Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“It will this time.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I feel it. I need you to trust me, that’s all.”
“You’re asking for the impossible. Why not request the moon while you’re at it?”
Sudden heat rises in my chest, and a ringing noise fills my ears. There is nothing in this world as frustrating as my brother when he gets a hair up his ass. If he’s trying to piss me off and force me to lose my temper, he’s doing a damn good job of it. “That’s all I can say. I did what I felt was best.”
He takes a deep breath that’s probably supposed to calm him down the way I fought to calm myself. “Very well,” he murmurs in a deceptively soft tone that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. “You did what you felt was best, which is exactly what I have to do now.”
I knew it. There had to be more. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m not sure what to believe, so you’ve left me with no choice but to assign a guardian.”
“What?” I shouldn’t react so strongly, but there’s no pretending to go along with this idea. I throw my hands into the air with a weary sigh. “Come on. I’m here. In the hotel. You’re aware of everything I do here.”
“No, I’m not,” he reminds me with a bitter snarl. “You made sure of that. If you think I’m stupid, you’d better rid yourself of the idea and now. I can’t trust you. It’s as simple as that.”
“I won’t try to run away.”
“And I should trust you, why? If you can’t trust me enough to open up so we can work this out together, I can’t trust you to stay put. And I’m a little too busy to spend my days watching your every move. So, somebody will do it for me.”
“Who did you have in mind?” Not like I don’t know the answer. I understand the way his brain works. There are only a few people he’d really trust, and he sent two of them to fetch me and bring me back. No doubt he’s chosen one or another to babysit me.
Sure enough, he replies, “Dallas. I need Griffin for a mission, but Dallas is more than happy to hang around and make sure you’re a good girl and do as you’re told.”
See, I would’ve been pissed off without him adding that extra bit, and of course, he knows it. Siblings understand how to get under each other’s skin better than anybody else. As much as I hate admitting he’s been successful, I can’t help but slap my palms against the table in frustration. “I don’t need him hovering over me. I don’t need anybody to do that.”
“And that’s your final say?”
“Damn right, it is.”
“Very well.” He pushes his chair back and stands, and the snide grin he wears tells me I haven’t won this battle before he opens his mouth to confirm it. “Then you can make yourself at home in the holding cells.”
Surprise leaves me sputtering. “You’re joking.”
“Do I joke? Am I known for my sense of humor?”
“I’m not going to the cells!”
“That’s your opinion. In my opinion, you are, or you’re more than welcome to stay in your apartment and be as comfortable as you wish. But you will not be there alone. End of story. This is not a negotiation.”
I could claw his eyes out for looking at me that way, for sounding so smug and sure of himself. “You’re not being fair.”
“Oh? Because you were so fair by running off the way you did? Do you have the first idea of the impact it had? Do you know how worried we all were? Yet you sit here,” he sneers, waving his hand at me, “acting like you are the one who’s been through the wringer. Never mind the people who care about you. Never mind your own brother. I’m not going through that again. I can tell you that much.”
“Nobody asked you to,” I snap.
He rocks back on his heels but accepts this quietly. “Nobody had to,” he finally points out with a sigh. “You’re free to go back to your apartment now. Dallas should be waiting for you.”
What I hate most of all as I sit here, having my life decided for me, is how certain he sounds. So sure of himself. So convinced he’s doing the right thing. He doesn’t have the first clue.
And is that his fault? The question rings out in my head as I push my chair back and stand with my chin lifted and my shoulders thrown back. I can at least show a little dignity, even if I’m being pushed around.
Inside, though? That’s another story. My blood is boiling, and I can barely see straight for the helpless rage clawing me to pieces inside. I won’t let him see it. I will not lower myself that way.