Chapter 40
forty
Throbs of irritation racket my temples. A pair of little hands reach around to massage my scalp, and I melt into her touch. “Fuck, baby. Right there.”
“Grayson Umbridge,” she says, but when I peek one eye open and stare at the screen again, I correct her. “And he’s a student?”
“Scholarship. Not affiliated with a house.”
The stool scrapes on the hardwood as she settles next to me and plucks an apple from the acacia wood bowl. Crunching through a bite, she contemplates something for a long minute.
“Remember what he said once about extracting organs from me. That was weird.”
I huff a laugh. “So weird.”
“Scout is asking Rowan if he found anything at the scene, and then she’ll text me.”
One of my eyebrows raises as I slip my arm around her waist to tug her closer. Pressing my lips to her forehead, I ask, “You two becoming friends?”
She shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that. The only friend I’ve had was murdered. And I wouldn’t wish that on your best friend’s sister.”
I squeeze her tighter. “I’m your friend.”
With a sad smile, she sighs, like remembering old times. “You did always sneak me the best treats.” Her gaze turns heated as she finishes her apple. “But I don’t let my friends fuck me in the ass.”
I tap my finger to the end of her nose. “Good.”
A deeper thought strikes me suddenly. “Him and Scout are both pre-med…” I swallow hard. “Do you think Rowan had anything to do with Julien?”
Her chewing slows, eyes fixed on the polished concrete countertop.
My mom brought over a ton of edible foods, stocked the kitchen, organized it, and then made Dad cook us a week’s worth of meals. I told them about the place because we were desperate for real food. But I can trust them to keep quiet about it and protect us.
“I don’t think so, but he’d know a lot about what happened to the body. He’s in a perfect position to cover up things and appear innocent.” Mainly to herself, she mutters, “Maybe his tears were guilt or an act.”
“You said the body had a small puncture through the ribs. But the organs themselves weren’t, uh, harvested.”
“Not an incision big enough for that. Thank the gods.”
A phone buzzes, rattling the still silence. A flash of a notification from Ace pops up on her screen. She glances at it, but doesn’t respond…
I asked her to let him know she’s safe with me the day after she arrived here, so she did. That didn’t stop him from showing up at the gate last night. Found us through his men, I suppose. But Ashlyn wouldn’t let him in.
I think she feels betrayed that he’d put her with Talon. And she’s worried she’d still have to go through with it.
Only she has no idea how I would kill everyone who tried to make her. Including Moretti, who hasn’t been seen since New Year’s Eve.
I stretch my neck. Since last night, we’ve been digging into who the mysterious Gray was. And it was easy to grab his school records from Valen Von Dovish, my sister’s appointed, and a talented hacker.
“I think you broke my pussy,” she says, rounding the island while sliding my protein shake toward me.
I catch it in one hand and smirk, taking a long drink. “Then I’ll switch to that tight little asshole again.”
She tosses her apple core into the compost bin and tilts her head. “Sure, okay.”
“Fuck! I love you.”
“But not right now— Stay back.” Holding her fingers up like a cross, she creeps a few steps away. “I want to work on a decorating plan for our house.”
“I’ll allow it. I want to find Moretti. And figure out what Grayson Noel Umbridge has to do with Julien’s murder.”
She looks incredible in my T-shirt, paired with my sweatpants she’d found in a drawer. Tied tight. Top hanging to her knees. Hair in a ponytail. No makeup. And a golden glow that reminds me of our summers together.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She wanders away, saying, “I’ll be in my…office, Mr. Cardell.”
It was one of her favorite rooms. I’d set it up like a designer’s studio. But with an architect’s table. Stool. Computer. Big boards on the walls for her to put up samples, color swatches, whatever she wanted. And she’s been dying to get in there.
While I’ve been itching to leave the house to find that piece of shit who dared to touch her.
Then I’ll torture, maim, and kill him slowly.
First, I have one task to complete before the next semester starts.
Dressed in a pressed suit, I kiss my love goodbye and head out for the day. “Errands,” I tell her—plain voice, loaded lie. All so she doesn’t worry.
She also doesn’t need to know that her father and I had an icy chat last night over the fence line.
Asa made the excuse that he’d okayed Moretti’s proposal because I hadn’t moved fast enough to propose to Ashlyn. He didn’t believe I had his daughter’s best interests in mind and simply wanted possession of his casino.
I told him he didn’t by allowing that piece of shit near her.
That seemed to make him reconsider, at least enough that he called his men off for the night.
Car tires crunch over the cobblestone driveway of the president’s house on campus. I’d requested a special meeting, even though classes don’t start until next week. This couldn’t wait.
She’s not in her stuffy office, but it’s apparent workers have infiltrated the domain and are remodeling the entire place. President Damon sits in a well-lit study on the first floor, the winter sunshine streaming in through the large cased back windows bracketed by floral drapes.
When I enter, she sets some papers and her gold-rimmed glasses on top of the pile next to her on a marble-topped pedestal table. The warm smile she’d given me at our first meeting is gone. Now? It’s business. And begrudging cooperation.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Cardell. I’m assuming it has to do with your new appointed… But the POT—”
“I’m here to tell you what the POT will say. Who the new POT will assign to me.”
Her chin shakes slightly, but she nods once. “I see. Because of your brave duty in exposing the traitors within our ranks, I’ll allow that. Who is it the POT should appoint to you?”
“Ashlyn Donovan,” a voice behind me states as he enters the room with a bold swagger. Ace Donovan’s blue eyes flick to mine. “But he doesn’t get the final say. I do.”
My belly twists. We’d discussed this already, and I reiterated it last night. The fact that I own a majority of shares of his livelihood. That I’m the one keeping his daughter safe. And I won’t let her see him without a solid commitment that she’s to be mine.
“I’m not giving her up easily,” he says, gritty and dark. “She’s my favorite.”
“She’s mine, too,” I spit out, eyes narrowed. I can’t withhold the rage I feel that he left her with that animal, alone and hurt.
“And what conditions do you have, Mr. Donovan?” the president asks.
He scans my frame, sizing me up. A fighter, his body shifts to a ready stance, but his shoulders relax as he says, “Before I sign the appointment, he needs to tie up some loose ends for me first.”
Loose ends?
Ace Donovan has no idea how good I am at cutting them.