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I don’t even stop as I reach his study, flinging open the door and bursting inside.
Thorne is seated at his computer, tapping something on his cell phone. I don’t have a plan, but I spot his gun and holster laid out on the end of his desk.
Heat and rage pricks behind my eyes as I dive for it, wrestle the weapon free, then remove the safety. Fuck him. Fuck this place. Fuck Noire House and the endless secrets and lies and misery that has been my life.
This asshole threatened my mother’s memory, and lied to me about knowing her.
My hands are unsteady as I blink back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to crush me. Meanwhile, I’m standing in bare feet and one of Ky’s giant tees, and the man in front of me is the picture of calm.
He swivels to look at me, taking in my wild appearance, running his gaze the length of my figure before settling on the trembling gun I have aimed at his heart.
In true Thorne style, he slides his chair closer, readjusting the barrel of the gun to point upwards, pressing below his chin. “This is the angle you want. It’ll do the most damage. From here, you’ll easily blow right through the back of my skull.”
My fingers flex around the trigger.
“Explain this.” With my free hand I toss him my unlocked phone, still open on the unknown messages and photo.
I quickly wrap both hands around the gun, but it still shakes. Blood rushes through my body, sending chills right down my arms and legs, and I can feel my heart being torn in two before he even speaks.
He runs a thumb across his jaw, barely glancing at the phone, instead he keeps his gaze on mine. “Who sent these messages to you?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” My lungs burn. “You control my phone. My life. Everything.”
“That photo was taken a long time ago.”
My nostrils flare with the intensity of my breathing.
“Don’t you dare lie to me.” I’m equally furious and terrified.
The man before me is like a lake, calm and smooth at the surface, and all I want to do is hurl my weight at the water to disturb that serene exterior.
“You don’t want to know the real truth, Foxglove. It’s better this way.”
“That’s all you ever say, and it’s bullshit. You’re a fucking coward.” I shove the metal harder against his stubbled jaw.
Thorne’s fingers dig tight into the fleshy part of my hips, holding me firmly in place as I stand between his knees.
“Ask anything of me, except this.” There’s a warning in his voice, and I’m intent on ignoring it. If he thinks he can own me, control me, manipulate me… and now keep secrets about my own family from me? He’s going to live to regret the day he even tried.
“You knew my mother,” I scream the words at him.
There’s a long pause as my hysteria hangs in the air between us.
“I did,” He says the words carefully.
Revulsion boils in my gut. I don’t want to hear it, but at the same time, can’t breathe without knowing this ugly, awful truth.
The grainy image and where his hand is caressing that intimate spot on her lower back is seared in my mind.
“What was she to you?” I don’t know if I’ll survive this. Is this why he was so reluctant to get close to me? Because my mother and him were…
As if he sees the dots connecting in my brain, he flexes his fingers. Applying more pressure to ground me back into this room and his presence as he shakes his head ever so slowly. “Not like that.” Thorne’s voice is low and even.
“Then tell me.” My eyes brim with tears, and my hands holding the gun tight against his skin shake uncontrollably. But I’m stuck here until I reach the inevitable, awful conclusion.
“Be grateful you didn’t know your parents, Foxglove.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
