your broken heart? That’s disturbing, Patrick.”
“It was stupid. Irresponsible. And for the record, she was of consenting age.”
She was barely eighteen, and him fifty-six. Consenting, or not, it’s fucking gross.
“I’m making amends. Building my castle back up, so to speak.
“You’re looking for connections.” To hell with beating around the bush. This guy is literally a professional at the game, and I’ll get nowhere unless I come right out and say it.
“That’s only partly true. I am very curious in the study.”
“You’d have to be sick in the head to hold any curiosity about this study.”
“Then, why are you involved?”
Because I am the study. Of course, I’ll never tell him that. “Why didn’t you come to me first?”
“I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me after … everything.”
“And how do I know this isn’t your attempt to spy?”
“Considering who the members are--you, in particular--I’d consider that a pretty costly endeavor.” He isn’t kidding. If any one of the members, some of whom are former military and FBI, politicians and even royalty, ever got wind of malicious intent on his part, he’d find himself strung up like every other poor sap who comes begging for a handout.
Spinning my chair around, I plop back down and tug my cigarette case from my pocket. “It isn’t up to me,” I say, tapping one against the case. “They’ve asked me to invite you to a masquerade in two weeks. I’m asking you to decline.”
Snorting a laugh, Boyd shakes his head. “You … you owe me this. Your whole family owes me.”
“Consider this a favor. A friendly warning.”
“I’m not declining, Lucian. I want Senate, and this is my opportunity. If I have to pretend to enjoy busting kneecaps and smacking around a few unfortunate souls. So be it.”
The collective will see right through his request. They already have, which means I don’t have to say anything else on the matter.
“Then, we have nothing more to discuss. Rand will see you out.”
Lips pressed tight, he pushes up from his chair. “I really hoped to have a better relationship with you. For Amelia and Roark’s sake.”
“My wife and son are dead. I see no point.”
Clearing his throat, he rolls his shoulders back, clearly offended. “Have a nice day.”
Without another word, he slithers toward the door like the snake he is, and I huff in exasperation.
In-laws.
Chapter 18
Isadora
It occurs to me how long it’s been since I’ve ventured outside for leisure. Used to be I’d spend long hours at the beach with Aunt Midge, reading books and soaking up the sun on days when she didn’t have to be at The Shoal until later. Working on my tan was about the only thing I accomplished those days, back when everything was so carefree.
Before the incident, anyway.
Afterward, life got complicated. Darker. The sun didn’t seem to shine as bright, and nothing in my world was carefree.
“It’s a damn shame, the way this place has gone to shambles.” With her hands set in her lap, atop a blanket that seems way too thick for the summer sun beating against my neck right now, Laura huffs, the sound of her voice breaking my thoughts. “I hired the best gardeners in the state. Blackthorne Manor was featured in a magazine. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t.” Glancing around at the withered husks of what must’ve once been vibrant and colorful flowers, I can’t even imagine such a thing. “It must’ve been beautiful at one time.”
“Oh … Easton was an artist. Absolutely incredible. If only the man wasn’t so damn stupid, getting himself caught up in drugs and hustling.”
“Easton?”
“The gardener. We found out he was pushing his drugs on Lucian, and promptly put a stop to that.”
At the mention of his name, I look up to the office window and catch the devil himself staring down at me. I can’t imagine a serious man like him high on drugs. With a slight smile, I wave.
He merely continues to stare down at me, and all that moves is the upward curl of smoke from his cigarette.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh, my word, look who decided to grace us with his presence! Patrick Boyd.” Laura’s voice snaps me out of my trance, and I turn to see an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with graying hair and a matching gray suit, stroll toward us. Slightly handsome for his age, I can almost hear Aunt Midge referring to him as a silver fox, as she sometimes says. He adjusts his glasses and extends a hand