Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Severin must see me because he turns to face me. He’s wearing his usual sour expression.
“Cassian. You’re here. What a pleasure,” Severin says, his tone saying the opposite.
We’re joined almost immediately by Sybil and Jet, and I force a deep breath in even as I slide my hand into my pocket and wrap my fist around the bullet. I need to focus. One thing at a time.
“Isn’t this a nice surprise, mother?” Severin says.
Jet comes to stand beside me. “Cassian, Allegra, good to see you both,” he says casually. Too fucking casually for my liking.
I glare at Severin who isn’t quite glaring back, but his eyes are locked with mine and one corner of his mouth is curved upward in a tiny, self-satisfied smirk.
“He’s a child,” I say. “Two years old.”
Sybil’s gaze moves from Severin to me and back. One glance at her tells me she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Which is good. Sybil is hungry for money. She wouldn’t send a loaded gun to an adult much less a child. She wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Cassian,” Severin says in that tone that makes me want to beat his face in until I break his nose. Until I turn bone to dust.
“Severin, mother, you haven’t met Allegra,” Jet says, and I feel his shoulder against mine.
“No, we haven’t,” Sybil says. Severin still doesn’t take his eyes off me.
I take a step toward Severin, but Jet slaps a hand over my arm. “Charity, remember?”
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
Jet removes his hand. “We’re trying to raise money for Children’s Hospital. Do this later.”
My jaw is clenched so tight I’m grinding my molars.
“Tell me what message you wanted to send. Tell me because call me stupid, but I don’t get it,” I tell Severin, ignoring Jet.
“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Severin says. “Mother, shall we take our seats. The auction is about to begin.”
I step right up to Severin very aware of the men who have moved toward us. Security, theirs. Soldiers, mine. I’m also aware of how quiet the room is growing.
But I could give a fuck.
“If he’d been hurt or worse, I’d kill your entire family before your eyes and then I’d kill you. Do you understand me, Blackstone?”
He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t break a sweat. Not Severin Blackstone. “This is a charity event, Cassian. Not sure your kind belong here.”
“My kind? Don’t forget, it’s you who washes the blood off my money,” I say in a low voice. “I’m not worried about shedding some of yours. In fact, I’d be happy to.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asks, face inches from mine.
“Oh, more than that. I’m fucking promising you. Do not go near my family again. Do not dare. Am I fucking clear?”
But before he can answer, the elevator doors slide open, and all eyes turn to the man inside. The man who is humming a little too loudly. He’s dressed in his tuxedo, well, dressed as best he can without help these days. What was once a neat five o’clock shadow is a gray, unkempt beard, the scruff of hair remaining on his head standing up in the back where he slept on it. The jacket is too big on him. It used to fit. Used to be too tight even. My father always took care of himself. Healthy as a horse until this. He was dashing once upon a time. Once many years ago. When he steps off the elevator, he does so in socked feet because he forgot to put on shoes.
The crack in my heart deepens.
“Dad.” I don’t recognize my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“There you all are,” my father says, oblivious to the room full of people that have gone so quiet you could hear a fucking pin drop.
I walk to meet him, Sybil on my heels. Sybil taking his arm, signaling for the band to start playing, for some distraction as even her smile falters. It’s not for concern for my father though. It’s concern for her image. She’s embarrassed.
“Samuel. We talked about this,” she says, a smile on her face even as her voice comes out a hiss. She takes his arm, and a soldier comes to stand on the other side of him.
“Well, don’t you look wonderful, my dear. A true beauty, isn’t she, Seth?”
Seth.
Fuck. He thinks I’m Seth.
He pats Sybil’s hand.
I walk closer.
“You didn’t have to come tonight, dad. You hate these things, remember?” But he doesn’t remember. That’s the problem. “I’ll handle it, if you want to go back to bed.”
“Nonsense,” he says with a warm smile. “Now, I could use a scotch,” he tells a nearby waiter who doesn’t know what to do. At least the band begins to play, not that it does anything to disperse the crowd. Not when there’s a show like this to watch.