how long he’s been sitting here. What’s going on with her?
His shirt is unbuttoned some, his tie undone, as though he’s had to get comfortable. Still, the awkward silence hangs on the air between us.
“Your mother told me you play piano. Or played. She didn’t specify if you still do, or not.” I’m not the biggest conversationalist. Lord knows, if there was a book in my hands right now, his breathing would get on my nerves, but this one-way conversation is ridiculous with him. It’d probably be easier if I were staring at his scarred half. At least I’d feel a small amount of pity for him, but from this angle, he just looks like an arrogant, moody prick with a perfect jawline.
At this rate, I’d rather stay awake all night counting cracks on my ceilings.
As I push to my feet, he clears his throat.
“What are you really doing here?”
The familiar pangs of guilt settle in, and for a moment, I feel like fifteen-year-old me preparing to confess to Ms. Phillips that I lost her daughter for a minute. Only, he’s not Ms. Phillips. He’s the Mad Son. Devil of Bonesalt. And my palms are sweating. “While I was … down in the library, she apparently went out on the balcony. I had no idea she would … or that she might try to--”
“That’s not what I mean. Why are you here? At the manor?”
“You. I mean, Rand hired me.”
“No shit.”
“I’m here to work.”
His face kicks to the side, his brows lowering. “Yeah? Sure you’re not here to gather up dirt about the fucked-up Blackthornes, to take back to your little friends in town? I don’t think there’s enough crosses out on the road. Maybe you can talk them into adding a few more.”
Once again, my face heats with embarrassment. “I’m not here to spread gossip. I’m here to do my job.”
“You’ve already done that well, it seems.”
Another shrill scream echoes from the other room, and I drop my gaze as the slap of his words settles beneath my skin. A flare of anger shoots up from my gut. “You only know that because I told you I screwed up. Not because you actually give a shit.”
Slapping a hand over my mouth is futile after what’s already been said, what now exists in the universe. I don’t even know the relationship between him and his mother. I only know that, in the two days I’ve been here, he hasn’t shown much interest in her.
The glare he shoots back at me crackles through my bones, and I slide my hands over my face to keep from having to look at him when he fires me right here on the spot. Muscles trembling, I brace myself for the onslaught of insults and the anger I see churning in his eyes.
Seconds tick in an agonizing countdown to my walk of shame, when I’m forced to go back to my room and text Aunt Midge to come pick me up because my damn mouth spouted off again.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say, worthless as it is.
“You’re not like the last girl.”
Daring a peek through my fingers, I find him staring ahead toward the wall of dolls across from us, swirling the ice in his glass.
“They all cower. But you … you just don’t know when to keep your lips zipped.”
“It’s practically a medical condition. I honestly can’t stop myself sometimes.”
“Honest being the operative word.” Still swirling the cubes, he sighs. “I’ve been surrounded by liars my whole life. It’s strange to hear honesty. However brutal.”
The screams from before have died down to whimpers and quiet sobbing.“I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t even know your relationship with your mother.”
He thumbs at his nose and sniffs. “When I was younger, she’d have these horrible nightmares. Screaming and kicking, and just … unsettling to watch her. I couldn’t go to her, of course, because the staff were worried she’d end up kicking me in the face, or something. So I’d watch from the door until she calmed. Hours, sometimes. Listening to her cry. It was the most honest thing I’ve ever heard from her.”
His comment sits heavy in my chest, as I recall the nights my own mother would come down from one of her highs, lie on the floor, sobbing, while she apologized to me about how much she fucked things up for us. I hated her every other minute of the day, except for those few when I felt like I’d caught