“What are you doing?” Igor asked.
I set the bottle of wine on the ledge and then pulled my sweater over my head, tossing it aside. My trousers were next. I climbed into the hot tub, dressed only in moonlight. I sank into the hot, bubbling water, wishing I could see the stars, but the snow and clouds concealed everything.
It reminded me of the night on the yacht with Flynn. It seemed like so long ago. Touching and holding one another, the beauty of the stars above us, the promise of a future of unknown possibilities.
Now I’d gone and destroyed it all because of my inability to let go of the ghost of my past.
“It’s good we didn’t wind up together,” I told Igor. “I would’ve become exactly what I am now, only much sooner.”
“What’s that, Barrett?”
I grasped the bottle of wine and brought it to my lips. I took a long, slow drink. “Soulless.”
Chapter7
FLYNN
A few dayspassed without a word from Barrett. It was the dead of night, and the library door was open just a crack. Still, the sound of their voices swept across the hallway. Soft, like a hushed whisper of intimacy.
“I’ve never seen him this way,” Duncan said.
“Never?” Ash asked. “Not once in all your years of friendship and brotherhood?”
My mouth quirked up into a sinister smile. I reached for the glass of scotch, wondering what number I was on. It didn’t matter. Day was night, night was day. None of it had any meaning.
“Never. Even when Dolinsky kidnapped her, Flynn didn’t unravel,” Duncan replied.
“I can hear you!” I called out from behind my desk.
Their conversation ceased and then the library door opened, and they entered.
“It’s like a tomb in here,” Ash muttered, reaching for the light switch.
“Don’t,” I snapped.
There was enough firelight in the library to illuminate the room.
Ash’s hand fell away from the switch.
“You can both go,” I sneered. “I don’t need you watching over me like I’m a child.”
Duncan pulled Ash to his side and whispered something too low for me to hear. Nodding, she cast one last glance at me before departing.
“I don’t need your pity!” I yelled after her.
“Flynn, enough.” Duncan’s brow furrowed. “Da would be ashamed of you right now.”
His words, meant to injure, ricocheted off me like I was wearing armor.
Duncan was right.
Malcom would be ashamed of me. But he was dead and couldn’t witness my downward spiral.
She’d left her hairpin, a gift I had bought for her for our six-month anniversary. It was a dagger, built from a solid piece of metal, the handle adorned with intricate scrollwork. It was a weapon of beauty and high-quality craftsmanship.
I’d picked it up off her bedside table and brought it with me into the library. It currently rested on the edge of my desk. I grabbed it with one hand and then pressed my other palm flat, spread my fingers wide, and then proceeded to stab the spaces between my flesh, marring the desktop beneath my hand.
“You’re ruining a twenty-thousand-dollar desk,” Duncan said flatly.
