harder. But also, more defensive or secretive as though he’s protecting something. Like he’s protecting himself.
I walk off the elevator and through the open front door of the apartment. It’s familiar and foreign at once and I feel like a stranger. Like I don’t belong here. Or maybe it’s that I’m not quite welcome here. Was I ever truly welcome?
I turn to my uncle who looks so uncomfortable it’s almost painful to watch him.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lucas asks me, crossing the room to the bar as though he owns the place.
“I’m fine. What’s going on? Uncle Adam, why are you with him?”
Lucas pours himself and my uncle a whiskey. “Sit,” he tells me.
It feels strange to be invited to sit in what was once my home, but when my uncle doesn’t intervene, I take a seat, resting my hands on the purse in my lap.
My uncle remains anxiously standing against the far wall, not answering my question. Not even looking at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking or where his head is. All I know is he looks about twenty years older than last time I saw him.
Once Lucas sets the bottle back on the bar, he turns to face me, expression curious.
“Isn’t it early for that?” I gesture to their drinks.
Lucas shrugs a shoulder and sips. “Life is short. Carpe diem and all that shit.”
“Why are we here? Why is my uncle here?”
“It’s his house.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I called you because you promised to tell me the truth. Are you two working together against Damian or something?”
“We’re doing what’s best for you,” my uncle says.
“All of you seem to think you’re doing everything for my benefit, but I get the feeling none of you actually are.”
Lucas glances at my uncle, then sits on the chair closest to mine, facing me. “Ask me your questions.”
“You’ll answer me truthfully?”
“I will answer the ones I’m able to truthfully.”
“Why is my uncle here?”
“Because he’s concerned for your safety,” he says flippantly.
“Dick,” my uncle mutters, then turns to me. “Damian did something that puts the foundation at risk. That puts you at risk.”
I don’t miss that he mentions the foundation before he mentions me.
“What did he do?”
“We’ll get to that,” Lucas answers after my uncle shifts his gaze to him almost in deference.
My uncle turns to refill his glass. I watch his back, then shift my gaze back to Lucas. Okay. We’ll get to it. I won’t leave until I know.
“What happened to Annabel? The accident, I mean,” I ask.
Lucas surveys me over his drink as though he’s surprised that’s what I ask. “She and Damian were playing in the solarium. She fell from the gangway and sadly lost the use of her legs after that fall.”
I knew that from what Liam told me. It must have been awful for her. “I heard you say something yesterday. In Damian’s study.”
“I said many things. Which in particular are you curious about?”
“Something about accidents. A lot of them happening around Damian.”
“I don’t think he pushed her, if that’s what you’re getting at. He loved Annabel. But I know he felt guilty afterward. And I know our father blamed him for allowing it to happen. Blamed him for a lot of things.” He sips his drink, looking over my shoulder. “That wasn’t quite fair,” he adds on, surprising me.
“Then why did you say that yesterday? About a lot of accidents happening around him?”
“Did you have your ear to the door?”
“You were loud.”
“I was fucking with him. That’s all, Cristina. And you should be asking different questions. Questions like what’s going to happen to you after your year is up.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“Christ,” my uncle mutters. His face is a little flushed, the bulbous tip of his nose red like the last time. I wonder how much he’s already drunk today.
Lucas stands to grab the bottle of whiskey and another tumbler. He pours a glass and hands it to me before resuming his seat.
“Don’t worry, my brother won’t go through with it.”
I sip, shifting my gaze back to his once I’ve swallowed a good mouthful of the burning stuff. Courage. I need to be strong.
“With killing me?” I say, my voice higher than usual.
“Yes.”
“That’s what you intended? All these years?” It’s surreal.
“Not me. My family. Well, my father to be more precise.”
“Why? What would it do? I was a little girl when that accident happened. What would it do?”
He shrugs a shoulder so casually it pisses me off.