Page 121 of Scarred Crown

I’ve just finished speaking to the secretary at Limrock’s Limestone Cleaning about having a quote sent over when Alex’s office door opens ahead of me. Without meaning to, I slow my pace as a bunch of politicians file out.

Usually, they meet at the Great Hall in the center of Tucker’s Town, not the palace.

Part of me wants to confront Alex about the referendum, but I don’t have the right to use our friendship as leverage anymore to get answers. Nick and Alex got into a physical fight yesterday. From where I’m standing, the blueish hue of a bruise on Alex’s cheek is visible while he watches the group of politicians leave.

Before I can duck into another room, make myself scarce, or pretend to be on an important phone call again, Alex sees me.

I can’t talk to him. I shouldn’t. Nick wouldn’t be happy to hear I went to Alex for information. Maybe Nick does know about the referendum and assumes I know too. I’ll speak to Nick, and we’ll go from there.

I waltz past Alex on my way to my own office. The heat of his laser focus sears me, and I make the left hand turn away from him and my curiosity, and toward my own desk.

Maybe my mother will be there, and I can ask her.

When I get to my office, I don’t bother to close my door, but my mother isn’t there either. I check my phone again to see whether she’s responded, and when I verify the information in our joint secretary calendar, I see her whole day has now been coated with the light green. She’s with the king. That wasn’t there before.

I rub my face in frustration. My gut is telling me they’re keeping something big from me. I can’t ask Alex. Nick. I’ll talk it through with Nick.

With a renewed sense of determination, I spin on my heel and head for the door, focused on my phone.

I plow into a firm chest, and my phone clatters to the rug. Thankfully it didn’t hit the tiled floor, or I’d need a new one.

“You all right?” Alex’s voice is gruff.

“Fine,” I grit out. I rise and straighten my fitted dress.

He eyes me warily, and I return the look.

“Nice bruise,” I say.

His expression softens a touch. “Nick is right this time—I probably deserved it.”

“Were you fighting over me?” I can’t dance around the truth if we’re all going to co-exist.

“Is there someone else we’d fight about?” Alex leans against the bookshelf, and his hot gaze runs over me.

I hate when he examines me like that. Can I claim sexual harassment from a look? “Why would you fight at all? You and I are friends, and you’re sort of my boss. He’s my husband. Those are the facts. Nothing to fight about.”

“In the hallway just now, it seemed like you wanted to ask me something.” He crosses his arms and ignores my assertion.

I freeze and search his face. For all the talk of Alex being poor at reading people, he often reads me better than I’d like. Another reason why I don’t understand his refusal to accept Nick and I are together, staying together. How can he not see Nick is who I want?

“What’s the referendum about?” I ask. Maybe Nick knows, but I’m positive Alex does.

“Who told you?” His eyes narrow.

“Doesn’t matter. I caught wind of it. I can’t believe I haven’t caught wind of it before. Are you all trying to hide it from me?”

He runs his fingers through his hair and then shoves his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “Not you so much as Nick and Brice. Your mother thought you’d want to tell Nick if you knew. So, we’ve opted to keep it from you as well.”

“Will you tell me?” I hedge.

“You can’t discuss it with Nick until the topic is out in the public.”

I hold up a hand. Another secret between Nick and me is two too many. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“You might as well know, Jules. You can’t plead ignorance at this point. You realize there’s something big coming. What are you going to tell him? I knew, but I didn’t know?” He stares me down. “He’ll call bullshit. He’ll want to know why you didn’t tell him either way.”

“Maybe I will tell him.” I raise my chin.