Page 20 of Exodus

“You don’t fucking know me.”

“I don’t fucking want to.”

He swipes his hand across the counter, drawing the chopped vegetables into a bowl. Another tense silence passes, and I don’t bother to acknowledge the hint of guilt he’s displaying. Even if he added the sincerest of apologies, it would never be enough.

“So, if it wasn’t Tyler, it was someone from the Meetup who told you I was here. Is that how you found out about me?” He pauses briefly, seeming to weigh up whether to respond before he finally nods.

“The Miami crew; we’re having allegiance issues with a few of them.”

“Is it because of the driver who nearly killed Sean? The one Dominic made an example of?”

He shakes his head. “That only added to the existing problem. I became concerned when Dom told me what happened and then stopped checking in with me as often. My brother had never been that hard to reach. Neither had Sean.”

“So, you broke the number one rule and asked—”

“They gave me no fucking choice,” he snaps defensively. “I never had to until...” the implication lingers heavily before he drops it altogether with a harsh exhale. “My brother and I don’t agree on a lot these days when it comes to his militant extremes. But I can’t say I blame him for his reaction that night.”

Tobias turns back to the stove and stirs the pasta, and I find it odd to see him in this domestic capacity. He seems the type of man to own a boardroom, a no-bullshit closer, who commands a meeting before he fucks his assistant after, her skirt hitched up around her hips as he thrusts into her while puffing on a celebratory cigar.

He most definitely doesn’t seem the type to do menial tasks, like grocery shop. Then again, nothing is what it seems when it comes to these winged bastards.

“I can feel you watching me,” he speaks up from where he stands, his back turned.

“Chalk it up to curiosity,” I repeat his earlier words. “You went to the store?”

“That’s usually the place you go to get food to cook.”

“Smartass.”

“I can feel you looking at that too.”

Guilty, I dart my gaze away.

“You’re awfully at ease in this kitchen. What if my dad were to walk through the door right now?”

He glances over his shoulder, offering me a dead stare that lets me know I should know better.

“Never mind, you probably know his morning dump schedule.”

This time he turns to me, gripping the counter behind him. “Your father is on a plane. And the only thing he knows about me is that I received a settlement he signed off on when he made me an eleven-year-old orphan. I’m sure he didn’t give a damn what became of the two of us the minute he paid us off.”

He was eleven, which puts Tobias somewhere around thirty-one.

“You’re sure he’s guilty?”

“I’m sure he covered it up. I’m sure he’s crooked as fuck in his business dealings, and that’s enough. But this isn’t just about me. My motives aren’t purely selfish.”

“I never said they were.”

“It’s business.”

“Business. So, I assume that kiss was business too?”

“It was to make a point, and you questioning it is the sole reason for our conversation.”

“If this is a proposition, I’m not interested. You can take your business elsewhere. This conversation is pointless, as is your presence in this house. I’ve told you, it’s not my place to pay for his mistakes, and you have no say in my life whatsoever. I owe you nothing. And this concludes our business, so you can see yourself out.”

In a flash, he crosses the kitchen and painfully grips my jaw in his hand. “My curiosity stems from the fact I was lied to and gutted by the two people I trusted most in the whole fucking world. I think you know how fucked that feels. I’m pretty sure you’ve been there, recently.”

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