Page 25 of Secret Dynasty

“So, tell me,” he said as he poured the amber liquor into a crystal glass, “who missed me, dirty girl? You?”

My mouth went dry and I looked away from him. It was easier to be honest when his eyes weren’t piercing through me. “Maybe.”

There was a pause. It stretched out so long that I dared to peek around at him. He stood there, drink in hand, completely frozen. “Don’t fuck with me. It’s impolite.”

“Impolite?” I repeated, something snapping inside me. “You’re always fucking with me.”

“You wish.” He smirked and lifted his glass to his lips. Wicked Holden was back, his mask carefully drawn once again.

“Why do you do that?” I asked in a quiet voice. “Why do you push people away?”

“People have an annoying tendency to disappoint me.”

“Like Kerrigan,” I guessed.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the issue of her and me. “I suppose.”

It had taken bribery to get him to open up to me before. I had no idea why he was being honest with me now, and too many questions I wanted to ask before he closed himself off again. Before I could stop myself, the question weighing heaviest on my mind spilled out of me. “Why didn’t you go to bed with me?”

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he teased, but his eyes watched me warily.

“Never mind.” It had been stupid to ask. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d rejected me that night? Why did I want to relive it? “Where were you during the funeral?”

“I was in the back.”

“You just abandoned your family,” I accused.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he placed his glass on the table. “And that was a real hardship for them, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not like that—”

“It isn’t?” he cut me off. “Did they run after me? Did any of them come to find me and ask me to come back?”

I forced myself to see it through his eyes. Spencer had gone out of his way to put Holden in his place. That was becoming a theme with the Byrds. We were all puppets and Spencer was our master now. If Holden was conflicted about his grandfather’s death before today, his brother had only made it worse. I couldn’t blame him for being angry. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked bitterly.

“For not standing up for you. For not coming to find you.”

“I don’t blame you. My brother’s leash on you isn’t long enough anyway.”

I flinched, tears smarting my eyes. I tried to turn away before he saw, but he caught sight of my face and his own fell.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t punish me because you’re angry with him,” I demanded.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. He sucked in a deep breath, his chest swelling out. “I didn’t go to bed with you because you didn’t know the truth.”

I swallowed, trying to digest this information, but it sat like a lump in my throat. After a moment, I gathered my courage. “I’m getting a DNA test.”

“That’s wise,” he said thoughtfully.

“You think it will tell me that Tod is telling the truth—that I’m Kerrigan.”

One side of his mouth curved into a sad grin. “I know it will.”

“And then?” My pulse pounded as I stepped closer to him and brushed my hand down his strong bicep. “What will you do if I’m Kerrigan?”