Page 53 of Exposing Adonis

Alex blushed a little. His cheeks were as pink as the setting sun and I was compelled to comfort him. He looked so young, andboyish.But Brett and Joe believed he was taking advantage of the misery of refugees to control oil. To make money. What could be more evil than that? And the devil was always handsome.

“You know, I see what Callum sees in you.” He wagged a finger at me. “You have a good heart.” Well, that was something I had, literally, never heard before. Not from anyone who knew I was an assassin, at least. “But as far as St. Michael’s was concerned, I was the son of a disgraced family.”

He came and stood beside me and together we looked out at the horizon, and I couldfeelthe energy shifting between us. Was it intimacy? Maybe. Camaraderie? That felt more like an accurate description.

“My family was a part of the terrible institution called apartheid,” he said, lowering his tone. “Baas is a Dutch name, and we were a part of that. We were rightfully removed.” He was reciting it with a strange distance. “My grandfather, and my father after him had wrongfully put all of their assets into South Africa. And we lost it all. So, I was admitted into St. Michael’s as a legacy. A child of a long line of alumnus. On scholarship.” I turned towards him right as his eyes cut towards me and he laughed, “You’ve met Pippa, yes?”

We chuckled. “I’ve gotten certain impressions of her.”

“So, her attitude is very normal for our circle.” He crossed his arms. “And as a fallen businessman and an un-titled member of society, I was considered a member of the riff-raff that didn’t deserve a slot in the illustrious halls of our dear academic institution of discarded rich children.”

“So not a Pippa fan, huh?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“She only ever spoke to me after I made my first billion,” he said with a knowing wink. “Then I was suddenly worthy of Pippa Fox, Baronetess.”

“I still don’t understand those titles.”

“Because you’re American,” he said with a shrug. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

He took a step closer to me, moving well into my personal space. I tried to stand still. Unlike Callum, I didn’t feel the need to run and be chased. I wanted to stand my ground.

“What is it that you see in Callum?” he asked, low in his voice.

I looked into his hazel eyes. The outsides were the brown of fertile earth, and the insides were gold. He fixed the hair on his brow, waiting for me to speak.

“He’s special, isn’t he?” I said, leaning back away from him.

“He’s a very good-hearted person,” he said, slowly, enunciating carefully. “But he seems a little naive for a person like you.”

What the hell did that mean? I wasn’t sure, but didn’t feel like it was a good time to discuss it.

“He’s a good person, and …” I grasped for something to say. “He likes my mom.” I tried to laugh. “For people like me that means the world.”

Alex contemplated me for a moment, narrowing his eyes just for a fraction before leaning back, taking a step away and nodding his head. I felt a curtain fall between us again. Like he had seen something in my answer that I did not want to reveal. But I didn’t know what it was.

“Makes sense to me.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we go inside?”

He escorted to the front door in that way that rich people do, guiding you with your arm in theirs. There was something ancient and traditional about that act. I wanted to swoon, in my cold, black heart. But I couldn’t.

When we got into the house, Dr. Laurent was waiting in the foyer, her arms crossed. Her eyes turned to me with a fire I hadn’t seen since I ate my mother’s lumpia before she had a chance to serve them to her guests.

“How fucking dare you!” I looked over her shoulder to see the panicked eyes of Pippa Fox as she rushed to Dr. Laurent’s side in complete and utter horror. “How dare you get in the middle of them? Their wedding was going to be the best thing that happened to any of us, and you won’t ruin it!”

Oh. So we were havingthisconversation now.

Chapter 25

Callum

Leadidn’tcomeupthe steps with me. I didn’t realize it until I was inside the house, ready to head to the same guest room I always stayed in. St. Michael’s alumni kept that old way alive - staying in each other’s homes, often to the point of having an assigned room. We often moved from one villa to another to pass the seasons.

This was a thing that Lea would probably claim was unusual - a privilege of the rich. I had a room in Alex’s house. One that I was used to occupying. He had one in mine as well. There were more bedrooms than people to fill them, so they were just the boarding rooms of people that we knew, who would visit and make the rounds.

When I went into the room and didn’t see her things with mine, I went out into the hall and waved down a nearby uniformed servant.

“Sir?” he asked, lightly inclining his head. I had seen him before, but his name escaped me.

“Get Lea’s things and put them in this room,” I instructed. “She’s the woman with short blonde hair.”

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