“What the hell happened in here?” Z gestured to the lamp tossed on the floor.
“I tried to bash his head in.”
Their faces showed surprise and then they burst out laughing. Mian flinched, and quickly, her entire body stiffened when Lucas said, “Damn, girl. I bet you’re a firecracker in the sack.”
“You’ll never know.”
“You know better than to make promises you can’t keep,” he flirted.
She scoffed and turned away, but her entire body flushed red. She should have learned she couldn’t hide from us when she was naked. Lucas and Z snickered while I stood from the bed. “Return our guest to her room. She’s overstayed her welcome here.”* * *I had toforce last night and this morning from my head. Having her sleep so close to me was an amazing test of control that I passed until this morning.
Now, I stood with Lucas and Z in one of the guest rooms surrounding the girl we took from her bed while she was sleeping.
“So how do you know Mian?”
“I told you we’re friends.”
“And neighbors,” I added.
“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes but then sat up straight at the look in mine. “Why am I here?”
“You’re here because of Mian. She took something from me, and I intend to get it back.”
“Mian wouldn’t do that.”
“Apparently, she would, or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“What does this have to do with me?” She flinched, and I could tell by the regret in her eyes that she felt guilty.
“You’re incentive.”
“For what?”
“To give me back what belongs to me.”
“And what belongs to you?” she asked warily.
“My legacy.” I could see her confusion but didn’t bother to elaborate. The fewer people who knew about the book, the better. Those pages were power and the only rightful heir to that power was me.
“So what will you do with me?”
“In due time.”
“And until then?”
I looked to Lucas and nodded. He left and came back moments later carrying Caylen. She didn’t hesitate to rush forward and to take him carefully from Lucas’sarms.
“Why do you have him?” she cried and clutched Caylen closer. She backed away while her frantic gaze moved between us, probably to determine the most dangerous threat.
Lucas swore. “How old is this girl? She barely looks old enough to take care of herself.”
“He’s right,” Z added. “I don’t think we should trust her with him. She’ll run first chance she gets. Mian did.”
I stared at Mian’s friend and weighed my options. The kid had been fussy the past few days even though he’d been kept warm, fed, and clothed. The thought that maybe he missed his mother entered my mind, so I set him up in a temporary room in the west wing with Mian. I knew she could hear his cries when she began beating at the door and walls and yelling threats. I had no doubt he was the reason she pulled her little escape attempt.
Lucas stared hard at the girl until she began to fidget. “What do you think, little one? You gonna run?”
“Probably,” she answered honestly.
“Even if it means he’ll slit your friend’s throat the moment you do?” She gasped, took another step back, and pulled Caylen closer to her chest.
Her frightened eyes turned to me. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” Fuck… How oldwasthis girl? Innocence was written all over her.
I took a step toward her. “Do you really want to find out?” Her blonde locks tossed about as she vigorously shook her head. “Then we have an arrangement?”
“Yes,” she replied instantly.
My gaze narrowed as I inspected her. “How old are you?”
She glanced in Z’s direction before moving to Lucas. Her gaze rested on him for a fraction longer before flitting back to me.
“I’m twenty-one.”
I gazed into her big brown innocent eyes and knew she was lying.
I decided to see how it would all play out and had Lucas and Z set her up in the nursery. I escaped to my father’s office to think. I had only a few days left to get Mian to talk, but a part of me was beginning to believe her. I practically raised her myself and knew her like the back of my hand. She would put her son before money.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Lucas cracked.
“We need to find a way to get her to talk. I’m starting to think…” I stopped because once I said the words, I couldn’t take them back.
“What?” Z questioned. I could detect a little hostility in his tone. “That she didn’t do it? Of course, she did.”
“You don’t know her.”
“But I know how far a woman with a kid to feed is willing to go.”
“She’s not your mother.” The words were out before I could swallow them back. Z didn’t ever talk about his mother, but the little we did get out of him was so ugly that no one blamed him. He was taken in by the state at the age of thirteen and placed in foster care when it was discovered that he had become the caretaker of his drug-addicted mother after her pimp—his father—abandoned them both for a less broken model. She fucked, sucked, and stole to keep him fed and alive until the drugs completely took over and she faded into nothing.