How dare he!
Anger burns through me, eradicating the chill, and I have to bunch my hands at my sides to keep from throttling him with my frustration.
Softening, his face relaxes a bit as he bends down to gather the rest of the papers on the floor and my bag. He does it quickly and effortlessly as I continue watching him, trying to determine what his attitude means and how it affects me.
He’s been an A-hole. Fleur’s words hiss in my ears, but my curiosity and intrigue get the better of me. Yeah, I’m pissed at him, but I’m also desperate to know who he is and why he turns me inside out the way he does. Why he’s acting like he owns me.
My stomach tightens at that thought. Something inside me stirring wildly as I take in the way his fingers curl around Fleur’s sketches, and I can’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like directly on my skin.
Our gazes clash and as he stands, the softness in his disappears, setting his eyes into a deep, confused furrow.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I have no idea what he means by that. This is an open place of worship and he has no right to tell me whether I should be here or not.
“Why?” A laugh rips out of my mouth, but it sounds manic even to me.
“Because.”
“Oooookay, listen up, twat face! I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t own—” Fleur’s words dry up as she looks towards the creaking doors again.
When I follow her line of sight, I do a double take before confusion sets in and mixes with my already puzzled thoughts.
My father, Christopher and Freddie are standing at the top of the aisle, the three of them look about ready to blow a fuse. Christopher’s dark grey suit jacket is gone, his sleeves are rolled up his forearms and as his eyes meet mine, he shakes his head.
&nb
sp; I have no idea if it’s disappointment or frustration, whatever it is, I don’t like it. Slapping his back, Freddie winks at me with a crooked smile. Nothing fazes him, and although normally his nonchalance brings me ease, it does nothing but make my gut twist a bit more as he heads to the other side of the church.
What’s going on?
Father Byrne has the man, I assume came in earlier, up against one of the pillars. I have to do a double take because he’s got him nailed to the stone, the muzzle of a sleek looking pistol pressed to his chest.
“What. The. Fuck?” Fleur breathes out, her words mirroring my thoughts.
Dad says something to Christopher when he starts towards us, and with a scowl at me he joins the priest and our cousin.
The atmosphere cools and even the light seems to dim. The red accents darken to a sinister shade with the shadow, and the creamy stone pales to morbid grey.
“I take it back.” Fleur murmurs, taking a step back. “We should go.”
Ignoring her remark, I follow the priest to the doors of the church with my eyes before Dad stands in front of us.
“Fleur,” he sighs with exasperation.
“Francis.”
Trying to ignore the glare he’s giving us, I watch as Father Byrne locks the doors and then bolts them with the old brass bars at the top and bottom. The larger one across the middle requires more effort, but he does it also.
“What are you doing here?” My father moves to block my view of the priest and for a moment I can’t get anything out.
“I…I…”
“What, Cassandra?” He’s upset, and his soft, low tone does nothing to hide the fact. “I’ve tried everything to keep you safe.”
His head is shaking and admittedly it takes me a while to get my head around his statement.
To keep me safe?