Cathedral (Cradle of Darkness 1)
Ethan was there, as promised, sauntering over in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. No pregnant blonde beauty at his side. Careful of my red lipstick, he kissed my cheeks in the European style, took my fingers and asked me if I’d care for a drink, already pulling me toward the bar.
Leaving the senator alone with Malcom, who was infinitely dangerous and smiling again.
“Listen, I know I should have called.” Running a hand through his golden hair, mussing it perfectly, Ethan gave a self-deprecating grin. “You just threw me out… and I… I you know.”
“Left me for another woman.”
“Well”—he stood a bit taller, slightly put out—“I didn’t leave. You had me removed from our house.”
“My house, where your girlfriend had been living without my knowledge.” And one thing bothered me above all others. “She wore my things.”
That brought out a grin. “You’re the same size.”
I didn’t even know how to respond to this, it was like speaking to a happy monkey that had no concept of right or wrong. And considering who I was, all the atrocious things I’d done, I was a bit shaken. “Ethan, apologize this instant.”
And he did, with great big, wide, shining eyes. “I’m sorry, Jade.”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course I do!” This exclamation came with an enthusiastic kiss that felt more for show than real. Because Ethan knew never to kiss lips painted blood red. Not unless he had a chance to repair his appearance or was giving me a gift draped in diamonds. “These situations, they’re nothing to people like us. I’ll tuck her away, you’ll never need to see her again. Split my time between you. Of course, she’ll never be”—he waved his hands around the grandeur and elite gathered sipping their martinis—“a part of this.”
Oh, the foolish boy. Malcom was going to give this to me. He was going to give me this bumbling, stupid, sweet idiot. And there would be no need for mistresses or hidden families. We weren’t the fucking Kennedys, and I had no need to tolerate a Marilyn. He’d be changed and mine forever, and all I had to do was let Malcom fuck me.
Like he had already done a dozen times.
My cheeks grew flushed, my breath uneven, and without intent my eyes sought him across the crowd. Watching me. One glance, and I knew he knew.
I was thinking of him fucking me right now.
Which was so beyond disturbing that I blanked completely. Ignoring Ethan sputtering on about our future, his less than subtle hints that I better get those funds to his uncle before he addressed my father directly.
Wait.
Had Ethan just threatened me?
Had my Ethan dared, considering his sins? I knew my eyes went red as disgusting human blood, redder than the ruby at my throat. And all the anger that I hadn’t had a chance to purge because I’d been too busy mourning left me looking much less than human.
A thing witnessed by a powerful family’s golden child and black sheep.
It was utterly cliché, laughable, but undeniably right in that moment. “Do you have any idea who my father is? Can you grasp what he would fucking do to your entire family for disturbing him for even a moment? He’d see you all slaughtered and walk away laughing.”
Ethan went white. The pallor worn by all humans trapped as livestock in the Cathedral.
“You want money, power, things I have assured for your family for an age? The sacrifices I’ve made to guarantee a Parker holds the Senate? The bailouts for your father’s empire? Tell me again that I’d be wise to make my expected donation to a political campaign that goes against your family’s direct orders.”
“Jade?” I was scaring him.
It felt wickedly good and equally awful. “Open borders, Parker. I don’t give a fuck how the senator sells it. Your family works for your bread like everyone else.”
A cool hand came to my back, instantly smoothing raised hackles. “I think it might be time to leave, my love.”
A blink. Just one, and red went to blue; fangs retracting. I had not even realized I’d gone so far.
“Idiot human”—Malcom stood between us, only inches left between my Ethan and my guardian—“you will remember nothing of this except that you’re sorry for rudely asking your ex-girlfriend for a political donation. Which she denied. Bad form.”
And off I was swept, through the party, and into the elevator, not twenty minutes after I had arrived.
In a daze, I confessed, “I don’t know what came over me…”
All I could see was my smeared red lipstick reflected back to me from the polished elevator doors, and I was annoyed. Annoyed Ethan had ruined it.
He’d ruined everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maybe I was young, inexperienced in real feeling. Maybe Gerard wasn’t real. Try as I might in those awful moments in the elevator, I couldn’t remember how much I’d love Ethan’s grandfather.