Chapter 3 #2
I was sixteen, and maybe I shouldn’t have been stealing PopPop’s wine, but hell, it’s not the end of the world. Dad always let me have a glass or two at home.
Then again… Dad and his attitude toward drinking makes my stomach twist. In hindsight, it’s a small miracle I didn’t wind up with his problems.
“It wasn’t the drinking,” I snapped. “You invaded my privacy. You had no right. You wouldn’t even let me in when Gramps said I could hang out there and draw.”
“I had every right. That’s why I left you an empty bottle on the table to sketch.” He sounds almost infuriatingly calm, and the judgment in his voice fuels my irritation.
“Well, I’m not little Nile anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed.” I straighten up, swinging my legs to the floor. “If we’re going to do this, you can’t treat me like a kid.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on stealing more wine? It won’t be here. The cellar was cleared out months ago.”
“Jesus, no! That’s not the point.”
“Then I can trust you’ve grown up, Nile Queen?”
My eyes are razors.
Holy hell, I can’t believe he has the balls. It’s like he wants me to revert to that irrational, confused brat.
But I’m not sixteen anymore.
I’m not brimming with emotions and an eating disorder, a dead mom, an absentee father, and hormones that could ruin me.
“That depends,” I snap, folding my arms right back at him. Arguing with this asshat feels oddly comforting. A little familiarity among the weirdness. “Are you going to weld the door to the cellar shut?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Miss Blackthorn, but you’re no longer underage.” He doesn’t smirk, but his lip twists. “Unless you’re telling me I should? I sincerely hope you didn’t fall into the same pit Ethan did.”
Alcoholism.
The words cut deep. He probably doesn’t even know he’s done it, pressing on a bruise he didn’t know I had.
For fuck’s sake, no. I don’t have a drinking problem.
And I like to think I can handle my alcohol. I know when enough is enough and when to stop. I don’t feel the need to run to the bottle to escape bad days.
But Dad?
Yeah, maybe I don’t have a drinking problem, but I sure as hell know someone who does. I hate that even now, it’s being thrown in my face. A reminder that I’ll never outrun my dad’s own demons.
“I didn’t think so,” he says quietly.
“No, you don’t think much. Not unless you’re following orders. We agree on that.”
He gives me a classic Dad look and shakes his head.
Infuriating.
“What, are you mad I can call you out and get away with it now? Are you pissed I figured out you’re not a mind reader?”
“Don’t need to be.” He leans one hip against the table, every motion deliberate, and I can’t help the way my gaze skips over him.
This guy is stacked.
A wall of muscle. Neck like a bull. His face never expresses much emotion beyond mildly annoyed.
“So tell me,” he says, eyes fixed on me. “Are you older and wiser? Because if you are, we’ll have no problem. We just might get through this without killing each other.”
I laugh bitterly. “Oh, we will have problems.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks.
If he could, I don’t doubt for a second that he’d throw me over his shoulder and lock me away in my bedroom like he did when I’d try to sneak out past my bedtime.
So annoying, his arrogance.
Thinking he still knows what’s best when he doesn’t know me at all.
“Right, so now that we’ve established I’m no longer a minor,” I say, putting on my big girl hat. “You can cool it with the stink eye, my man. I’m not going to pawn the egg off on some dumb boy or replace your boring chicken salad wrap with spicy tuna again.”
“You used a habanero and left the seeds in,” he growls. “I’m from Maine, not New Mexico. Do not, under any circumstances, fuck with my food again, Nile.”
It’s insanely hard not to laugh, remembering his face when he bit into that concoction and spat it out. Totally worth Gramps grounding me for two days.
“My job is keeping you safe. Whatever form that takes,” he says. “I hope we’re both mature enough to appreciate that.”
“Whoa.” I throw up a hand. “Okay, stop right there. Your job is to keep the egg safe.”
“The egg and its owner. You.”
“That doesn’t involve interfering with my life. Or my choices. Just so we’re clear.”
There’s a faint, almost imperceptible scar slashing through his left eyebrow. I wonder if it helped make him the biggest dick alive.
“As long as you’re not making choices that jeopardize your safety, knock yourself out, Miss Blackthorn. However, let’s get one thing straight—we’re both here for Leonidas. For some unholy reason, your grandfather wanted us to work together.”
Flipping ouch.
The guilt trip stings.
The sad part is, I don’t disagree. It makes sense.
Just like it makes perfect sense that PopPop would leave me Holden when he was his head of security for so long. I never understood why he learned to trust this guy so much, but that’s not what matters.
Gramps did, and now I’m stuck with this asshole.
A sign from the universe that I should give him a tiny chance.
I exhale through my nose slowly, trying to be reasonable. Trying.
Logically, having someone like Holden around to help with this should be a relief. We get along like oil and water, but he can organize stuff I know nothing about.
He can also watch for threats I’m blind to. I’m not exactly used to looking behind my back at all.
Also, having someone else sharing the weirdness of this inheritance makes me feel a smidge less alone. It’s not like Dad would ever understand.
He’ll want me to pawn the Hera Egg off on one of his rich art collector friends ASAP.
Absolutely not.
Holden keeps watching me with those fierce desert dark eyes, still leaning against the table.
Age hasn’t softened him a bit. If anything, it’s only made him harder and meaner.
His giant arms stay folded over that Spartan shield of a chest.
When I look at him like this, if I tilt my head and squint really hard, I can see how some unlucky lady tolerated his existence just long enough to produce a kid with him.
Shame he doesn’t have a personality to match the whole Hercules vibe.
There’s also something oddly magnetic in his eyes, the intensity of his irritation.
I look away from the hard line of his chin and back to his dark-brown eyes, a satellite hell frozen over.
I can’t imagine his love life.
I shouldn’t imagine his love life.
If he isn’t married anymore, he probably has his pick of hookups. Some poor girl who hasn’t experienced his riveting conversation skills might be tempted by the scary-hot look, assuming she doesn’t have to stick around for pillow talk.
That air of danger is tempting.
The aura of a man who’s seen some things. I know he’s former military, and no one can take that away from him.
His eyes narrow slightly.
My heart gallops.
So ridiculous.
Here we are, having a staring contest, and I’m losing because he knocks me off-kilter with a look. He’s very good at that.
Another chill zings up my spine.
I’m not intimidated. I know he wouldn’t hurt me.
My stomach twists. It’s having him around, I think. This unwanted chaperone and the ugly possibility that I even need one.
PopPop’s letter was nice and vague, after all. Just how much danger am I in?
“Where’s Kit?” I ask, mostly to distract myself from the simmering tension in the room. “She seems like a sweet girl.”
“Gone. Not your problem.” His mouth presses into a hard line.
“Um, okay.” I’m a little taken aback and I shouldn’t be. “Seeing how you’re doing your whole bodyguard thing now, I figure it wouldn’t hurt to ask. God forbid you take a compliment, father of the year. Will she be hanging around with us? I bet it can’t be easy finding a babysitter on short notice.”
God, I hope so.
She’s definitely the fun one in the Verity family.
He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. Muscles bulge again, and I do my best not to look.
“My parents will look after Kit as long as this godforsaken job takes. I ran her over to their place,” he says. “Now, do you have any idea where you want to start, or is it too early for that?”
I stiffen. Rhino prick.
“Well, since I’ve known about this treasure and had my life turned upside down for a grand total of two hours, I’d say yeah, it’s a tad early. Like, give a girl a day or two.”
“It was just a question.” For a faint second, he sounds apologetic.
“Yeah, a dumb one.”
He stares at me, obviously unwilling to say the magic words. My emotions fizz like champagne, gently shaken, not stirred.
“You don’t have to be on sentry mode all the time, you know,” I snap. “You obviously haven’t changed. At all.”
“Funny, I noticed the same thing, Nile. Gimme a damn break.” He sighs. “Really, the only one who never changed was Mr. Blackthorn.”
My heart falls at how true that is.
“For the record, I’m not my father. I’m responsible, Holden. And no, Gramps didn’t change. He also knew how to treat me like an actual human being.”
He opens his mouth and hesitates. Possibly for the first time in his life.
My throat scrapes with sadness.
Being judged because I’m the daughter of a failed sculptor and a successful alcoholic isn’t new. Neither is being reminded how much I acted up when I was young.
Somehow, it hurts more coming from him, the last real living piece of my grandfather’s world.
Things really don’t change, do they?
“I’m treating you appropriately,” he mutters. “If we’re going to get through this, you’re welcome to de-escalate first—”
“Don’t bother,” I bite off.
Then I’m gone, pushing past him out the door and marching up to my old guest room. It’s only when I shut the door that I let the tears come, slumping on the bed, grateful it’s still there.
Outside, it’s getting dark.
My reflection looks watery against the glass, a miserable portrait in the black night.
People don’t change, but the rest?
Time is brutal.
I look around, scanning empty walls once plastered in grand paintings, the bare spot in the corner that once held a comfy lounge chair.
Almost everything I loved here is gone.
Just like Gramps himself.
Everything except for this secret I never wanted.
I drop my head into my hands, fingers pressed deep into my eyes.
I never asked for any of this.
The Hera Egg. This is the kind of thing that turns the art world on its head and rocks historians.
And by some insane twist of fate, it’s mine.
I’m one little fit away from hysteria.
But I won’t break.
I won’t fail my grandfather’s last wish.
I won’t strangle Holden before he protects me from whatever big, bad messy stuff I have coming my way.
So I take a deep breath and wipe my face with my hand.
This isn’t some weird challenge, I’m sure.
PopPop left a gift so heavy because he loves me. Because he knows I’ll get it like no one else in the family. Because he trusts me to find it a home, wherever that may be.
He did this for me.
He wanted to show me beyond any doubt that I was always his cherished granddaughter, no different from my cousins. So much more than my father.
Now, I just need the will to see this through and treasure the journey he’s dropped on my head.