That’s…interesting.”
“And he’ll know when you’re lying.”
She lifts a curious brow. “Really?”
“You can sniff out what people are feeling, and I guess he’s got a built-in lie-detector or something. You’d never know it, though. He’s that calculating. He never called me out on it a single time until he told me why he was here.”
“For you…”
I nod. “For me.”
“I know you despise him, but there must have been something about you that truly interested him.”
“I certainly didn’t encourage him.”
“Then what did you do?”
I shrug. “Nothing. I was just…me.”
I lock my stare with hers. Kell wants to know what makes him tick. Maybe I need to give her exactly what she’s asking for.
“Between us, he thinks our mother is vapid and shallow.”
Kell winces. “Well, she is. Someone doesn’t need to be wildly perceptive to pick up on that.”
“Fair enough, but I get the impression he’s not a fan, even if he can use her bad taste to his advantage with the work he does. The whole endeavor with building the collections was a joke to him.” I weigh my next words. “All I’m saying is whether you want him to like you more, or like you less, maybe keep it in mind.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “So you’re saying if I play dumb, he’ll see right through it.”
“Exactly.” I don’t have to hesitate about that one.
“And then he’ll hate me for it.”
“Or worse.” Or that one either.
She pulls in a long breath. I’m glad to watch it. For the first time, I’m detecting her serious care in considering the incubus she’s now destined to exchange vows with. I want to hope that she and Arden will come to a friendly arrangement with each other, but her healthy respect for his domineering side will only help my headstrong sister in the long run.
“Look, Kell,” I say after a long pause. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. And if he’s as upset as Mom says…”
“I can handle it.”
“All right,” I say, merely as a placation, while praying like crazy that she can. But I’m terrified she can’t. More that she’ll hate me for putting her in this position before she’s ready. Before she’s due to give up life as she knew it to serve a relentless demon and his ferocious whims.
But everything about the way she says it, down to the confident set of her shoulders, makes me believe she can.
Chapter Five
Maximus
“Beer. Now there’s a good plan.”
I swear not to make too much out of the warmth brought on by my father’s compliment as I exit the freeway just before San Buenaventura Beach. “I know a great place,” I say.
“Great. So do I.”
“Yeah, but mine’s right on the water.”
“Crazy coincidence.” He dots that with a single snap of his fingers. “So’s mine.”
And my truck is no longer heading up the access road along the Ventura sand.
It’s stopped. And parked. Right on the sand. But on what beach, I’m not sure. Nothing looks familiar. There are no lifeguard stands, surfers’ showers, or seaside snack shacks for reference either.
What there is…is a bar, just like he promised. But this place looks like no local joint I’ve ever laid eyes on before. Not that I’m the expert in the new and hip Southern California hangouts, but I surely would have heard about this one through Jesse, who is. From first glance, it’s a sleek building of contemporary lines, neutral paint blocks, and natural wood accents. Tropical flowers are well-kept in box planters, and a dozen species of palms provide shade. An open-air patio overlooks the sand.
Inside, things are a much different story. It’s like the Parthenon and Atlantis invited Las Vegas in for a three-way, and this is the oddly beautiful child that happened. Greek columns surround luxury seating areas. A gilded bar wraps around a giant tube of multicolored fire. Past the main room, a wide patio stretches along a huge saltwater fountain, where dolphins and tropical fish are swimming freely.
It’s almost humanly impossible to take it all in. For once, I take solace in the new reality that I’m not entirely human.
The early October sun, still situated where it should be in the sky that hasn’t changed, gleams on the water as we enter the main lounge. The place is relatively uncrowded. Z and I grab a couple of barstools, though we’ve definitely caught the attention of every eye in the place before the bartender strolls up.
“Your Majesty,” he says, beaming a smile from the midst of a white-gold beard.