Page 22 of Ruthless Legacy

She shudders beneath me and I spill onto her back, bathing in the release, floating. I live in the darkness, but Thea makes me feel light. Sheismy light.

From the moment we met, I’ve seen things clearer than I ever have before. She illuminates everything around her even though she tries to blend in. It’s the set of her shoulders, and the look of pride and accomplishment she has on her face when she works a problem, or puts someone in their place. It’s a sense of regality you can’t fake. It comes from knowing your worth. Like a queen. That’s why I call her Rey. She’s my sunlightandmy queen.

I climb out of bed and tuck my dick back into my sweatpants before heading to the bathroom. She’s still on her stomach when I return with a washcloth to clean her up. Instead of crawling back under the covers, like I want, I kiss her cheek and leave through the front door.

I dump her bottle of sleeping pills in the trash, then sit back in front of my computer, answering the message that came in before I left. While I’m responding, an alternate option for dealing with Thea’s transfer comes to mind. I’ve never tried it. Never even considered it, but now I’m wondering how hard it would be to access The League’s servers and destroy whatever files Eloise gave them. If I get to it before her transfer goes through, they’ll have to let her stay. Or better yet, I could modify them, so Eloise is the one who’s getting transferred. That would take care of three problems with one hack.

My subconscious sounds a lot like my dad when it reminds me that if I get caught poking around the league’s servers, the punishment will be worse than anything the government would come up with.

My parents have always been my moral compass. Most kids hate their parents as their inner critic, but I don’t, because mine are the most supportive parents a kid can ask for.

I’m far from being an angel. There have always been consequences for my actions, but my parents at least let me explain what I was thinking, before punishing me for some boneheaded thing I did.

Even now, while I’m loosely considering the worst abuse of trust imaginable, I can hear my dad saying,

“I can’t compromise my job. The work I do is too important, but you’re your own man and you’re going to do things I won’t always support. Things I won’t agree with. Things I will consider criminal acts. Things that will put us on opposite sides. I love you, son, but if you get caught breaking the law, I will fully support your arrest and lead the manhunt to track you down. So, before going rouge, and doing whatever you’re thinking about doing, make sure it’s worth the cost you’ll pay for getting caught.”

This is about Thea. To me, she’s worth it.

Chapter12

Thea

I’m not big on Christmas, because I never lived with anyone who cared enough about me to make it special. Sasha and her grandparents always made sure I had a few gifts under the tree, but that’s it. I appreciate Moira and Scott not trying to overcompensate and make a big deal of it.

Van had her Christmas Party at the hotel. I had fun hanging out with my old co-workers. We did a white elephant exchange, and Moira and Scott gave me a stocking stuffed with gift cards. I told them how much I like the little French Bistro uptown, and they went a little overboard making sure I had cards so I can eat there whenever I want. They think they’re slick. I’m still refusing to use the credit cards they gave me, so this is their work around.

“Hello, again.”

I look up from my phone and spot Pax’s grandfather at the table in the middle of the room, just like before. That must be his favorite table. “Hey Papa Pax.” I smirk, ignoring the appalled look on his companion’s face.

I’m pretty sure the hostess was leading me to the back of the restaurant, but she changes course and sits me at the table next to his. Glancing over my shoulder, I take note of the number of people in the room, and the location of the kitchen and emergency exit signs. I hate that my back’s exposed, but at least I can sit facing the door. The server comes over and fills my water glass. I already know what I want. I turn towards Papa Pax’s table after placing my order. “You know, I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Is that so?” He drawls.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Very few people are happy to run into me. What they are is happy to ask somethingof me.”

I slather some butter on my Baguette, then break off a piece, stifling a groan as I pop it in my mouth. I chew while mulling over his statement. “Well, I do want to ask something of you, so that makes sense.” I say, before taking a drink.

“Go on. Make your pitch.”

I laugh and snort my water. His companion is now looking at me like I’m a pile of steaming shit. “Oh. Relax Papa Pax. I’m not about to hit you up for money or anything. I just wanna know how to officially decline this whole guardian legacy thingy.”

His buddy scoffs, and old man Pax asks in a measured tone. “Decline?”

“That’s right. My friend says every invitation should have a formal acceptance or denial, but she doesn’t know the protocol for this, and since you’re the head guy, I know you do.”

“Why do you assume I’m in charge?”

“I’ve been around shot callers all my life. I recognize a boss when I see one.”

The guy sitting with him says, “If that were true, you’d be approaching this conversation with more respect.”

I finally give him three seconds of my time, look him dead in the eyes, and say, “There is so much to unpack here about why men in this town think it’s so disrespectful for women to ask questions. And I’m assuming it’s only women, sopleasefeel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t. I turn back to Pax’s grandfather. “So, is there a formal process for me to decline or is telling you good enough? I want to get this right, so we’re not repeating it a month from now.”

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