Page 47 of Change
Chapter Nine
Bianca
Crush
A text from Miles woke me up the following morning. The house was quiet and the sun had long-since risen by the time I stumbled out of bed. I quickly realized that no one was present except Titus.
He was sitting in the breakfast nook reading the paper when I dragged myself into the kitchen. I felt slightly better today, and by tomorrow, I’d probably be pain-free entirely. I appreciated that everyone had obviously decided to let me sleep in.
But still…
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I sat at the table across from the dragon. “Where…” I started, but then my attention drifted to the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon being pushed across the table toward me.
“They went out,” Titus answered my unspoken question as he also slid a glass of orange juice beside the plate. I eyed the orange liquid, wishing it was coffee instead. “Drink it anyway,” he commanded, breaking through my disdain.
I looked to him, a shiver shooting down the back of my neck. Was he reading my mind? Not right now, it was too soon. “C-can you…”
“No.” Titus’s forehead wrinkled, and expression dropped slightly. “I can read what you’re thinking on your face. You’re a little bit predictable that way.”
I absolutely was not. To prove him wrong I grabbed the juice, sipping it without complaint while eating the rest of my breakfast.
Meanwhile, Titus outlined the plans for the day. “I’m taking you to work with me.”
I chewed on the bacon, waiting for more, but he didn’t say anything else. He’d picked up the paper and held the coffee back to his mouth before I finally prodded, “And…?”
Titus lowered the cup. “‘And’ what?” His voice was light, and I almost imagined he was teasing me.
“What else are we going to do today?” My thoughts were still safe, and so I let them wander. We were going to Titus’s office, which meant that the mystery might finally be uncovered. Would it be like the movies, where he had a slick modernistic lair and a million resources at his disposal? Would there be multiple TV-sized computers mounted on the walls, face-recognition software, and rows and rows of guns?
I bet there was—his bedroom already carried much of that vibe.
“Probably paperwork.” Titus hummed as his attention drifted to the large window. “A few conference calls. Then lunch.”
“Oh.” I stared at my eggs, suddenly sad. That didn’t sound very fun at all. Would my phone battery survive the day, or should I bring a charger?
“Yeah, the afternoons are better. I can’t kill anyone until after twelve,” Titus replied coolly. “Too much bloodshed in the morning is considered bad luck.”
I blinked, unsure that I’d heard him correctly, before peering at him. “What?”
“What?” he repeated, lightly swirling his coffee cup before taking one last drink, looking as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary at all. “I said that there might be some collection efforts in the afternoon, but I’m not sure. It depends on what Maria has on the schedule.”
No. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he remained unaffected.
That wasn’t what he said at all.
“Get dressed.” Titus inclined his head, clearly referring to my current state of unreadiness. “Once you’re done, we can go.”
I scrambled to my feet, barely pausing to swallow down the two white pills that’d been left beside my plate. I wasn’t about to miss this for the world.
We were on the road less than a half-hour before Titus pulled off the highway, following an off-path—but surprisingly smooth—road that led through the woods. Even though the best of the fall foliage had long since cleared, the vegetation was surprisingly beautiful. I pressed my face against the glass to get a better look.
“Like what you see?” Titus asked lightly.
“Yes.” My breath fogged up the tinted windows, and I pulled my sweater over my wrist, rubbing at the spot. “How are they still colorful right now?”
Titus hummed under his breath before responding. “I wonder.” There was a hint of mystery in his voice—enough to cause me to tear my attention away from the lingering reds and oranges to look at him. The corner of his mouth curled up, but his attention remained on the road. “I enjoy autumn colors and make sure to surround myself with plants that will still bloom later in the season.”
I glanced outside once more. Considering it this way made sense. After all, my element was Wood, which was the representative of spring. And for as long as I could remember, that’d been my favorite season. “So is Metal autumn?”
