Page 44 of Burn With Me

“Why are you even bothering?” I ask with a deprecating laugh. My hands come up and I scrub them down my face, not even caring if it’s ruining my makeup. It’s waterproof anyway. It should be able to withstand the strength of the rest of my emotions too. “Why even bother to explain anything now? What are you hoping to gain?”

Isaac tilts his head to the side and considers me. “What makes you think I’m trying to gain anything from you, Aurora?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Isaac,” I say. “You’ve been trying to torment me into doing what you want since the day we met.” I blow out a breath. “I’m tired,” I admit. “I’m fucking sick and tired of it. What do you really want?”

“I want you to get in the car,” he states. “I want to take you somewhere safe, and I want to sit down and have a civil conversation for once.”

When a laugh comes out of my throat, it echoes up into the sky and it doesn’t sound anything like amusement. “Civil?” I’m shocked he even knows what that means. “We passed civil a long time ago, Isaac. What we are is nothing but two warring sides. You made us this way.”

“You didn’t seem too keen to stop the fight,” he points out.

“You’re right,” I admit. Why? Probably because he gave me a reason to prove to myself that I wasn’t the scared little girl in need of protection anymore. But I don’t want to fight if there’s no real reason to. “We both want the same thing,” I tell him. “We want our parents’ marriage to end. So, why are we even bothering to do this?” It’s fucking stupid.

“I have my reasons.” His words are vague and they make me want to punch him again. My hands clench into fists at my sides.

“You want to talk?” I ask. “Then tell me. Give me your fucking reasons because I don’t get it.”

“Not here,” he says. Isaac steps forward and, this time, I stand my ground. He comes at me, step by step, inch by inch until he’s standing in front of me and only then does he stop. “Get in the car, Aurora.” When I open my mouth to deny him once more, his head dips, and my eyes widen as his forehead touches mine in the lightest brush. “Please.”

There’s a whole host of emotions in that final word. A plea. A wish. My lips part and hang open, but when he says it in that tone … I find it hard to deny him.

My eyes slide shut. My insides riot, but even so, I turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t come after me because he knows where I’m going. I head to the car, where the passenger side door is still hanging open, waiting for me. I grip the handle and climb back inside, shutting it firmly behind me, and it’s only when Isaac rounds the front of the Escalade and gets into the driver’s side that I speak.

“Tell me where we’re going, Isaac.” It’s not a request.

Isaac’s hands grip the steering wheel and he turns the key in the ignition. “Away, Aurora,” he answers. “Far, far away.”

21

RORI

Isaac’s ‘far, far away’ isn’t actually that far. At least, physically, it isn’t. But as we pull up in front of a hotel several minutes later, it feels like both of us are lost in a haze of our own thoughts. Maybe he meant that the two of us would eventually escape this cycle we were born into—fighting for dominance when all we are meant to be are pawns in someone else’s game.

“Come on.” I don’t fight him this time as he parks at the entrance and gets out, tossing the keys to a valet. We enter the building and I trail behind him, passing the front desk without stopping. We enter a private elevator and remain silent all the way up to the top floor. The penthouse suite, of course. I would expect nothing less from the Icari heir.

“What is this place?” I ask as we step out onto marble, tiled floor and the elevator doors close behind us. My voice echoes around the vast space. It’s all whites and blacks. Monochrome and lifeless.

“It’s the place you were meant to move into,” Isaac says. “With me.” Right. I’d almost forgotten Damien’s “offer.”

So this place was meant to be my cage, then. I take a look around, moving farther into the living room. The only sign of life aside from the two of us are the various plants around the room. The contrast of so much empty space next to vibrancy almost makes my eyes hurt.

“Okay,” I say, my voice echoing in the quiet open space. “Well, you’ve got me here, now, Isaac.” I turn towards him, my back to the wall of windows and the glass doors that lead out onto the rooftop patio. “Say what you want to say.”

He looks at me for a brief moment and when he doesn’t immediately respond, I scoff. “What? Is the place bugged?”

It wouldn’t surprise me. Damien Icari strikes me as the kind of control freak who wants to know everything about everyone at every second of every day—including his own son.

He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t move into a place if I thought it was bugged. I have a team sweep it regularly.” His words confirm my suspicions. My eyes narrow on him. I’m starting to develop a larger picture of what’s going on.

Damien and Isaac, despite being father and son, are at war. A far more brutal and bloody war than the one between him and me.

I exhale and look back to the room, scanning it until I find what I need. The second I spot the alcohol cart, I make a beeline for it. I pop the cap on the decanter sitting there and pour myself a hefty dose of whatever’s inside. It doesn’t matter what it is—all alcohol numbs the senses eventually and I hadn’t had nearly enough back at the club.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Isaac doesn’t move fast enough to stop me. Before he can make it across the room, I’ve got the glass half full and placed at my lips. I swallow back a mouthful, wincing at the burn in my throat, and then down the rest. When his hand lands on my shoulder and his fingers pluck the glass from mine—it’s too late.

“What the fuck amIdoing?” I repeat with a laugh. “What the fuck areyoudoing? Dancing around the subject?” I let him take the glass and place it back on the cart before I jab him in the chest. “You brought me here, Isaac. Time to spill the fucking beans. If there’s a point to the cloak and dagger shit, I’m ready to listen.”

His eyes turn cold as he looks down at me. “No, I don’t think you are. You’re just angry. You want to get drunk—”

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