Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Get cleaned up. I want you in my office in twenty minutes,” he tells her, then walks out.
“What about my room?” she calls after him.
“We have about two dozen others. Pick one.” He doesn’t bother to turn around, and I wonder what is going on in his head. What I don’t know. Because there’s something.
Mercedes turns to give me a nasty look. I want to tell her I just defended her, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Don’t look so smug,” she tells me.
She doesn’t even give me time for a comeback before she spins on her heel and disappears in the direction of her bedroom.
22
Santiago
"Santi?" Mercedes lingers in the doorway, watching me carefully with her hands clasped together in front of her.
She is the picture of contrition, confirmation enough that she was involved in this somehow. The problem is, I'm not certain I want to know the extent.
"Come sit down," I tell her.
She enters the office on wooden legs, forcing herself into the chair opposite my desk. Although she has done as I instructed and cleaned herself up, there is still something chaotic about her appearance. Her normally polished, smooth black hair is wild, falling around her face almost as a shield when she dips her head. The shadows beneath her eyes are evidence she did not sleep much last night either, and I can only speculate on the reasons.
"I'm offering you one chance." My sharp tone slices through the heavy silence between us. "To clear your conscience and come clean. It will be the only chance you have, Mercedes. If you don’t take this opportunity now, I will never forgive you for whatever it is you’ve done."
She peers up at me, eyes glassy, her lip trembling as she tries to hold it together. "Don't freeze me out, Santi. I can't bear it. Please."
"Tell me." I glower. "Tell me what your involvement in this scheme is. The poison. The lipstick. Why did you do it?"
Horror washes over her features as she shakes her head fiercely. "I didn't poison you, brother. I would never do that!"
When I don't respond, she flings herself forward, reaching for my palms flattened against the desk. She grabs them desperately, clinging to me as the tears she's been trying to hold back splash against her cheeks.
"Please believe me. I would never hurt you that way. You must know that. I'm your family. We are all each other has left right now."
I pull my hands from her clutches and stare at her, empty. "How did Abel know you gave Ivy that lipstick?"
She pales, her brows pinching together as she considers how to answer. "Abel?"
"How did he know?" I lean forward, biting the words so forcefully Mercedes flinches back.
"I... I don't know. That doesn't make any sense. I haven't spoken to him, and Ivy hasn't spoken with him since before. There's no way he could have—"
She pauses abruptly, an odd expression taking over her face.
"What?" I ask.
"I can't." She stumbles to her feet, swaying slightly. "I don't have the answers you need right now, Santi. But I will. I can promise you that I will. All I'm asking is for you to give me some time. Trust me, please. Know that I would never hurt you."
"Mercedes." I stagger to my feet, but she only offers me one last glance over her shoulder before she runs from the office, her heels clapping down the corridor as she goes.
"Fuck."
I stare at the empty doorway, considering my options. Considering that there is very possibly a traitor in my own home, and she's my own blood. I could go after her now. There are ways of getting the answers I want from her. I know them intimately and can still recall the sting of my father’s methods for situations such as these. But I don’t have the stomach to torture her myself, and I can’t bring this to anyone else within The Society without raising alarm and confirming her guilt. There is one alternative. Someone I trust, who could execute a harsh but fair punishment and draw the answers from her efficiently. Judge would do that for me. But before I go that far, I have to consider my sister’s desperation to prove whatever it is that occurred to her when she was speaking with me. And the fastest way to do that is also the easiest.
"Marco." I press the intercom button, summoning him, and he appears within a few moments.
"Yes, boss?"
"I want you to follow Mercedes when she leaves this house. Wherever she goes, I want updates on her location. Don't let her know you're there. Stay hidden, but don't lose her."
"Of course, sir."
He takes his leave, and I call some of my other men, instructing them to scour the city for Chambers. Once that is arranged, I stir my computer back to life and resume the video from the night of the gala, playing it from the beginning, trying to catch any other glimpse of the woman who attended that night. The woman who kissed me.