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He was my consequence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Holy shit.
He loved me.
The thought didn’t hit until two days later. I was lounging in the sunroom, trying to do another Sudoku, when it rushed to the forefront of my mind. I was wondering why he’d been around the last two days, making me eat three meals a day, correcting my posture and telling me which silverware to use.
He also expected me to be in fancy dresses and slutty heels all the time. And there was no lounging comfortably in those outfits. I wondered if he had just said it to pull me further under his deceitful spell.
He hadn’t said anything else about it, and he wasn’t acting any different towards me. He was still being a pompous ass and burying himself inside me whenever he felt like it.
I was hung up on the fact that it was supposed to be me who died that night. It was supposed to be my neck that was slit from ear to ear, and not my sister’s. Did he know Cassie was going to die? He made it seem like he did. If Pierce didn’t have the communication skills of a caveman, we might actually get somewhere.
Sighing, I scrubbed my hands over my face and looked out the windows.
“Rebel.” Pierce walked into the room carrying a glass of iced tea. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking a healthy swig.
“What?” I lowered the glass, eyeing him the same way he was eyeing me.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Right,” I scoffed.
“Why do you think otherwise?” He looked at me like he already knew the answer. I looked away, not able to admit it aloud, and certainly not able to talk about it with him. I thought I was over what Richard had done to me and the sick way he’d ruined my body.
Somehow finding out he was my uncle and not some random man my mom decided to marry made it worse. It nauseated me, bringing back memories I thought were burned from my brain.
“Your mother loved you,” he started. I went to object, but he cut me off and kept going, taking a seat on the wicker sofa. “In this life, it’s not unusual for men to be away, working long hours, sometimes being gone for a day or two. When we come home, I guess the notion of a family gives us something to look forward to. Your father went back and found your mom fucking his brother.”
I already knew my mother was a whore, but I kept quiet and let him continue.
“My mother was a sweet woman. She raised two boys and cared for my dad’s bastard—my baby sister—as her own. She wasn’t meant for this life. I loved her, but fuck, was she weak. And everyone knew it. Dear old Dad no longer hid his affairs, disrespecting her whenever he had the chance. Imagine how surprised he was when he came home to your father fucking my mother in their bed.” He paused, staring out the windows as if picturing the scene in front of him.
An ice cube lodged in my throat, I remained mute, taking it all in. With just that bit of information, I began to have a semblance of understanding as to what had happened. I waited for him to continue, needed him to.
“Our mothers were best friends, our fathers as close as two men dare to get in this life. It all had a domino effect. My dad let yours live but only because he had a bigger plan: to take everything Lou had. Clients, money, and his daughter.” He gave me a pointed look. “That fell apart, too. I remember in the middle of the night, he said he needed me. There was a woman down on her knees, crying and beaten. He told me to put a bullet in the back of her head. I didn’t question him. I just did it.
I had plans of my own to knock my father down a few pegs.”
“And you were going to use Cassie,” I added absentmindedly.
“At first. Then, I got to know her. The sober her. The night she died, I got a call. See, no one even knew about you until you got a little older. Your mother had hidden you away. My father started sleeping with her and found out who you were, and began paying her to sleep with Richard to get information on your dad. It was a ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ kind of thing. He told me everything, thinking he could trust me.”
“And you cut his heart out, so clearly that was a bad idea. What does any of this have to do with me?” Setting my glass on the side table, I looked to him for the remaining answers.
