Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,13
feel much like being on vacation, either. However, that didn’t mean I had to concede the point. “I know you’re not in the mood, but it might be nice to have something to take your mind off your troubles for a while. As far as I know, there’s nothing you have to do that can’t wait until you get back.” Not that I knew much of anything about what needed to be done. There would be insurance company wrangling for sure, and heaven only knew what would be involved in getting the ruins cleaned up and a new house built. Surely Steph and I could take care of some of that on their behalf.
“At least take a little time to think about it,” I urged. “If you decide to stay on the cruise, you can always change your mind and come home, but vice versa doesn’t work. Steph and I will find you a nice rental so you don’t have to stay in a hotel or anything. And we’ll start the ball rolling on insurance and stuff. There’s no need to make a bad situation worse by losing out on the rest of your cruise.”
He let out another heavy sigh. “When did you get so smart?”
I smiled at the affection in his tone. “Guess someone just raised me right.”
“All right. Your mother and I will talk it over before we make any hasty decisions. But you call us if there are any updates, or if there’s anything we need to do.”
“I promise.”
“We’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what we’ve decided.”
“Okay.”
I suspected from the tone of his voice that he was still leaning toward coming home immediately, and I couldn’t blame him. Probably I’d have done the same in his shoes. But at least I’d bought a little bit of time.
Of course, if I hadn’t been able to figure out how to explain my current circumstances over the course of the last few weeks, a couple of extra days probably weren’t going to help all that much.
For those of you who might be tempted, I wouldn’t recommend downing a tub of chocolate ice cream at four in the morning, even if you have just learned your childhood home burned to the ground. Steph and I had had help—she’d called Blake while I was on the phone with the Glasses, and he’d met me at the bottom of the stairs when I went to let Steph in. I felt like the third wheel all of a sudden, but that didn’t stop me from shoveling down the ice cream until my stomach felt queasy. The sugar high buoyed me for a while, but when the crash came, I decided it was safest to leave Steph and Blake to their own devices. I felt sick enough from overeating without getting myself all worked up about their relationship.
I excused myself and went back to my suite to brood in quiet solitude. I was trying to hold on to hope that the fire had been the result of faulty wiring or some other legitimate accidental cause. I’d brought enough hardship down on my adoptive family since the fateful day my car had slammed into Emmitt Cartwright and killed him, making me a Liberi. The last thing I wanted to do was be the cause of more pain and heartache.
I might have lived on in blissful ignorance for at least another few hours if I hadn’t decided to check my email.
I wasn’t getting a whole lot of email lately, not since I’d temporarily closed up my business as a private investigator. There was never anything important in my in-box, so mostly when I checked email, it was to delete the spam that had gotten through the filter. I was happily deleting away when my cursor hit a message that chilled my blood.
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING, screamed the subject line, and the name in the From column said Konstantin.
Dreading what I would see, I opened the email and held my breath.
Dear Nikki,
I hope this letter finds you well.
Actually, no, I don’t. I hope it finds you miserable and guilt stricken.
I’ve put a lot of time and thought into my current situation. I have been forced to step down as king of the Olympians, a position I’ve held for several centuries and to which I had become accustomed. I have been exiled from my people, forced to live in hiding for fear that the more predatory amongst them might want to ensure my permanent removal. I