Chapter 26 #2
“Stop saying my name like that! I don’t deserve your pity.
Neither does she. She dumped me with my grandfather.
She left me with him to chase her dreams and live a life on the road with my junkie father.
She didn’t want the life of a politician, and who could blame her?
But she didn’t want me either. So, she left me with him.
He adopted me when I was eight, and I was a DuPont under his wing from then on.
“Henry DuPont doesn’t believe in kindness, to him that’s a weakness.
I was taught the art of deception, how to be sharp and untouchable.
He handed me money before I knew what it could buy.
Gave me women like they were favors. Pushed drugs like they were candy.
When I was bullied in school for my love of comics, he said it would ‘toughen me up.’ There was no room to dream.
I was to become a politician—end of discussion.
So, when I tell you I’m not good, it’s not me being modest. It’s because I was taught to be what I’ve become.
My only escape was my comic books. It was how I learned I wanted to do good as congressman.
I’d planned to. I wanted to spearhead a literacy program for the children of Chicago.
Then on the night of election, I was introduced to Echelon Vanguard, and my life hasn’t been the same.
My methods might not make sense to you because you’re beautiful and moral, but I know the best way to cleanse the rot inside is to plant myself there. ”
Now I want to throw something. How could the person who was tasked with raising him, with loving him, fail him so epically? Who would Slade DuPont be if his grandfather hadn’t engineered and manipulated his life?
I stand, moving to look up at him. I wrap both arms around his neck and press up on my toes.
My lips find his, and tentatively I brush them there.
They are rough, and I can taste the salt of sweat on his upper lip.
He groans, his hands pressing into my back and dragging me closer.
I don’t care what he says … he’s always found a way to do good by me and, in his own way, the other girls. He can’t think he’s alone in this.
My lips part, and I allow his eager tongue to dip inside.
His hand snaps up to the back of my neck, and suddenly I’m not in control anymore.
He is. His mouth crushes against mine, knocking the air from my lungs.
It’s all-consuming and my body sags into him.
He devours me, nipping at my bottom lip as he pushes us back into the bookshelves of his beloved comics.
My breath hitches as he angles my face with a firm grip.
Then his fingers are in my hair, tangling and fisting as his mouth breaks from mine only to latch onto my jaw, then neck.
My head falls back, and I let out a whimper.
Is this happening? Or to steal his words …
what’s happening? His glasses bump against my skin, and the scraping sensation has me spiraling.
I reach to remove them, but he snags my wrist, pinning it above me. “Don’t.” He nips at my neck. “They stay on. I don’t want to miss a single expression you make.”
My mind is fuzzy. I can’t think, can’t breathe. I sway with the sharp pull of his mouth on mine as he ravages me. It’s rough and desperate, and—
There’s a knock on the open door, and when I glance over, Edmond is standing there, dressed in his butler’s suit. I yank up the strap of my cami and try to shove away from the bookshelf. What time is it?
“Sir, your flight to D.C. leaves in an hour. The car is ready when you are.”
Slade doesn’t move from where he’s pinned me to the bookshelf and holds my gaze. “I don’t have to leave until 4:00 a.m.”
Edmond clears his throat. “It is four in the morning, sir.”
He pushes up his frames with his middle finger while his eyes stay lingering on me. “I’ll be there in a minute, Edmond.”
Just like that, a hollow pit drops in my stomach. I shouldn’t feel let down, but the disappointment still comes. More time without him here. Edmond dips back out, and I fight a yawn. I didn’t realize how tired I was.
Slade offers me a weary smile.
“D.C., huh?” I ask, breaking eye contact and focusing on the missing door to his bathroom. Something squeezes in my chest.
“I’ve been called into session. I should be back for a long weekend. They’ll push hard until we break for August.” He turns my face toward him. “I don’t want to leave you. Especially not now.”
“Sometimes … I don’t think I’ll ever get to … leave.” I frown, lips pressing together. My words are slow, and I blink, tired.
He cups the side of my face, and I nuzzle into his palm. Then he slips both arms beneath me, one under my knees, the other cradling my back, and my feet fly off the ground.
My stomach lurches as my body’s made weightless. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as he moves across his bedroom and out the door. “What are you doing?” My voice echoes along the openness of the mezzanine.
“Putting you to bed.” He steps with ease down the stairs, and the air is cool along my backside and thighs. He nestles me close to his chest, and the smell of him wafts around me, lulling me into a comforting warmth. Such care, such a supportive embrace—I smile into him.
Through the stillness of the living room and darkness of the hallway, he makes it to my bedroom where he nudges the door open with his knee.
When he reaches my bed, he bends enough to lower me into the sheets.
The mattress dips, and he pulls the covers up and over me, then brushes my messy hair away from my face.
My eyelids flutter, wanting to close but not wanting to miss the last of his face.
My heart unravels when he leans over me, fingers gliding along the curve of my head from temple to nape like he’s memorizing me.
He tucks a few loose curls behind my ear.
He’s tentative and soft as he lowers his mouth and presses his lips to my forehead.
His kiss is firm, yet it lingers, and something in my chest tightens.
This is more than obsession; this is dangerously close to devotion.
I let my eyes fall closed, worried tears might slip from the corners of them.
“Sleep, Thea. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left wondering how it all changed so fast.