Page 61 of It Starts With A No

She dropped her hand. “Ask me what’s wrong and listen to whatever I have to say.”

He frowned.

“Mr. E hasn’t gotten back to you?”

He laughed once without humor. “You think I’m here because I need a favor.”

“Aren’t you?”

Seth’s chest rose as he ran his tongue under his teeth. “No, I’m not.” He clasped his hands together. “I came to tell you he did, or rather, his assistant or whoever is handling his phone calls did.”

“Uncle David?”

He nodded.

“His chauffeur and right-hand man,” Clary said. “If Uncle David says he’ll handle it, it will be handled.”

“So I should get out of your office now.”

She blinked, stunned by his harsh tone, which Seth regretted immediately. “I’d understand if you wanted to,” she said.

Seth rubbed his tongue against his chipped canine.

“I know how much you hate the Eolenfelds, and it’s undeniable that I’m associated with them.”

“And you can’t stand being reminded of how screwed up we are because of your precious Eolenfelds.” He stood, and Clary grabbed his hand.

She let go the moment he turned back to her, pulling her hand back in disgust.

“And every time you put your hand on me,” he continued, “it reminds you of that.”

Her brows twitched. “I pulled back my hand because I could feel your muscles tensing. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just … I know you don’t like people to touch you, but I seem to keep forgetting that with you.”

And that was what he should be annoyed about with her. Yet it was the furthest thing from his mind.

“And I don’t need you to remind me of how screwed up the Eolenfelds are.”

“I—”

“So you don’t like people to touch you.” She shrugged. “As I’ve said, you’re not all that special.”

“I’m not aiming to be special.”

“Good, because you’re not.”

He laughed, and her lips curled back into a soft smile.

“And you’re not that screwed up—no more than anyone else,” she said.

“Don’t patronize me.”

Clary sighed heavily. “I don’t like to be left behind because I can’t stand being sidelined while things happen. My mind goes through all the horrible scenes that can happen because I’ve seen them happen.” She dropped her gaze to the coffee table. “I’m not an adrenaline junkie. It’s survivors’ guilt.”

Survivors’ guilt?

She sucked in a breath through her mouth. “At least that’s what the psychiatrist says. Grandma Moretti and Mr. E fully agree.” She slumped back against the couch. “So I guess it must be kind of right.”

Seth stepped toward her, aching to reach out and touch her.

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