Page 97 of Playing Her Game

“Okay.” I reach into my coat pocket and pull out my keys. “But we'll compromise.”

I toss them to him, and he catches them, his gaze dropping to the Mercedes fob in his hand.

“Those are mine,” I tell him. “The roads can be a bit too much for a car.”

He looks at me, and for a moment I wonder if I've misunderstood. Then his expression softens. The quietness of it catches me off guard.

“My car's just down the street,” I explain.

He nods, and I slip my hand into his.

I watch him take in the countryside as we leave the village. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It truly is; I always forget that when I’m away.”

“Turn right just up ahead,” I tell him.

Rez glances at me, then back at the road. “Here?”

“Just after that sign.”

A wrought-iron sign stands between two stone pillars, its lettering dark against the weathered metal.

GUT VON HOHENWALD

He turns and follows the narrow road beyond it. A moment later, the iron gates begin to open.

The car rolls slowly forward.

Beyond the gates, the road winds through thick forests and rolling fields, the winter landscape stretching farther than I can see. I watch Rez take it in from the corner of my eye, his hands steady on the wheel as the road curves between the trees.

The trees thin, revealing the old stone house in the distance, its towers rising above the surrounding woods. The morning light catches the windows.

I've driven this road more times than I can count. I've known this place for as long as I can remember.

“Is this your home?” he asks.

“No.”

I hear his sigh of relief before I see his shoulders ease, and I turn to look at him, amused. “Am I sensing you don't want to meet my parents?”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn't quite smile. “You haven't mentioned anything about the situation, and I didn't want to pressure you. But I'd assumed there would be a conversation before that ever happened.”

The care he takes with the answer makes my chest ache a little. He's been here for all of ten minutes, and he's already thinking about what I might be comfortable with, what I might not be ready to share.

“They've accepted it,” I tell him.

His eyes flick toward me. “Accepted what?”

“Lenzin and Hildy. Their relationship. The fact that he's in love with her.”

I watch him absorb that, his attention returning to the road as it curves between the trees.

“They might not be thrilled about the idea,” I continue, “but his grandmother made her position very clear. All three of her great-grandchildren, including Lucy, will have an important place in this estate's future. She wasn't going to let a disagreement between families jeopardize that.”

“Because of your family's land?”

I nod. “Our properties are connected. The land matters to both families, and Oma didn't want bad blood between us. But she also made it clear that if they continued behaving as though the world had ended because Lenzin had fallen in love, there would be bad blood. She wasn't going to tolerate it.”