“What’s the point of her telling you anyway? Are we supposed to go see him at the hospital?” Josh bristles. “If I see him in person, I might just end up spitting in his face.” He’s still resentful that Mom never went to jail for kidnapping me. Actually, so is Bryce.
Guilt still plagues them. They blame themselves for running when I fought Mom and bought them time. If they’d stayed with me… If they had been kidnapped and taken to the cabin, perhaps I wouldn’t have suffered so much. They’re certain that, if only they’d been there, I might not have made up the “illusion” of a girl who brought me food and water.
They don’t realize that having them in the cabin with me would’ve driven me to greater despair and desperation. I’m the oldest. Back then I was much bigger and stronger, too. It’s my responsibility to keep my baby brothers safe.
Pietas et unitas.Loyalty and unity. It doesn’t merely mean being devoted to the family and putting on a united front. It’s doing one’sdutyto the family. And I’m a Huxley to the core.
I look at my brothers with helpless affection, wishing I could erase the memory and its effect on them. But the only thing I cando is tell them the truth so they can be on their guard. “Vincent wants to see us. All of us. I guess he’s decided he really misses his grandchildren now that he’s facing his mortality.”
“Fuck him. I’m not his grandson,” Josh spits.
“When was he ever a grandfather to us anyway? He sided with Mom.” Bryce’s tone says there could have been no greater betrayal.
“He told Mom and Harvey whoever can bring us to him first can take over the family business.”
“No way. Those sexist Nesovian assholes will never accept her.”
“But it’s enough to shake Harvey’s legitimacy. There are bound to be others who want to usurp Harvey and take over,” I point out. “He believes Mom’s going to do whatever it takes to get what she wants this time—to bring us ‘back into the family.’”
“You mean what she did twenty-two years ago wasn’t bad enough?” Josh sneers.
I shrug. “He seems pretty certain she’ll throw women at us this time.”
“Because that’s what he would do. Drugging you using Soledad? Seriously?” Bryce snorts. “I want Mom to escalate until whatever we do becomes justifiable self-defense. Although I wouldn’t mind fucking up Harvey either.” The sharp gleam in his eyes says he’d love nothing more than to strangle both our mother and uncle. “Why couldn’tourmom be an orgy-loving, megalomaniac Hollywood movie producer?”
I laugh. It’s a description that fits our cousin Huxley Lasker’s father to a tee.
Bryce turns to me. “What about your wife, though? Is she, you know,safe? Not somebody Mom or Harvey got to manipulate you?”
“So far, so good. But it won’t matter even if she isn’t.” The memory of Lareina’s softness and sweet smile fleets through mymind, creating a sudden wave of hesitation. I forcibly remind myself of the purpose of our marriage and harden my jaw. “I plan to get rid of her as soon as I get the promotion.”
* * *
After my brothers leave, I realize I’m out of sticky notes.Weird. Thought I had a new pad.
Cynthia isn’t available, since she took off early to visit her mother in the hospital. The poor old woman had a heart attack a couple of days ago, and my assistant is worried sick. The surgery apparently went as well as it could, given the patient’s age and condition, but it doesn’t sound promising.
I get off my butt and go to the supply room, opening the doors to three cabinets without finding what I want. The shelves are neatly organized, but where are the sticky notes? There only seem to be legal pads, pens, spiral notebooks—
“Hi. Can I help you with something?”
I start and turn around. A lithe blonde smiles at me, her moss-green eyes bright and friendly. Her hair is cropped to her shoulders and cascades a bit messily, half wavy and uncontrollable. A white sleeveless halter-top shows her slender shoulders and arms, and pink slacks fall straight from her waist. A pair of beige shoes with the tips worn white peek from under the hems. Not a lawyer. Probably office staff.
“Did I scare you?” Her smile grows a bit apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just thought you might need some help after I saw you open all those cabinets.”
“I’m looking for sticky notes.” My tone is cool but polite. She seems cordial enough, but something about her rubs me the wrong way. It’s possible I’m just paranoid after what Harvey and Aunt Jeremiah told me.
Not that I think Harvey or Mom would use the woman before me to bring me back to thefamily. The firm does backgroundchecks before hiring anybody. If there’s any tie between her and the Dunkels, HR would’ve sent her a polite form rejection letter.
“Oh. Right here.” She walks past me, her floral and citrus perfume tickling my nose. Not a hint of cigarettes. Interesting. She has a raspy voice that might be due to smoking.
She reaches into a cabinet I opened just moments ago, then stretches, pushing her arm deep inside and fumbling. As she does so, the thin center strip of her top shifts, revealing an old burn scar on her left shoulder blade.
Everything inside me freezes as I stare at the white, puckered patch of flesh. Is she…
Queen?
Her eyes aren’t dual-colored, but sometimes colors change as people grow older. My heart starts to race. I flex and unflex my hands as little tremors start in my gut and spread all the way to my extremities.
