Page 114 of Poison Vows

Oh no, no, no…

“You have an aversion for confrontation that demands of honesty and accountability, don’t you, Ivy Marie?”

Stunned and somewhat feeling like I’ve just been slapped, I stare at him.

He’s basically saying what I already know and admitted to Scar… I tend to be delusional.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I stutter, my heart thundering hard and painfully in my chest.

I should’ve known better than to play the fool in front of the head of the Easton Family, but I have to.

And as Scar pointed out, the position is not just about power. There’s a whole lot of cunning, calculation, and ruthlessness one has to possess to take that seat.

The thing is, I have to pretend and act the fool if I want to survive this.

But just like back then… I’m completely out of my league here.

If Emmett is inexplicably intelligent and scheming, what more his wily fox of a grandfather?

“Tell me, Ivy Marie, are you familiar with the Holy Bible?”

“I… I’ve read a few verses every now and then.”

“With that force of a woman who raised you, I’m sure you have read more than just a few verses here and there.”

My head whips up so fast that I’m sure I just fractured my own neck. “W-what?”

Emmett’s grandfather looks at me steadily then he flips the pages of the book he’s holding.

“You know my grandmother?” I croak, but the old man doesn’t answer.

I realize then that the book he’s been reading is in fact a Bible, because he starts speaking, or rather reading, from it.

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away all childish things.”

When he’s done, a heavy silence falls between us. The only sound is the crackling of the fire, and the hard pounding of my heart.

“Do you know who wrote that?” he asks in that deep gravelly tone, heavy with his Italian accent.

“It was Paul the Apostle,” I answer silently, my palms damp and body riddled with shivers and goosebumps. “To the believers of Christ Jesus in Corinth.”

“You’re knowledgeable! Good!” he praises, but I can’t breathe anymore.

By mentioning my grandmother, he’s basically telling me that he kept his word from long ago.

But I commit to the act of my life. Breaking character now will mean the end for everyone I love.

“The woman who raised me, my grandmother, she’s always been adamant about us having a personal relationship with God,” I tell him, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

“And by us, you mean you and Samuel Jr.?”

There it is again, his blatant knowledge of my life.

“No need to be alarmed,” he says dismissively. “I haven’t harmed your grandmother in any way. Good old Samuel Sr. would have my head for that.”

Anger, fast and hot, courses through my veins when Gramps is mentioned.

“Are you talking about…”

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