Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“Your grandson is a man of courage and heart,” Theo continued with zero fear. “I’m grateful for his assistance. You should feel lucky to have him in your family—in no situation is it acceptable to question his independence or will.”
Oh. My. God. Theo!
Arwen was never going to forgive himself for letting her walk into this unprepared.
Viktor’s eyes turned into narrow green windows. “You remind me of someone, Theo,” he said after a long pause. “My mama. She also had a way of telling me I was talking bullshit in an extremely polite tone of voice.”
Yakov, who’d taken a sip of water, almost spit it out. His grinning father slammed a fist helpfully on his back. Mila, on the other hand, reached over and poured Theo a glass of the nutrients they’d ordered as part of the drinks order for the table.
And Arwen finally breathed long enough to catch the emotions being broadcast . . . and realized that Theo had just won the respect of the patriarch of this family.
Pavel squeezed Arwen’s thigh under the table, shooting sensation electric and exciting right to his cock. He blushed, still not used to thinking in such raw terms. But Pavel’s words, when they came, were teasing and tender rather than sensual. “See, Arlusha moy,” he murmured, “Theo’s fine. You can strike her off your ‘watch over and worry’ list.”
Arwen made a face at him. “What if I can’t help it?” Worrying about the people who mattered to him was second nature—and for some reason, Theo Marshall, of all people, had made it onto his list.
It was the bruises, he thought, the ones she hid from all the world.
Pavel dropped a kiss on his ear, and Arwen could feel the heat of it going pink. “I know you can’t help it,” his bear murmured. “Your heart is huge and open and quite frankly”—a scowl—“gives me anxiety. I’m forever worrying about how thin you’ll spread yourself if you’re not careful.”
Reaching for his beer, he threw back half of it in a gulp before slamming it down on the table and meeting Arwen’s gaze again, his own the primal hue of his bear. “But I’m more than up for a lifetime of anxiety if I get to spend it with you.”
Chapter 53
I need your help to make this work, big brother. Being Silent this way . . . it’s hard. But I have to try. We all have to try. For Neiza.
I thought moving away from Mom and Dad and our younger brothers, as well as you and Marian, would make it easier, but it’s still so difficult even though Kanoa’s extended family pulled strings to make sure Neiza and I were in the first intake of Mercury’s Fundamentals of Silence Parent/Child course.
The Adelajas have been truly amazing in their support. You know how important they are, how much Catherine and Arif Adelaja contributed to the development of Silence. I never expected the family to offer such support to the widow of a second cousin who wasn’t part of their inner circle. But they’ve embraced me—and especially Neiza.
In fact, the family has invited me to move into their compound.
They’ve lived life in Silence (as it is now) long before the referendum made it mandatory, and as such are far further along in their adherence to the Protocol. It’s an extraordinary opportunity for Neiza and since my work can be done remotely, I’m going to take them up on the invitation.
This is where I need your help, D. Please don’t call me, or send me any letters touched with emotion. Articles of interest, subjects we can argue about with pure logic, health updates stripped down to the medical basics, that’s all I can handle as I settle into this new way of life.
Thank you from your younger sibling,
Hien
—Letter from Hien Nguyen to Déwei Nguyen (9 June 1980)
THEO HAD NEVER been around a family this loud and affectionate. This open to life. They all seemed to know what was going on with the others, multiple overlapping conversations taking place at once. Not only that, but they kept moving around the table—though Yakov never left her side, some part of his body always in contact with her own.
More movement. Now it was Yakov’s delicately lovely babushka Quyen who sat at the end of the table, at a right angle from Theo. The quietest member of the family gave her a gentle smile, her uptilted eyes a kind hazel with greenish edges and her hair cut in a stylish bob. The strands were a silky and heavy brown with gold highlights. The kind of hair that fell back into place after being mussed up.
Just like Yakov’s.
How extraordinary, Theo thought, to sit at this table and see so many of the people from whom Yakov and his brother had inherited pieces of their genetic makeup. Nothing cold or remote about it, DNA only a small part of the tapestry of their shared history.