House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,79

about things. Such conversations rarely ended happily for me.

“Have we talked enough for you to get some of the facts? Possibly. But the entire truth? Possibly not.” He glanced at the array of photographs on his desk, and picked up a small silver frame. I knew what picture he held in his hand: a photograph of the child who would have been my older sister, the first Caroline Evelyn Merit.

“She was only four years old, Merit. It was a miracle your mother and brother walked away from the wreck, but that miracle wasn’t large enough to save her.”

His voice was wistful. “She was such a bright child. So happy. So full of life. And when she died, I think a bit of us did, too.”

I sympathized. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a child, to bear witness to her passing, especially at such a young age.

But Robert and Charlotte had also lived through it, and they’d needed my parents, too.

“You were born, and we were so happy. We tried to give you the life we couldn’t give her.”

My father had an indefatigable belief that he could control and shape the world around him. He had grown up, he believed, without enough, because my grandfather brought home only a cop’s salary. Solution? Create one of the largest businesses in Chicago.

I was the solution to Caroline’s death. I was to be her replacement, down to the name, which is why even today I went by Merit instead of Caroline. But that burden was unfair, and it was much too heavy for a child.

“I can’t replace her. I never could. And you decided to make me immortal . . . but you didn’t ask me what I wanted.”

He put the picture back on the desk and looked up at me, and his gaze was chillier now. “You are stubborn, just like your grandfather.”

I didn’t challenge that, as I didn’t consider it an insult.

My father adjusted the items on his desk so they lined up just so. “I may be able obtain the information you’re asking for,” he said.

Relief flooded me. “Thank you,” I solemnly said, hoping that he understood I meant it. I grabbed a pen and notepad from his desk and wrote down the warehouse’s address, then put both back on his desk.

My father looked at the notepad silently for a moment, head canted as if he were debating something. “But keep in mind, I’m nearing retirement, Merit, and your brother will be taking over soon. I don’t plan to set him up for immediate failure by arranging the city’s chess pieces against him. So I’d like you to do something for me, as well.”

I almost found it a relief that he’d asked. The request was a reminder—but a familiar one—that nothing was free when it came to my father. We were back on common ground, working in expected patterns.

“What?” I asked.

“You previously agreed to meet with Robert. I’d like you to follow through on that promise.”

That was also a common refrain. My father believed being connected to a House would boost Robert’s chances of making a further success of the company.

“Okay.”

My father’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s it? No argument?”

“He’s my brother,” I said simply. “And you’re right—I agreed to do it. But if this is for political benefit, meeting with vampires won’t exactly endear him to humans. We aren’t very popular right now.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But you are popular with your kind.”

“What is ‘my kind,’ exactly?”

He gestured dismissively. “Supernaturals and the like.”

I bit my tongue at the obvious stereotyping. He was, after all, doing us a favor. “Is there a market for you among the supernatural populations?”

“I’m not certain. But as there appears to be a substantial population of supernaturals in the city, we believe it’s worth cultivating them.”

I didn’t tell him all the vampires living in Cadogan House might be seeking new living arrangements pretty soon. And speaking of which, I needed to get back to it.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” I said. “Please tell Robert to call me.”

I walked out of his office, and I didn’t look back to see whether he’d smiled in victory. But I’d have put good money on it.

* * *

I considered my visit to the Merit campus a success, but it wasn’t going to be an immediate one. Even if my father made good on his promise to check the property, it was a long shot the information would be worth much. Plus, it was getting late, and the