Page 127 of Tangled In Lies

A noise behind me snaps me out of my trance, and I turn to stare at Niko, who has one foot out of the SUV.

“You okay there, boss?”

I glance over at Darrell in the passenger seat, who’s wearing a similar expression as Niko, furrowed brows and eyes full of concern. Maybe they’re questioning my sanity, and I can’t even blame them. These days, I’m right there with them. To be honest, I forgot they were even here, so perhaps they have a reason to worry.

“Let’s go home.” I walk toward the car.

Niko gets out to open the back door for me.

The drive is silent as I stare at the gray clouds, going over what just happened, trying to take every one of Ben’s facial expressions and words apart. Over and over.

The world would be a better place without all of you.

The words still replay in my head during my walk from the garage into the kitchen.

Right now, I have two goals and two goals only.

First, getting a drink.

Second, getting lost in Eve until this day ends and I pass out from exhaustion.

Huxley’s wiping a large bowl with a kitchen towel. He gives me a once-over, his eyes immediately widening. Damn it.

A glance at the time tells me it’s dinner prep time. I should have paid more attention to the time and gone straight upstairs, reducing the risk of running into anyone.

“Sir. Are you all right?” He drops the towel and bowl and comes around the island. “Your shirt.”

My hand goes toward where he’s pointing on reflex, and he lets out a quiet gasp at the sight of my hand. A glance at my shirt confirms my suspicion that I must have gotten more than just my knuckles bloody.

“I’m fine.” Ignoring my shirt and my hand, I focus on the long wall of cabinets and grab a glass from one.

Huxley intercepts me at the liquor tray. “Sir, please let me help.”

The old man is fluttering around me like a nervous mother hen, and I don’t care right now.

He almost pushes me aside, takes my favorite whiskey from the tray, and pours me a large heap.

“Thanks.” I grunt out before drinking it in one go.

By the time I set down the glass, Huxley has produced a first aid kit, and is already rummaging around to get what he needs. I let him fret. He cleans my wounds, applies ointment,and bandages them. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can devour Eve.

That asshole psychopath will never touch her again, not even with a speck of his blood.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to patch someone up.” Huxley gets rid of all evidence and smirks at me. “Your grandfather could be a bit of a hothead sometimes, especially when your grandmother was involved.”

Despite the pain that hits me every time I think about my grandparents and that they were taken from us too early, I still have to chuckle at Huxley’s comment.

“Your grandmother was incredibly protective too, but her ways were more . . . let’s say more subtle than your grandfather’s.”

“They both loved fiercely and protected what was theirs.” I’ve always wondered how my father became the person he is with such amazing parents. But then Grandpa would tell me he wasn’t always like this, that somewhere he took a wrong path, listened to the wrong people, and became too greedy. I think they always hoped he’d change back into the man he used to be, the man I only know from stories.

Huxley nods. “That they did.” He pauses for a moment. “They would have adored your Evangeline. Sometimes, I see the same spark in her eyes that I saw in your grandmother’s.”

Your Evangeline.

My Evangeline.

The only reason she’s mine is because I forced her to marry me, a decision that was entirely led by my blind hatred for her.

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