“Do you have any whiskey?”I asked, plopping myself down in the same seat I often frequented when I came into my uncle’s moody and depressing office. I loosened my tie and propped my foot up against the ledge of his desk, leaning back in the chair.
“What happened last night?” My uncle’s glare didn’t faze me, and if I were in better spirits, I would have joked with him. But I wasn’t in the mood for games this evening, and I had a very important tutoring session to get to in just a few minutes.
“I came to my senses, that’s what.” And as bitter as the words tasted, they were true. The only thing that kept replaying in my head from last night was the way Gemma looked after I had hurt her and how proud my father was. Two things I never wanted to see again.
My uncle bent down and pulled open a drawer in his desk. He disappeared for a brief moment before popping back up with a bottle of whiskey. Fuck yeah. Now we were talkin’.
My eyebrow hitched, and I grinned. “You surprise me sometimes, Uncle Tate.”
He scoffed. “This is for me. Not you. Now tell me, what happened? Mrs. Fitz mentioned to me that she saw you dropping Gemma off at her room as she made her rounds last night.”
I paused, keeping my face steady. “Did she tell the rest of the SMC?”
The fucking SMC. Always breathing down my neck. They were almost worse than my father. Almost.
He shook his head, pouring a single shot that sat in between us. I eyed it carefully, wondering if he would let me have one. Tate Ellison was a man of good word, but he still had Underwood blood running through his veins, which meant that he was a bit rebellious, even if he wanted to hide it.
“So?” he prodded, picking the glass up.
I clenched my teeth, watching the flickering fire. It almost felt like the flames were licking up my arms as anger began to simmer again. “Gemma snuck out last night while we were on our way back from Temple.” The shot glass slammed back to the desk, but I kept my eyes on the dancing reds and oranges. “She went back to the Covens. Stole Bain’s car. And when I found her…”
“Jesus Christ.”
I ignored his muttering. “When I found her, Dad had a hold of her hair, threatening her because he thought Bain was watching from afar or some shit. He thought she was his girlfriend or something.” Silence jutted through the room like the crashing of a wave in the middle of a hurricane. It was quick and suffocating, and I had to force the next words out. “I had to interfere in the worst way possible to show him that I was his little fucked-up clone and that Gemma meant nothing to me. That I didn’t even know her. I said she was nothing more than a piece of ass and that I would use her to send a message to Bain.”
When I glanced back at my uncle, feeling the guilt creep in, his eyes were shut as his nostrils flared. I wasn’t sure what he was angrier about, but to be honest, I didn’t really care much. He wasn’t a part of this life anymore, even if he wanted to act like he was. There was nothing he could have done if he were the one to go after Gemma. Underwood business stayed within those of the same surname, and from the moment Uncle Tate stepped out of the family business, he had to legally change his name and never speak of it again. Same with my older brother, Jacobi.
“And are you, Isaiah?” he finally asked, pouring another shot. Two was his limit. I was half-eager to see if he’d pour a third. I was certain this school would drive him to alcoholism eventually—at least with me in attendance. He cared too much for the students here. He would have never survived working alongside my father. Jacobi would have. But my older brother was even more selfish than I was.
“Am I what?” I put both feet back on the ground and rested my elbows against my knees.
He swallowed, twisting the cap back onto the whiskey bottle. Huh. Two was still the limit. “Are you a clone of your father? Are you following in his footsteps? Did seeing him with Gemma change something for you?”
The last we’d spoken of this, I told him I was taking over the business when the time came because of my father’s threats against Jack, so I waited for the surprised look on his face when I answered, “No.”
“No?”
Last night didn’t necessarily change me. It just made me realize what was already there. I was not Carlisle Underwood. The anxiety that I wouldn’t allow to fester was beginning to cage me, so I quickly changed the subject, knowing I needed to get to the library even if, the entire time, I would be feeling nothing but irritation and regret.
Part of me wanted to be done with the whole tutoring thing so my life could be a little bit easier. But Jack wasn’t safe yet, and until he was, I had to keep up with saving face. I had to keep up with my grades. I had to keep up with the tutoring sessions with a girl who made me see nothing but her. I had to continue following Bain, even if I was now certain he was just setting me up the entire time anyway. My job wasn’t done yet.
“I need to use your phone.”
“Isaiah,” my uncle’s voice grew more intense, and I clicked my tongue back and forth, making the world's most annoying noise, pretending as if I didn’t hear the skepticism in the way he’d said my name. “What’s going on with you? Now all of a sudden you’re not taking over the business?”
“I just need to use your phone. Or maybe one of those phones inside your desk.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s a better idea. Give me one of those so no one can trace it back to me.”
The tiny crease in between his brows was back. “Who are you calling? And is Gemma okay? After last night?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth as my shoulders tensed. “She’s fine. And I’m calling the Covens.”
He nearly choked on his spit. “Why the hell would you need to call the Covens? Isaiah. Do you know what you’re doing?” He let out an exasperated sigh before glaring at me. “The SMC is just about ready to take you off probation. They’ve set a date to reconvene. That’s why I wanted you to come to my office. What are you up to? Talk to me.”
That had something snapping in my neck. Gemma could leave after I was off probation. Plus, once Jack was safe, it wouldn’t matter anyway. I would be done following Bain, and I wouldn’t need a cover or a tutor. She would no longer be a player in this game.
I made a mental note to check on her ID and the other various documents I knew she’d need to completely fall off the face of the earth as who we knew to be Gemma Richardson, even if the thought made me sick.
“Isaiah!” my uncle barked, and it snapped me to attention.
“I’m calling the fucking Covens to see if Tobias Richardson is there.” My teeth gritted, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if dust had coated the inside of my mouth. “She can’t go back there again, and I am absolutely certain that the entire reason she went there last night was because she thought he was there.”
I hardly got the sentence out before he spoke. “He’s not there.”
My head tilted with surprise. “What?”
“He’s not there—at least not under that name. I’ve already checked.” He paused, placing both hands on the desk and standing up to glare down at me. “I have Gemma Richardson handled, Isaiah.”
I rolled my eyes, standing up alongside him. “Do ya now?” And he thought that would stop me?
“I have secrets, too. Let me handle her. You handle the plan that I know you have brewing in the back of your head on how to get out from the family business, and let me know if I can help.”
I walked over to the door, keeping my back to him. He knew he couldn’t help me. I knew it too. He also knew it was useless to ask me anything else about my upcoming plans, because I wouldn’t tell them. I kept my secrets close, and there was a reason for that.
“You’re too good to be the Huntsman, Isaiah. You are not your father. You’re making the right choice.”
But was I?