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I didn’t argue, although I could.
“This life you had.” Fay paused as my eyes narrowed. “From what you said before, you seemed to have a good one. Tell me about yourself.”
“Good?” I laughed. “Depends what you mean by that. If we’re speaking materially, then yes. Personally, not so well. I grew up here. I had my own personal guard. My own staff to attend to whatever I needed. I had my grandfather to tell me what to think. Apparently, my own thoughts weren’t good enough. I was either in schools or locked down here. It’s not safe out there,” I waved, dramatically. “People know us. Some don’t like us. Others want to hurt us. Then, there’s the random psycho that might try to kidnap me for ransom. I heard that once when I asked if I could go to a friend’s house. There were always excuses. Always reasons why I couldn’t be normal.”
“Other than that, Fay, there’s not much to tell. I grew up. I worked a lot. I bought some nice stuff for when I didn’t. I love cars. Correction.” I found myself smiling. “I love fast cars. The faster the better. It’s not just the speed. It’s the quality. It’s the time taken to create them. Design them. It’s an art, really. Most people wouldn’t understand.”
“I guess not.”
“It’s fascinating when you break it all down. Do you drive?”
“Yeah, but it’s nothing special. It’s just a car.”
“You may be surprised. Lay it on. What do you got? What type?”
Fayette paused. “A sedan.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Year?”
“I don’t know. It’s like almost half my age. Fifteen, twelve, maybe?”
“Years?”
“Yes, Aimon.” Again, she laughed, but harder this time. “It’s about fifteen years old, give or take.”
“Well, I’m thirty-six. No way you’re thirty.”
“Twenty-six.”
“That sounds right. Tell me about this car of yours. This…antique.”
“Be nice. It’s aged. Broken in, and.” She stopped, her mouth twisting. “It’s absolutely horrible and covered in rust. The backseat has a big burn from my college friend’s cigarette she tried throwing out the window when she saw my parents. My guess is it’s probably towed by now. I left it close to the city because it wouldn’t start.” Her smile fell, masked by something I knew wasn’t good. “I took a cab to my parents. We were supposed to have dinner together that night. My father said he wanted to talk to me about something. I was late. Really, really late because of that stupid car. If it had started…maybe—”
“No.” My head shook. “Don’t do that.”
“What if I would have left early? Got there before they went to the store. Maybe.” She stopped, swallowing back the emotion.
“You may have been in the car with them, Fay. You couldn’t have prevented what happened. I questioned everything when my own parents died. What if I would have gone. What if I wasn’t away at school? We can’t change the past.”
“But can we live with it?”
Her head lowered as I forced my hand over to grab one of hers. Fuck thinking about the past. What about the future? Could I live with the repercussions? Could I live with having a child with Fay? I studied the woman before me. Not the one who acted out in desperation for her mother. Not even the one who was the daughter of the man who helped shape my life. I looked at Fay as her own person. As someone who just lost her parents. As a woman who was afraid and locked in a huge home with strangers. Isolated from almost everyone but me. And she’d never leave here. Not while Charles was alive. Maybe she wouldn’t even want to after he finished feeding her reasons. Where would she go? What would she do, all alone? There wasn’t much of a fight in her. But really, what did she have left to fight for? She was broken. Broken in ways I wasn’t. But she was strong. It was there, I’d seen it. And it would come back. Maybe with a vengeance. What, then? Would it be used for me, or against me?
Chapter 9
Fay
Beard or no beard? The answer was one I couldn’t decide. Watching Aimon with his days of growth, I could almost imagine how he’d look with a full-blown beard. It was nice. Different on his too-handsome face, but…rugged, which I liked. Dammit, I shouldn’t have been thinking this. I shouldn’t even be looking at him. I had to figure out what I was going to do. I had so many questions, and even more reasons to run. But to where? To what? The only link to my past was within these walls. It was these men. All of them.
“Do I have something on my face? You keep doing that, Fay. You’re thinking something.”
My gaze dropped to my plate. The last thing he needed to know was that I was checking him out. We were barely getting along as it was. World War Three would have been less explosive than our argument over food. Aimon and I just weren’t on the same page when it came to the treatment of others. I didn’t want to give the cooks extra work by choosing something outside of the menu. He said that’s why they got paid so well. Maybe. I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t like him. I was content to eat whatever they served. After all, it’s not like I was the one paying for it.
“Fay?”
I sighed at the way he barked my name.
“I was thinking of asking for more books. I finished the two they already sent.”
