Page 25 of Point of No Return

I can feel Charlotte’s gaze burning into me, but I don’t look away from Tyson. Not when it comes to this. He clears his throat, hand clenching the head of his cane. “You know how important it is to keep up appearances.”

“She’s not going.” I repeat, and this time, I feel Charlotte’s hand squeezing my arm.

Tyson says nothing. His eyes merely narrow, his hand flexing as if considering using his fists to teach me a lesson. I practically dare him. I don’t give a damn if Charlotte’s here to see it. My father isn’t in the position to put his hands on anyone. Not anymore.

“The rehearsal dinner is coming up soon. Then the interview with the magazine. The investors will find out soon enough,” Tyson gives a self-satisfied grin as he looks at me again. “We’ll just propose another meeting. On your terms, of course.”

What the hell is he planning?

I want to object, but Charlotte intervenes before I can. “Skar and I know how important this union is. I assure you…” she squeezes my arm for emphasis. “You have nothing to worry about.” A few servants move to clear her plate as she stands.

She surprises me when her hands land on the tense muscles of my shoulders, squeezing gently. Her lips brush my ear as she whispers, “See you at dinner.”

And god dammit, she follows my lead like a pro.

The look on my father’s face is pure gold. She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave, and then she’s gone. Then it’s just me and the man I still have trouble believing I’m related to. I stare, resting my chin on a fist.

He’s no longer smiling, and I can tell from the way he carries himself that he’s angry. I simply quit caring a long time ago.

“You’re planning something,” I state. “What?”

Tyson shrugs. “This will be the wedding of the century. There’s much left to do.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

He coughs a laugh into his fist, his voice gravelly when he finally acknowledges me again. “It looks like you’re playing your part quite well, son. A littletoowell.”

He’s antagonizing me- playing friendly with her was never part of the plan.

Marry her. Guarantee her cooperation. But don’t get too close. If only it were that simple.

Getting close to her interferes with whatever he has planned. I just can’t see how.

“You can find another way to secure your funding.”

His mouth curves upwards. “Be careful, boy. You seem to forget her history.” I know without him having to say that he’s talking about my mother, and my temper burns white-hot.

The memory of my mother is still clear as day. Light eyes vacant, skin pale, blood staining her temple. I was little more than a teenager when I found her in the study. She sat upright in the chair behind the office desk, but her hands hung limp over the arms of the chair. Her blood was a pool on the marble floor, and more of it was spread across her face in a broken smile. And on her wrists like shackles were slits that could only be made with the thinnest of blades.

I can still smell the tang of iron in the air- can practically taste the fear, the hatred I felt in my throat. The police never technically found any leads. But my mother’s murder could only have been at the hands of a few: skilled killers. Practiced but lazy and careless. They wanted us to find her. They wanted us to know exactly who killed her. She paid the final price for my father’s sins. Yet years later, I’m left to pay for the rest of them- day by day for the rest of my life.

I stand slowly, the memory fading as I stalk toward my father. I stop a couple of feet away. The smell of rot is heavy on his breath, and something morbid settles in my gut at the knowledge that it won’t be long before he joins my mother, six feet under.

But being buried next to her? The thought makes the rage burn hotter.

As if he ever deserved her.

I rest my fist on the counter in front of him. “I don’t know what the hell you’re planning. But I do know who I’m getting into bed with. Doyou?”

Tyson turns his head up at the question, contempt clear on his face. “Blood is thicker than water, boy. Married or not, she will never be one of us.”

Then why marry her?I want to ask but I know better than to ask stupid questions. Questions won’t change whatever plan he already has in motion. It won’t change the fact that in a few short weeks, Charlotte will have my name, my vow, and my ring on her finger. More than anything else, it angers me that my father is right.

After what they did to my mother, I doubt I’ll ever be able to forgive the past. He knows it. I know it. And even if Charlotte never knows the truth about the blight between our people, deep down, she knows our future can’t change the mistakes of the past.

Blood runs deep. The scars of the past have always cut deeper.

Chapter Fourteen

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