Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Ursa steps out of the tub and dries off with one of her oversized fluffy towels. She doesn’t look at me as she takes her time rubbing lotion into her skin. It’s not until she’s shrugged back into her robe that she gives me her attention, as if she needs that little bit of barrier between us. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to me.
I’m right here. “Ursa, talk to me. Let me in.” I don’t really mean to blurt out the words, but I have the sudden fear that if she walks out of this conversation right now, it will harm something fragile in our fledgling relationship. “Please.”
She shakes her head slowly. “That girl isn’t for us.” She turns and walks to the door, pausing to look over her shoulder. I’ve never seen her look so closed down. “But if you want her that badly, you’re more than free to go when she goes.”
Chapter 22
Ursa
Maybe I am the coward Alaric names me. It’s hard to argue with it when I dress quickly and slip out of my penthouse. I haven’t snuck out of anywhere since I was a teenager, and it didn’t go well the single time I tried.
I stop short at the elevator and have to force myself to push the button. I haven’t thought about when I was a young for a long time. There’s no point. I was a happy child of a happy couple, and my parents supported and loved me—even if they didn’t understand my need for more. They were content in the little house that always made me feel like the walls were closing in. They enjoyed their normal jobs that didn’t require anything more of them than showing up for work Monday to Friday. They enjoyed their perfectly normal marriage.
At least they did until their unexpected deaths when I was still working for Poseidon. They never lived to see my exile, certainly never to see what I’ve become.
I try not to contemplate what they’d think of me now. Would they still love their precious daughter knowing I’ve taken a life? Many lives?
Impossible to say. Better not to ask.
I hate that I’m thinking about this now. I don’t falter. I haven’t since I set myself on this path, one that puts me at the top. It means getting my hands dirty from time to time, but I have to take those measures less now because I set a precedent early on. As much as I pretend it’s a happy side effect, it matters to me that the people in my territory are better off than they were under the last leader.
The elevator takes me down to the garage, and I waste no time sending Malone a text.
Me: Are you home?
Malone: Yes, why?
Me: I’ll be there in twenty.
I step out of the elevator and find Monica waiting for me. From the faint sheen of sweat on her dark brown skin, she ran here from the main security hub. She gives me a long look. “I know you weren’t about to leave without a driver or security or even talking to me.”
I’d been about to do exactly that. “I won’t need a driver for this.” And Monica is one of the few people close enough to me to call me on my shit, something I’m not too eager to experience. Not when I’m still so raw from the conversation with Alaric.
“Yeah, no. That Domme lady tone doesn’t work with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Get in the car. If I’m not satisfied you’re in your right mind by the end of the drive, we’re turning around and coming straight back here.”
Frustration bubbles up in my chest. “You do realize that you work for me, correct?”
Monica arches a brow. “You pay me, sure, but right now you look like you need a friend more than you need your head of security. Get in the car.”
There’s no point of arguing with her. She’s right, after all.
I’m running and knowing that still isn’t enough for my pride to kick in and send me back up to my penthouse. Let Alaric and Zurielle comfort each other if that’s what they need. Alaric can handle Zurielle’s needs while I’m gone.
He shouldn’t have to. I should be there to take care of things.
Instead I’m climbing into the back of my town car, about to have yet another uncomfortable conversation I would rather avoid. Monica doesn’t make me wait long. We’re barely out of the parking garage before she meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You’re going to Malone’s.”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. “She’s going to tell you the same thing I’m about to: you’re being ridiculous.”
I bite back a sigh. Monica’s never parsed her words with me, which is something I value in a head of security. The person in the position needs to be self-assured enough to speak up to ensure my safety and the safety of the people within my care. In the years that Monica’s held the position, we’ve become friends. Most of the time I enjoy her upfront attitude.