Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Irritation washes over her features.
“Trust me, he was in good spirits and he did say he tends to go off grid sometimes. And our original contract is still intact. Trust me when I say, he’s fine. Give it another week and if we still can’t locate him, I’ll have them further the search. The problem is he notified us when he started that if he discovered something he’d go off grid. I have it in writing to protect everyone involved. There is no law against people making their own choices, Cleo.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I know, I just. I’m worried.”
“It’s okay to be worried.”
She sighs and reaches for her waiting wine glass. “Apep said he’d take care of it. He’s clearly just as concerned as I am.”
I snort out a laugh. “Apep never does anything for free.”
“Maybe he’s just being kind to the lost college student who’s petrified her brother is dead!”
He’s not. But I don’t tell her that. I’ve said it a million times and still she won’t listen. “I know you think you’re wise to the ways of the world because you grew up in New York—but people like Apep aren’t good people.”
“And you?” She leans back and crosses her arms. “Are you good?”
“No,” I snap. “And that’s the difference between me and Apep. He claims to be good while living in darkness. I own the darkness, I shed light onto it, I’m not good, Cleo, I never have been. My life’s purpose isn’t goodness, it’s setting the world on fire.” I pause almost adding that hers would be the same, if…
If.
One of the most horrible words in the human language.
I wonder if she even realizes what she’s capable of. Probably not, because people are so used to writing things off, justifying coincidences, when in my world that word simply translates to power.
“Hold out your hand,” I instruct.
“What?”
“Hold it out.” I walk purposefully over to her. The minute her hand is out, I slap it.
She jerks it away. “Are you serious right now? You can’t just hit people!”
“It was a light slap. Now, if you were doing something wrong, or about to get killed by a poor decision and I slap your palm to remind you of the pain of that mistake, am I the bad guy? Or is my discipline keeping you alive?”
She opens her mouth then closes it.
“Furthermore,” I add, “if I don’t slap your hand, but allow you to make your own choices, I don’t discipline you, I simply allow you to run around and do whatever you want. Is that love? No, because love is born out of discipline and learning from your mistakes. You might see the first as being evil. I see the second as being the most evil of all, because the person does nothing. Oh, they might smile at you, they might encourage you, but when you fall, they won’t reach for you. They’ll watch you crumble and take over everything you’ve left behind.”
“That’s…dark,” she mumbles.
“Like I said, I’m not good.” I shrug. “I just figured it would make more sense if you heard it that way and experienced it.”
The smell of steak fills the room as my staff starts to bring out the food. I find my seat on the opposite end of the table and reach for my wine. “Just in case you weren’t following, I’m a man who teaches you to be better even if it hurts, Apep’s a man who stands by your side until it no longer benefits his end goal. That is the difference between us.”
She swallows and looks down at her plate. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to make that decision on my own, not because you say it’s true.”
I grit my teeth. “Suit yourself.”
She shoves her plate forward. “I’m not that hungry.”
Her eyes are unfocused when she looks at me, she’s looking but not seeing. For the first time since she arrived—she can’t see the sun burning behind my eyes.
I can tell because she no longer greedily searches.
And then I realize, it’s because she doesn’t want to, she’s detaching from me. I hate that I’m disappointed how easily she gave up her fight, how easily she gave in to Apep. It was stupid to look at her future choices, stupid to imagine that she would be different among the many.
She’s pathetically normal.
I swipe my wine glass crashing it against the fireplace.
She jumps a foot. “I’m sorry, I’m really just not hungry.” Cleo gets up so quickly, her chair tumbles over backwards.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp standing and leaning on the table. “It’s not you, it’s me. It wasn’t the easiest day and…” I hate lying, it goes against who I am, but I have no choice. “I just worry for you being around him, that’s all, but that’s no excuse to throw wine glasses around, apologies.” Shit now I sound like a jealous nutjob. All she knows is I’m her brother’s boss and she just met me and here I am acting like a jealous boyfriend. What the hell has this trial turned me into?