7. DNA, RNA, and Proteins #2
He walked to the chair, sat, then tugged at the leather around his wrists and at his fingertips.
I tried not to watch, but it felt impossible.
Cheeks flushing, I turned my back until I could be sure his gloves were off.
Pretending to straighten my nightstand became clearing off my nightstand as I swiped the contents—including the sleeping pills but not the lamp—into the top drawer.
Crossing my arms, I twisted at the waist just in time to see him tuck his gloves into his coat pocket. Andreas then set his elbows on the chair arms. He may have appeared bored to someone who didn’t grow up with him, but I recognized the calculating quality behind those droopy-lidded eyes.
“You have more roommates?” he asked, glancing at the closed door behind me.
“Three in total,” I replied as I gathered a pile of textbooks from the floor at the foot of my bed and stacked them on the windowsill. “Diya and Nakita, both of whom you just met briefly, plus Kendra.”
He frowned, as if I’d confessed to sleeping in a dumpster. “You feel safe? To share a room?”
I stared at him and his question, at a loss.
His face reassembled itself into something perfectly neutral, but he added, “You might recall, my brother Henrik and I shared a room, for a time.”
“Ah, yes.” Now his question made sense. “I remember. And, yes. Diya is great. I trust her.”
Andreas’s stare seemed to drill into mine, as though hoping to pull the truth out of me with the force of his attention alone. When I said nothing else, he glanced away, dusting the fabric of his black pants with the back of his fine fingers.
“So ...” I glanced behind me to ensure I wouldn’t be sitting on another pile of laundry; finding the space empty save for the mattress and covers, I sat on my bed. “What brings you to my humble abode?”
Andreas exhaled, the sound almost imperceptible, but enough for me to know he was still irritated. “I wanted to talk.”
“We’re talking now.”
His eyes seemed to darken. “You didn’t call.”
I blinked. “When?”
The subtle shift in the line of his mouth told me he was already losing patience. “After Tobias visited you yesterday. I requested that you let me know if he or Henrik bothered you.”
Oh. That.
I crossed my arms again, fighting against a strange sense of disappointment, and I felt my own temper begin to simmer. “I never agreed to your request.”
“It would be wise to keep me apprised.” His voice was ice-water calm, which only made his words sound condescending.
I didn’t respond. Not for the first time this week, I reminded myself that we weren’t anything to each other. I owed him nothing, not even an explanation. And he owes me nothing.
Andreas leaned back in the desk chair, studying me with a flat, cold intensity that reminded me of a microscope. “He will escalate. You know that, right?”
“If he does, I’ll deal with it.” I couldn’t explain it, not even to myself, but I didn’t want Andreas to be here because of Tobias, or Genetix, or any reason related to his family or mine.
And the fact that this —Tobias’s unwelcomed visit yesterday—was the purpose of Andreas’s visit today, annoyed me.
He tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair, his gaze assessing, evaluating, calculating. “You should have called me.”
I looked at the water stains on the ceiling, then at the closet door where I’d just shoved my laundry, then at him. “This is getting us nowhere. What exactly do you want, Andreas?”
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes flicking over my face, my arms, my posture, as if recalibrating some internal schema. Finally, he said, “I want to protect you.”
Something about the way he said it made my pulse trip. Not in a romantic way. More like how you feel when a fire alarm goes off in the middle of an exam and you don’t know if it’s a drill or the real thing.
“Don’t,” I said, more softly than I meant. “If that’s why you’re here, you should leave.”
Andreas’s jaw flexed. “You should not have to deal with Tobias and his threats. I know he threatened you. I know?—”
“If you felt that way, then you should’ve left me alone,” I snapped, the words out before I could choke them back. “You’re the reason I’m on his radar now.”
Eyes narrowed, exhaling through his nose, he stood abruptly. The chair nearly toppled over, but he caught it, steadied it, and then turned to face me. “If you had answered my messages last month, all of this could have been avoided.”
“If you’d left well enough alone, then Tobias wouldn’t have shown up yesterday.” I also stood, squaring my shoulders, not caring how angry I sounded. “Why would I trust you to protect me from a situation you created?”
Something like fury passed behind his features. “You really want Henrik or Tobias to inherit your father’s company? Is that what you want?”
I said nothing, clenching my hands until my knuckles hurt. I couldn’t bring myself to lie about this again like I’d done in the coffee shop, especially not after seeing Tobias yesterday.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“No,” I whisper-shouted, having just enough wherewithal to keep my voice down so as not to give Nakita and Diya something new to gossip about.
“No, I don’t. I want revenge. I want them destitute and desperate.
I want the company so badly, I can’t sleep at night thinking about your evil father and all the ways I wish he would suffer.
I hope your entire family—you excluded—dies in a fire. Happy?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he took a step back, his chin lifting as he stared at me and my ugly confessions.
I realized I’d gone too far, but the anger wouldn’t stop choking me.
I wanted to be finished with my past bitterness and resentment, but my true feelings had spiraled out, vengefulness saturating my words.
I dropped my eyes and stared at the threadbare carpet, wishing I could go back to the version of myself that existed before my admission ten seconds ago, before seeing him last week, before all of it.
Why did he come here? Why can’t he just leave me alone?
My heart ached, just like last week. And the rubber bands around my lungs returned, squeezing tight.
Rubbing my forehead, I heaved a sigh and it was just on the tip of my tongue to ask him to leave when he said, “I’m not only here because of Tobias.”
I blinked, peeking at him, unsure what to do with that. “Oh?”
He hesitated, then moved closer. Not in a threatening way, just enough to bridge the gap between us.
“I have found another way to ensure you inherit Genetix upon my father’s death.
And do not worry, it does not involve anything you might find revolting, like marrying me or having my child.
” For once, he’d allowed emotion to enter his voice, and it sounded like disdain.
I bit back a sarcastic response, instead grinding out, “Fine. What is it?”
He hesitated for a split second, then said, “I will adopt you.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to say, Just kidding , or, Got you!
When he didn’t, I blinked. Then blinked again. His passive stare—deadly serious, not even a hint of humor in it—told me what I could not accept from his words alone. I realized he meant it.
He meant it. He’s serious.
“You have read the pertinent page of the will, it makes no mention of marriage or any other type of union, nor does it state that the grandchild needs to be biological.” Andreas sounded as though he were explaining the rules to a card game and not outlining why it made sense for him to adopt me.
“It merely states ‘first grandchild.’ When I adopt you, you will obviously be the first. You’re two years older than me, which—given the situation—is somewhat amusing. ”
I stared at him, completely dumbstruck, my brain floundering. “But—but?—”
I searched for the flaw, the trick, the punchline, and found none.
The side of his mouth hitched but his gaze was wholly and starkly devoid of humor as he asked, “So, what say you, Samantha? Will you consent to be my daughter?”