His body was eventually returned to us and buried in a small sarcophagus down in the catacombs. It’s a place I can’t bring myself to visit. Not for a while.
“It was an accident. That’s all. An oversight,” my father says, sitting in his chair across from me, Amelia, and Mayor Boyd. “No one is really at fault here.”
At my father’s words, I lift my gaze from the condensation trickling down the glass of water that I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. “He got his hands on her fucking pills. How is she not at fault?”
“I have told you repeatedly, Lucian.” Amelia’s voice has grown weaker, more fragile than before. “I would never--”
“But you did.” My jaw remains stiff, with more titanium in my face than a Russian submarine. “And now he’s dead.”
“And you’ll just keep punishing and punishing me and punishing me,” she whispers.
“All right, all right.” My father waves his hands in the air, the tone of his voice laced with irritation. “Enough of this bickering like children. We have a much bigger issue to contend with, which is what to tell the media. They’ve been all over us since Lucian’s little circus sideshow.”
“Sideshow? Look at me. Can you even look at me?” I tip my head to catch his gaze, a zap of electricity striking my skull as I grind my teeth. “This is what you wanted of me, remember? To be a father. A fucking monster, like you.”
“Careful, boy. Now’s not the time. The point of this meeting is to discuss next steps. If word gets out that Amelia’s pills were the cause of his death, she’ll be strung up like a Salem witch by this town. It’ll be bad for her, for Mayor Boyd, and for us. Everyone who had contact with Roark that night, down to the goddamn dispatcher who took the call, has been informed to remain quiet.”
In other words, threatened to be buried six feet under. The beauty of money and power.
“You think you can keep this from getting out? Someone is going to talk. They’re going to slip.” In spite of the pain, I steal the opportunity to chuckle. “I hope they do.”
“And we’ll address it when the time comes. For now, we’re going to inform the media that Roark has gone missing.”
“I’m not lying to the media about what happened to my son.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be speaking on behalf of his distraught and grieving parents. There will be a reward for anyone who has information about him. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and play along. Sheriff Townsend has agreed to do the same.”
Of course he has. He’s one of my father’s little cult buddies, and will, without question, take the secret to his grave. They all will, because that’s the Blackthorne curse. That’s what’s earned us the reputation of crossing paths with a black cat. That’s why no one will dare dispute a word of this, and Roark’s death will forever remain a mystery.
I turn my gaze away from my father, from Amelia, and Mayor Boyd. “This is wrong.”
“Welcome to the world of power, my boy.”
Chapter 47
Isadora
Present day …
Freshly showered, Lucian exits the bathroom, wearing only a towel wrapped around his lower half, the perfect V disappearing into the crisp white fabric. He leans in to kiss me, where I lay on the bed, having left the shower ahead of him. This is the moment I’ve dreaded. When we part ways and the awkwardness settles between us. I almost wish he’d been a dick afterward and ditched me last night, because at least then I’d be familiar with this. I’d know what to expect between us.
“You’re welcome to stay here today, if you’d like,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “No sense packing up, just to turn around and come back.”
The idea of staying seems even more awkward, especially when I haven’t figured out if this was just a onetime thing between us. A weekend of sex, and we’ll be back to boss and employee come tomorrow, when the work week starts over. “I can’t. I have to run a quick errand in town, and I told my aunt I’d have lunch at The Shoal.”
“I see.” The disappointment in his voice almost sounds as if he’d prefer that I stay. “I guess I’ll see you when you get back, then.”
“You could come with me.” I flinch as the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Again.
Especially when the expression on his face is what I’d expect if I’d just eaten a bowl full of maggots in front of him.
“Have you seen the crosses along the road? They call me the devil, in case you’ve forgotten. The mere sight of me will have them all believing the apocalypse has arrived.”
The thought of such a thing brings a smile to my face. What I wouldn’t give … “I don’t blame you. They treat me like shit, too.” With a sigh, I sit up on the bed, holding the crumpled sheet to my breast, and glance around the room. “If I lived here, I probably wouldn’t want to leave, either.”
“They treat you like shit, too. Why?”
Shrugging, I pull my knees up to my chest. “Because of my mom, mostly. I guess I inherited her reputation.”
“Isn’t that always the case.” It’s not a question, and there’s a kindred spark behind his eyes as he studies me.
“It was really bad, my first couple years of high school. The other kids and their parents, teachers, they all treated me like I was some kind of plague.” Memories of my first day filter in, when I sat eating lunch under the staircase, just looking for a place to breathe. “It gets easier after a while. Almost like their hate becomes part of your skin.” I run my finger over the tiny ridges of scars along my forearm. “Surface. As long as it stays on the surface, it can’t touch who you are inside.”
“On second thought, I would like to accompany you today.”
A zap of surprise washes over me with his sudden change of heart. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll drive.”
Expecting to see Lucian dress casual is like expecting a star to be less brilliant. No matter what he’s wearing, he always looks like a million bucks.
As he takes my hand, leading me down a hallway I haven’t yet ventured into, wearing a short-sleeve, black button-down and dark jeans, I have to remind myself not to stare at his ass the whole time. It’s uncanny to me, the way the man can fill a pair of denim with the same ruthless sex appeal as when he’s dressed in one of his sharp suits.
A delicious orange sandalwood scent trails after him, watering my mouth, as I follow behind.
The hallway ends at a door, which Lucian opens before flipping a switch on the wall beside him. Lights flicker on, illuminating what reminds me of an airplane hangar, as enormous as the room is, with high ceilings and massive shelves storing two wrapped boats. On the open floor of the place are rows of vehicles, maybe two dozen. Luxury, compact, sport. Various colors and sizes, makes and models.
“Oh, my God,” is all I can muster, as I scan the room.
“I like cars.” He takes the lead once again, toward a sleek, black contraption that looks like something Batman would drive. Specks of light from above dot the polished black exterior like stars across the night sky--fitting for Lucian.