Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure I have a choice. Not because of you!” she says quickly. Her hands wrap around her plastic cup, squeezing until it crinkles while she looks anywhere but at me. “So, did I tell you why my grandfather and I need the Arrendell cash?”
“No,” I answer—then stop as my swiping moves past the photos of the Arrendell mansion and lands on a shot of an older man with Talia’s blue eyes. He’s bowed over a thick cedar log, shaving away, intensely focused and lost in something that looks like love. I linger on it, wondering if she looks the same way when she’s working. I pass her phone back to her. “You were fairly evasive when the subject came up before.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
She goes silent, glancing back over her shoulder to see if anyone’s eavesdropping. She ignores the phone sitting between us.
“He’s losing himself,” she says, her voice low with hurt. “Who he really is, I mean. He’s got rheumatoid arthritis and it’s destroying his hands. Of course, our crappy insurance won’t cover surgery. But it’s not just that, he…” Her lips curl up in a pained wince, trembling. “He’s suffering from early-onset dementia. There’s an experimental treatment, but it’s expensive, and we don’t have the funds. So I’ve decided I’ll deal with Xavier Arrendell being a creep if it means I can use that money to help my grandfather.”
Fuck me.
I’m a louse.
This means so much to her.
And I’m going to destroy everything this girl loves to have my revenge.
“Miss Grey,” I say slowly. “You know that if I arrest Xavier—”
“I know,” she says quickly, her voice thick. There’s a wet gleam in her eyes and a strange smile on her lips and she won’t quite look at me. “But that won’t happen for a while, right? Going after his money?”
“Right,” I say flatly.
“And he’ll pay something up front.” Her fingers knot together against the table, going still. She stares at her hands. “It’ll be enough. It has to be enough.”
“Talia.” Shit. Fuck. I can’t do this. “Listen, I’ll find another way. I won’t—”
“No.” A sharp look whips toward me, almost a glare, and I understand it more than I wish I really did.
She doesn’t want my pity.
She doesn’t want me to go easy on her or on Xavier.
“We started this, so we’ll finish it,” she whispers. “I trust you to make sure everything turns out okay.”
“You shouldn’t,” I snarl, and her smile strengthens, melancholy yet so sweet.
“I think I’m going to anyway.”
“Why?”
I don’t like the way those blue eyes watch me, beaming back an innocence I shouldn’t risk for anything.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, “I think you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
Everything in me wants to shut down.
Shove her away.
Close off so she won’t depend on me, won’t expect shit from me. I couldn’t protect my brother and I couldn’t protect myself.
How the hell can I ever protect her?
I tear my gaze away, staring across the café instead.
“That makes one of us,” I mutter tightly.
“Fine,” she answers with absolute conviction, picking up her phone, and when she swipes the screen and smiles down at it softly, I know exactly what picture she’s looking at. “I’ll just have to believe in you hard enough for both of us, Micah.”
Fine is fucking right.
Let her believe whatever she wants.
Nothing Talia Grey does will make me a better man than the twisted creature I truly am.
9
DARKEST HOUR (TALIA)
Nothing else in the world calms me more than the scent of the workshop and the sound of Grandpa hard at work.
I’m at my drafting table, with a perfect view of the shop front so I can head out if a customer comes in. But I’m not really thinking about sales right now.
Papers scatter across the angled wooden tabletop and my pencils are strewn everywhere. I’ve filled pages with sketches until my hand hurts, using my photos of the Arrendell manor as a reference, trying to tame that strange beast into something livable.
Behind me, Grandpa works over his lathe, humming softly to himself as he fills the workshop with the scent of hot sawdust, slowly bringing another masterpiece to life.
I feel like half my drawings are a tribute to him, to what I know he’s capable of. I’ve always designed with Grandpa’s style in mind, but also with a touch of my own.
No matter how I might feel about the Arrendells, there’s something exciting about taking on the challenge of transforming a luxe dungeon into something warm and alive. The interior is mostly black and white with wood accents and tacky splashes of red. It makes me think of a chessboard strewn with the blood of kings and queens and pawns.
Then there’s the garden out back.
Even if it was mazelike, there’s natural beauty there.
Trees and flowers growing wild, a touch of lightness, like those grounds could somehow purify the darkness of the family’s history. The idea stuck with me while I sketched and bled into concepts focused on light wood tones with a soft gloss meant to capture the natural light that could permeate the place if we replaced those heavy velvet drapes with modern fabrics and hand-carved wooden shutters.