Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I couldn’t speak. My throat was closed up. I nodded my head once.
“King,” Blaise said before we turned to leave.
“Yes, boss?”
“Tell Stellan that unless he’s ready to hand the reins to his oldest son, then he will do his job instead of handing it off to Thatcher. Sebastian is under Stellan’s authority. It should have been him who accompanied Sebastian today.”
King nodded. “Yes, sir.”
An amused hum came from my brother’s direction. “I do believe my father intends to outlive me to ensure that I never hold that power.”
“Your father knows he doesn’t get to make that decision. When I’m ready, I’ll make the call.”
Thatcher put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table beside him. “You really think that’s wise? Come now, Blaise. We’ve known each other all our lives. I’m”—he paused, then smirked—“the psycho.”
The corner of Blaise’s lips quirked. “You’re an effective weapon with the ability to hide a vulnerability. And I’m not talking about Capri who you can keep safe. The one I am referring to is one you can’t keep out of harm’s way. In fact, you surprised me today.” Blaise sat back in his chair. “We share that flaw except mine isn’t a secret. I can’t hide mine the way you do.”
There was silence for a moment as we all stood there.
“Am I the only one who is lost as fuck?” Gage asked, breaking the silence.
“Then, you should know why it was me who came instead of my father,” Thatcher replied.
“Because he would have stood back, no matter what my decision was,” Blaise offered.
“Exactly,” was Thatcher’s response.
“If it wasn’t a blatant disregard for my position, I might respect you for it,” Blaise said.
Thatcher glanced back at Trev Hughes, then looked at Blaise. “You’re right. You can’t mask it well at all, boss.”
Blaise threw his head back and laughed out loud then waved his hand toward the door. “You can go.”
I followed King out of the office as my mind began to spin through every excuse there could be as to why Royal had left with Merce. I needed to hear her voice. Know she was okay.
It wasn’t until we were all inside the Escalade that any of us spoke.
King started the ignition, then glanced through the rearview mirror at Thatcher, who had climbed in the back with me. “I do not want to be the one to tell Stellan that shit.”
“What? That Blaise wants me to take his place sooner than my father planned or that Blaise is pissed that it was me who came and not him? Both I’d like to be present for.”
King shook his head and chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say it, but I didn’t know what the hell Blaise was talking about in there with your vulnerability.”
Thatcher rolled down the window and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. “That’s because you don’t have a brother,” he replied, not glancing my way as he lit up and took a long pull.
I hadn’t been confused. I’d known what Blaise was talking about before he made his own comparison with Trev. The fact Thatcher came today ready to protect me hadn’t shocked me. He might be a lunatic but he was also my brother.
“It’s better you know now,” Wilder said, and I shifted my gaze to him. He turned in his seat to look at me. “Before your feelings for her deepened.”
I swallowed against the bile in my throat. “She has a reason. I just have to talk to her.”
Wilder glanced at King, and I knew they were going to tell me it was a bad idea. That I’d gotten lucky today and I didn’t need to test Blaise. They just didn’t understand that it was too late. She already owned me.
• Thirty-Four •
My soul was backing out. Deciding it’d had all it could take.
Royal
I stood in the middle of the living room of the guesthouse that Merce had brought me and Grams to. Sebastian’s name lit up the screen as the phone rang, and I wanted to throw it against the wall, scream at the top of my lungs, and answer it, all at the same time.
I’d do the latter if everything that Merce had told me weren’t perfect puzzle pieces to the things I hadn’t understood. The pictures my father had sent me of his battered face and the casts on both his arms also made it impossible for me to cling to the hope that he and Merce had lied to me.
“I have to paint today,” Grams said as she walked through the living room, looking around for something.
She’d been so happy to see me, and then she began showing me around as if Haven House were her new house and everyone there were guests. When I had told her it was time to go, she balked at me and said that was impossible. She had a party to host. Thankfully, she forgot about her party and asked me if I knew where little Vin had run off to. I had gotten her to leave by telling her we needed to go pick him up from school.