Page 78 of Chandelier Sin
“Thanks. Where do you find the time?”
“Henry runs the company now.” He gestured to the chair in the center of his office, inviting me to sit—to be analyzed.
I didn’t move.
“You’ve never visited me here before,” he said. “This leads me to believe you either saw or heard something traumatic.”
“Quite the leap.”
“Well?”
“I’m not here for therapy.”
He arched a brow.
I looked away, taking a sip of the aromatic coffee. “Did your brother create this flavor?” I’d heard the Cole brothers liked to do that.
“Yes.”
“You’re both talented.”
“Atticus, I’m here in whatever capacity you need me.”
“You refuse to back out of the deal then?”
“Why do you want me to? Explain.”
Maybe sitting was a good idea, only not inthatchair. His highbacked armchair would be better, the one opposite. Then again, being analyzed wasn’t what I needed. Emotions should remain buried. I’d survived all this time without cutting open old wounds.
Didn’t need to think of the day when I’d been told the news of my nightmare entrance into the world. How I’d ruined everyone’s life by being born.
“You’ve changed your mind about owning Pendulum?” Cole’s question brought me back to the present.
“No. It’s just become an ethical dilemma.”
“I still believe you have what it takes to turn Pendulum around.”
“I’m going to gut it.”
“This will go better if you’re honest with me.” He shook his head. “You’re wasting my precious time, which is unlike you. You usually get straight to the point.”
I took offense at his tone. “Do you enjoy toying with your victims?”
“Patients?”
“We all know you’re smarter and more sophisticated than the rest of us.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Atti. You’re a skilled surgeon. Patients fly in from all over the world to be operated on by you.” He glanced at my hands with respect.
I weaved my fingers together and stood like that, guarded.
“Want to talk about her?” he said.
I guessed he meant my mother. Or maybe my sister. And the reason I’d inked my hands—so I wouldn’t forget what I’d done, or more specifically what I’d not done. Another blow to my world, only this one was my fault. Even when someone tells youit’s not, the results of failure remain.
Coming here was a mistake.
I wondered again about his writing desk. How heartbreaking it must have been for the creator to let go of such a perfect piece.
