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The coldness was back in his gaze, and I had no doubt that 'revenge' meant murder.
His ability to switch his emotions on and off at the flip of a switch had my stomach churning. I couldn’t trust this man.
"I need to see Rose."
He suddenly let me go, sighing, and ran his hand through his golden hair. When he released his hand, a lock of hair was in his face.
I wanted to reach up and brush it away. There was a sadness in his eyes that made me want to feel bad for him.
Again, I was switching on and off from feeling compassionate to feeling mistrust, and it was driving me crazy.
Where I'd come from, I knew my place in the world and how to exist in it.
Here, I was torn between my natural inclination to care, and the need to survive.
"Aster, I promise you that Rose is happy."
"I don’t believe you. I need to see it with my own eyes."
"You will see her at her wedding."
"Her wedding? That's too late. What if she wants to escape?”
"Trust me, she wants to marry my brother."
“I can’t trust you. Not until I see with my own eyes.”
“Fine.” He stood up, looming over me like a dark shadow. “If you help me, then I will take you to your sister.”
I jumped to my feet, meeting his gaze. “Before her wedding?”
“Before her wedding.” He held out his hand, and I took it, shaking it, feeling like I was making a promise to the devil to save my sister.
If I’d only known how much it was the truth.
Eight
I hung up the phone, having just arranged a new contract for a popular fragrance company to launch its new brand at the opening of Posh.
Now, I sat at my desk, my palms laid flat, with three burner phones in between them, and tried to get the image of what I'd just seen on that screen off of my mind.
I hadn’t wanted to take Aster there, and yet, I’d felt like I needed her to see, to know what she, what we, were up against.
But goddamn, I hated the look on her face when she understood what was happening. It’s like I could see the innocence draining from her…
I regretted showing her now; there were other things I could’ve done that weren’t so revolting.
The dead man in the middle of the room--no surprise. I’d known for a while now that his days were up.
The orgy of dead eyed women--not happy about it, but not a surprise either.
But the blood...the room was bathed in it.
I knew my father was sick but that level of sickness…
I wasn't one to kink-shame but to not only rape women, but to also hurt them like that when you did it... it was nauseating. Unforgivable.
My heart was racing, my breathing so harsh, I even registered the sound in my own ears. I was losing it, and here I was, just sitting here like a lump of fucking coal, doing nothing.
