Page 85 of The Forbidden Note

I can’t believe she let the truth rip.Our family connection is now out in the open. Harris might not say a word, but his receptionist heard everything. The woman with the long nails and perpetually sour expression is a blabbermouth.

Once, I banged a chick in Harris’s office on a dare. The receptionist walked in on us and nearly busted a lung, screaming louder than the chick who was getting her back blown. By the end of the school day, everyone knew about it.

I bet that dare was the first and last time his desk saw any action. Harris walks around like a dork from the sixties, head always bent to the ground, muttering politely, and being practically invisible. Guys like that don’t exactly have girls falling at their feet.

I stuff my hands into my pockets, ready to go. With Grey gone, I no longer have a reason to be in Harris’s office.

“Zane,” he calls.

I face him.

His eyes have this weird sheen, almost like a cornered animal. “You know this isn’t the end, right? It’ll only get worse from here. There’s no way this gets better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No.” He shakes his head. Dull eyes dart back and forth in a face as pale as paper. “This can’t get out.”

My jaw works in irritation. What the hell?

Suddenly, Harris’s eyes clear and snap to mine. “I don’t care what she is to you—sister, lover, long-lost egg donor. Just keep her in line.”

His words make my shoulders tense. I smile, but it’s not a pretty sight and I see when he flinches.

“Do you even know why she’s here at Redwood? Do you know the implications?” He grabs a napkin and sops the sweat on his face.

“Of course I know.” I lie, standing straight up.

“No, you don’t.” He laughs and it sounds unhinged. “Freaking hell. We’re screwed.”

I roll my eyes, tired of watching this pathetic, sniveling mess. But I only get one step toward the door before I turn back.

“Harris.”

He glances up.

“Today’s incident was a one-off. This is the first and last time you try and get rid of her. Do you understand?”

He trembles. “What is that woman to you?”

“Exactly what she said. She’s family.” I slip my drumstick out and point it at him. “So think twice before you come for our girl.”

Two red stains creep over Harris’s cheeks.

I pass the wide-eyed receptionist, my mind buzzing. There was a strange tension between Grey and Harris earlier. The way he was looking at her—like he couldn’t stand that she was breathing air—it made all the hair on the back of my neck stand.

Tiger, what the hell are you mixed up in?

Harris isn’t the scary type. He’s usually smiling, cracking bad jokes, and looking totally overwhelmed. Every time he takes the mike at a rally, he has to yell ‘silence’ several times before anyone pays attention to him.

He’s a figurehead.

A puppet.

Dangling on the strings of those more powerful than him.

And there are many more powerful than him.

Dad being one of them.

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