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Almost.
“You know the good thing about plans is that, usually, the other willing counterpart has a clue what’s going on.” There’s a roughness in his voice I haven’t heard before. An edge I’ve put there. “Why did you drag me into something like that without making me totally aware?”
“It wasn’t like that…”
“That was rhetorical, Talia,” he bites, his eyes narrowing on me. “I know you’re hellbent on this path of destruction. Hell, I think you were even born on it, but you seem to do what every other fucker in my life does. You forget that I know what this life entails. So, at what point did you think it was okay to treat me with the same kid gloves everyone else does?”
I rock a bit on the spot. His accusation hits me solid, centre mass. I knew Andreas was better than the world we were cursed into, but never did I mistake what he could handle. Only, coming back here, to the palace, to a place I used to call home, was like presenting a part of myself I didn’t want him to see.
“And if I’m just another pawn in this game, don’t expect me to hang around. I’m not about to find out how expendable I am to you.”
As if to add truth to his words, he starts to move away from me and towards the door, hastily taking his exit before he can find out what else I’m capable of.
Selfishly, I can’t let him leave. Not for fear of gaining an enemy, but for fear of losing the only person I’ve had by my side since we found one another only a few years ago.
“Fine! Fine, Andreas. I kept quiet on a lot of the details because I was worried you wouldn’t stay by my side.”
He turns, and his face softens enough to lose the harsh edges my hurt forced upon him.
“I have had enough people turn their back on me, but you seem to always be here. I just thought if you knew what I was up to, it would give you a reason to leave.”
He laughs, mirthlessly and light all at once. “I think you need to realise I’m made of stronger stuff than that,” he replies, but his voice does little to hide the hurt. “You and I… cut from the same cloth, right?”
“Wrong,” I argue on a sigh. “You and I are so different and so wrong.”
Andreas laughs again, shaking his head. “I might be disowned by my family, but I still have the Giannotti blood in my veins. What was so bad you couldn’t trust me with it?”
“It wasn’t about trust,” I argue, my voice tightening. “I did it out of shame.”
He fixes me with a glance, forcing me to own up to my transgressions and place us firmly on the same page.
“Look, something happened years ago. Something that made me the outcast. You don’t become the disgraced daughter of Nicolas Abernathy for nothing.”
“Which is a given with our bloodlines.”
This is why Andreas and I drew closer over the years. He understood the unspoken horrors of our birthrights. We didn’t have to hide or lie because we just knew.
“My dad dying… while it was an end to my tie to him, I was meant to take his place. As the only heir to the name, I was meant to step up and take over.”
“And you couldn’t just tell me that?”
“I was worried that if you knew I was meant to take over my father’s role, you’d run a mile. I mean, isn’t that what you’re about? Putting miles between you and your father’s name?”
I grace him with a sad smile. My anger is still burning. He’ll never understand how hot it is until I’m ready to rain down hell, but I’m not ashamed of giving him the softer side of me.
“Today was meant to be the day I took over.”
“But that guy shaking all the hands got there first?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“He something special to you?”
I grin wickedly as the answer tantalises my tongue. It’s as if any maudlin emotion dies as he asks the golden question.
“Oh, Andreas. You have no idea.”
With a pointed look, he raises an eyebrow, questioning my motives as they start to wake. I know now he’ll never guess the truth.
