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“One doesn’t need an excuse to stab you with a blunt spoon.”
* * *
“So, this prophecy?”
I roll my eyes, continuing to stir sugar into the black coffee.
“Run it by me word for word.”
“Were you dropped on your head as a baby?” I ask, tossing the teaspoon onto the table. “Because sometimes I do wonder.”
“Rude.”
Somehow, regardless of the lifestyle I’ve led, sitting in a dingy diner down a side street always brings a certain level of calm to me. After the rush of the day, the madness of mad men, and being handed the key to the city, I needed a backstreet, rundown diner to realign my senses.
Then I remember I have Sebastian by my side, and I have to stop and remind myself that while he’s around, chaos will soon ensue.
So, I cave. I give him what he wants—a fairy tale to his deaf ears.
“The prophecy stated that when Nicolas Abernathy dies, his heir–male or female–takes over.”
Why the fuck am I even entertaining this?!
This dickhead knows this fucking story better than anyone else I know.
“Yet, you’re not Nicolas Abernathy’s heir. You’re a son, by proxy.”
“Well done, clever dick,” I applaud, picking up my cup. The heat blissfully warms my palms. “But his heir was a no-show, so by default, what’s hers is now mine.”
Sebastian studies me for a moment, and I allow him, because I know he’s trying to dissect my expressions. Over the years, people have come to realise that my face will say everything Sebastian’s mouth will. He’s loyal to a fault, but his mouth will run him into bigger spots of bother than anything else.
“Did you really think she’d come back?”
I tense at his question, every muscle cording, and I become so rigid I have to steady my breathing to relax. I roll my shoulders and shift in my seat, meeting his gaze across the red tabletop between us.
“Part of me hoped.”
And that part of me only fuelled my mounting anger for her.
“But, also, another part of me hoped she’d cease to exist.”
“Rumour is she’s back in town.” He mutters the statement so casually, shrugging too. “Are you prepared for the storm coming your way if that’s true?”
“I’ve waited seven fucking years to be in the same city as her. If she’s back, I can tell you now, she won’t be ready for it.”
Sebastian suddenly shifts nervously, and I can see the unspoken question he’s waiting to say.
“This goes far beyond love.” My statement is more an observation than an answer to the words he won’t say. “I know everyone always thinks it, and no fucker is brave enough to ask, but it’s the truth. This all goes far beyond love. This isn’t about if I love her or not anymore.”
“So, what is it about?”
Well, it’s looking a little like war.
I laugh mirthlessly. “Seb, you know how business works, and this is why you’re more than a foot soldier to me. I want her found.”
It’s not a request. It’s an ultimatum.
“Beckett…”
