Page 166 of Auctioned

Practicing the art of killing a person.

Going over my old cases and other law textbooks.

Listening to me. Telling me about herself. Whether it was late at night or just before sunrise, we’d talk. I couldn’t stop listening to her and drawing out stories about her parents. About the few childhood friends she almost forgot about. The foster parents who showed her kindness.

She’d tell me she loved learning from me.

That she loved me, period.

It was still strange, yet I never rejected the words.

Like I never rejected her attempts to cook for me.

I ate everything that came out of her hands. Praised her for all of it. The cereal and the burned or raw steaks. Salads, she was good at mixing those.

Other times, she let me cook for her.

It was the best holiday of my life.

Even Topher hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the mansion. He reported to me that he was hunting for a woman to breed. I assumed it was a lie. Two investigators had taken turns watching him, proving me right.

He hadn’t been hunting for a new woman. He’d been out there, asking people about Ophelia.

I’ve been keeping that part from her.

He’s my responsibility, and I’ll handle him accordingly. One way or the other.

There’s just one minor bump in the road.

My PI, who regularly checks my phone, found a bug and removed it.

Oliver isn’t as rash and weak as his son. Topher had been monitored the entire time.

It couldn’t be anyone except Oliver.

Who’s here, playing this redundant cat-and-mouse game.

One he’s losing.

“Can it wait?” I rise out of my chair, buttoning up my suit jacket. Charcoal today, Ophelia’s favorite. Oliver wears a similar one in a lighter shade of gray. “We’re headed to court.”

Topher and Camden will be tagging along to observe. Their presence isn’t required. Neither of them will live to become lawyers.

But optics matter.

Optics are everything.

“Right. Right.” Oliver laughs, and it’s fake. He shakes his head. Another warm, phony gesture. “How could I forget about the Irish? Camden won’t shut up about it. He’s been over the moon about his uncle taking him to court.”

Now Iknowhe’s fucking with me.

I’ve never been an uncle figure to Camden. Hardly even been a father to Topher.

Being warm and fluffy, I don’t have that in me.

Or so I thought.

Ophelia says I do. She thanks me for being kind and for tucking her to my side when we go to bed. When I flatten my palm on the place where I branded her. Even though it’s healed, it hurts her a little.

---