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But Gabriel’s plan to take down the consortium only works if he’s not being hunted by my father. That’ll happen whether he hustles both of us into the SUV or comes inside and argues.
“No, thank you. We’ll be okay.”
His lips press into a thin line, and for a second, I think he might actually refuse to leave. Another glance at the mansion. If looks could start fires, it would be burning already.
Gabriel meets my eyes, and his expression is shuttered. He’s trying to hide his feelings. I get flashes anyway. Anger. Distrust. Hurt. He thinks he’s an asshole, a dangerous prick and nothing else, but he came with me to rescue Lydia last night. An evil man wouldn’t have any reservations about dropping us off.
“If you need anything.” Gabriel clenches his jaw. He looks genuinely pained to be offering this instead of going inside and ruining his own life and probably ours by confronting my father. “If you need anything, you have my number.”
Then he turns on his heel and stalks around the SUV. The door slams.
Lydia slips her hand around my elbow. “Did you guys break up last night?”
The SUV’s pulling away.
“He wasn’t really my boyfriend.”
Lydia tips her head back, her eyes closed. “Elise, why didn’t you say something? I thought you were together.”
“We went on a few dates.”
She opens her eyes and scoffs. “Okay. I saw you at my birthday party.Andwhen he came over for dinner.”
“Lyd.”
“Yeah?”
“We should go inside.”
Her face falls. “I know.”
One of the front doors opens as we climb the steps. I don’t recognize the man in his dark staff uniform. My father doesn’tkeep people around for more than a few years. He nods his greetings to us on the way in, then closes the door behind us.
“Ms. Bettencourt, your parents are waiting in the living room.”
“Thanks, Harry.” Lydia lifts her chin. “We’ll go and talk to them.”
Harry was right. Our parents are in the living room, both of them perched on heavy, ornate chairs near the fireplace. We never played in here as kids. A sitting room upstairs had better light and less oppressive furnishings. The gardens had fresh air. Even the kitchen had plenty of space and pleasant background noise and cooks who didn’t mind if we sat at the table in the corner and did our homework.
My father’s face is red. My mother’s is as pale as Lydia’s.
“Hi, Mom,” Lydia says, breaking the silence. “Hi, Dad.”
His eyes stay on me for several beats longer. His jaw tics. His cheeks darken, trending toward scarlet. My heart thinks it’s too dangerous here to race, but it beats harder.Thud. Thud. Thud.
Then he looks at Lydia.
Damn it.
I’d rather be the one he yells at.
“You went out last night.” It’s flat accusation. “You didn’t tell us where you were going. Your mother went up for the evening and you were gone. Now I see you’ve visited some unsavory place. I assume that’s where the bruise came from.”
Lydia waits. There’s no point in answering until he’s done.
“Well?” This question slithers, snakelike and evil. “What were you thinking, Lydia? We’d love to know what possessed you to go out without permission.”
“I was thinking that I wanted to have fun.”
