Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Yeah, that’s what I got.”
He takes a deep breath in, exhales audibly. “I want the deed to the Atlantic City property back, Cassian. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“And you want me to just hand it over?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Why would I do that? Because you handed me a half-dead man?”
“Because maybe I had a camera installed at the house where that cash was delivered.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I keep a close eye on anyone who’s charged with protecting my family. Always have. Always will.”
“I’m guessing without their knowledge.”
“Page out of your book?”
“Nah. Too subtle for me. You’ve seen the footage?”
He nods. “I think you’ll find it interesting. I did.”
“How so?”
“The deed, Cassian.”
I study him. Is he bluffing? I don’t think so. Severin Blackstone wouldn’t waste his time trying to fuck me over. He knows I’d pay him back double.
“If it’s as interesting as you say, it’s yours. But the other part of our arrangement doesn’t change.” I still need him to clean my money.
“Fine. My lawyer will send over paperwork tomorrow morning.” He leaves his untouched drink on the table and stands, reaching into his pocket. He takes out a flash drive and sets it down between us. “Do not fuck with me,” he says before pushing it toward me and walking away.
21
ALLEGRA
Cassian doesn’t return that night and I only manage to fall asleep when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. When I wake up, the sun is coming through the windows, and I see the time is eight in the morning.
We’re to bury Michael today at ten. I get up, walk into the bathroom to at least wash my face and brush my teeth. I’m still in my clothes from the night before, but I don’t care. A glance at my reflection shows that I spent most of the night pacing.
I carry my iPad to the kitchen. I’ve read everything I could find on Huntington’s disease. It sounds terrible, but it doesn’t change what he did and I’m still fuming. I look down at my hand, at the ring there. I should have thrown it at him.
No.
That’s not what I want.
Shit. It would be so much easier if I wanted that.
I take a deep breath in and exhale. What he told me about his brother is terrible and I understand his fear. I even understand why he did what he did. But it doesn’t make it right and I can’t set a precedent of letting important things slide. Thing is, I would have agreed to the shot. I don’t want to get pregnant anymore than he wants me pregnant. But the way he went about it was wrong and he knows it.
In the kitchen I make myself a cup of tea. Enzo comes around the corner.
“Is Cassian here?” I ask him.
“No, he’s not back yet.”
“I have to get to my brother’s funeral. I can’t miss that.”
“I’m sure you won’t. Cassian has made all the arrangements.” I haven’t discussed the particulars with him and now I’m wishing I had.
“What did he arrange exactly?” I ask Enzo.
His phone pings with a text. “That I can’t tell you because I don’t know. Excuse me.”
With that he disappears. That’s all. Nothing more. It’s just my brother’s funeral so I guess it’s not a huge priority to him.
I glance at the closed door of Jet’s room, walk over and set my ear to it. I think I hear the shower going, but knock just in case. When there’s no answer, I open the door and peer inside
The bathroom door is closed, but steam seeps into the bedroom from beneath it. How hot does he shower? I look around, remembering the last time, the one and only time, I was in here. When he saved me from going half mad in that crypt. When Cassian didn’t realize what he was triggering in me. I decide I’ll wait for him to come out of the shower. If Cassian has forgotten about the funeral, Jet’s my best bet of getting there. Enzo’s loyal to Cassian. Jet has no issue pissing him off. I think he might even like it.
I chuckle at the idea, then I spot something familiar on Jet’s nightstand. I peer closer. Is that my notebook?
“That jerk.” I cross the room to pick it up. It’s the one he’d handed me the other day when Cassian caught us together and thought, well, God knows what he thought. It’s lying face down open to the page of the drawing of Azazel. I take it and consider looking through the nightstand drawer because what’s a little invasion of privacy between frenemies? Because Jet and I aren’t quite friends. We’re not quite enemies. I have no idea what we are.
I recall how he gave me away the other night when he knew I hadn’t seen Cassian returning to the table and still let me ask about Seth. Still set it up so I’d come out looking like I was poking around for information, which I guess I was, but well, fuck them both.