Page 123 of Blood and Thorns
“Your head’s not in it. You’re distracted.” A smile curved his lips, but the flatness never quite left his eyes. “I can tell you miss your dad. You say as such in your writing.”
I paused, the piece I held hanging above the board. “Wait, you found my notebook?”
Without dropping eye contact, Chip reached into his backpack, pulling out the exact notebook I’d been searching for. “You’ve got an interesting writing style,” he said, voice low but playful. “But pouring your emotions onto the page like that? Dangerous. Especially in the wrong hands.”
I reached for it instinctively, but Chip stood, lifting it just out of reach. “Seriously, Chip. Give it back.”
He raised a brow. “What’s the big deal, Ara? It’s just a notebook.”
“Then why did you take it?”
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, seemingly amused with my response. “It must’ve ended up in the paperwork I was sorting. I didn’t realise what it was until I got home. I didn’t mean to upset you, and I’ve already replaced it with a new one.”
He’d brought me a new notebook a few days ago, and I’d accepted that one of the cleaners must have tossed my old one. “I didn’t want anyone else to read it,” I mumbled.
“I can see why; your fixation over MrDevereaux is a little uncomfortable. You want to tell me why the character I assume is supposed to behim is coming across as the hero?” He waited eagerly for my answer, as if we were still playing chess and he couldn’t make his move until I made mine.
“I’m not writing about Sebastian,” I defended, eventhough it was completely a lie, one that felt sour on my tongue. “They’re entirely fictional characters. Now give it back.”
Chip snorted, holding the book higher. “I’m a little disappointed that I’m not mentioned. I thought we were friends?”
“Chip…”
“Even if you don’t want to admit it out loud, you miss your dad.” He threw me the book, and I scrambled to catch it. Some of the pages tore, and many became crumpled. “He misses you too, you know. He told me so yesterday.”
“You went to see him?” I touched my words on the page, my voice dropping to an irritated whisper. “Why?”
“You never told me to stop. You know I’ve been visiting him for weeks, making sure he’s eating and paying his bills.” Chip’s face sobered, his tone gentle. “I know how much you care for him, even if he doesn’t deserve it. But I think you should speak to him. Let him explain.”
“Explain what?” I was frustrated with the tears that threatened to spill. “You know what he tried to do.”
“I know.” Chip still stood, his height forcing me to look up. “He told me everything, how he became addicted to the high risk of gambling, the money on his big wins, and how he was a terrible father.”
I clenched my teeth, my breath seeming to get caught in my chest. Chip noticed, crossing around the table to pull me against him.
“He’s still your father, and he’s asking you for forgiveness,” he whispered against my hair, his arms wrapping around me in a hug. “To be the bigger person.”
“Why are you saying this?” I asked, blinking away those bloody tears.
“Because I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I nodded, more to buy myself time than anything else. Just one moment to think. Dad was like a sword hanging above me, a pendulum just waiting for the right time to strike. If I didn’t speak to him, there was a chance he would never stop.
Chapter 55
Sebastian
With my mask in place, I watched from the head of the table, the atmosphere in the room apprehensive as everyone felt the strain beneath my attention.
“Honestly, is this meeting really appropriate?” my uncle demanded, eyeing the rest of the table with the snobbery of someone brought up with a silver spoon. “It could’ve been a phone call.”
Caden shot Alexander a glare, father and son holding identical expressions before Alexander finally settled grumpily into his seat.
Feng Zhao sat in the place his mother would usually sit, his grandson sitting beside him despite the burns that marked his flesh. They’d already nodded in my direction, and I’d already given my condolences to the loss of their matriarch.
The other managers of my distribution were here too, as well as a few of the more profound dealers that catered to certain high-end demographics. They held the highest hierarchy in the separate branches of my empire, employing many below them. They were men and woman I’d workedwith for years, gaining trust and a mutual respect in an industry that promoted corruption.
Any one of them could be the snake, which just meant I’d been too lenient. Maybe I needed to remind them exactly why I held the largest and most successful cocaine trade on the entire continent.
