Page 86 of Atone

The hallway is thankfully quiet. I don’t pass anyone as I find my way back to the main staircase. Sigma House is humming with voices coming from a room tucked down one of the hallways, but the foyer is empty.

Without a party raging, the guards I’m used to standing at the bottom of the stairs have relinquished their posts.

It says something about Alex’s trust in me that he left me to go where I please, especially when he already caught me snooping around Sigma House once.

I’m halfway across the marble floor in the foyer when the front door swings open. Sun beams from behind the man stepping through, and for a second, I think it’s Alex. But this man is older. His blond hair is peppered with gray. He’s slightly shorter and wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

His shapely lips form a thin line as he closes the door behind him, assessing me. “Hello, Mila.”

He knows who I am?

My face must show my confusion because his mouth quirks with an amused grin as he takes a step forward.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” He pauses a few steps away. “I wasn’t home when you stopped by the property with my son.”

“Mr. Lancaster?” It hits me like a bolt of lightning.

Alex is all comfort, but his father feels like something else entirely.

“You may call me Gideon.” The smile on his face should probably feel friendly, but it doesn’t.

“Gideon,” I repeat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He hums, not agreeing that it’s nice to meet me, too, as his eyes do another sweep. Suddenly, I wish I were wearing more clothes. Or that he would at least stop looking at me the way he is.

“My son always did have unusual taste.” Another sweep. “A testament to his defiance, I suppose.”

Is that an insult?

“You’re from Oregon, correct?” He breezes past his comment and moves on.

“How did you know that?”

“I make a point of knowing everything there is to know where my son is concerned.”

Gideon steps closer, and I start to see their many differences, even if I thought they were the same person at first glance. His father’s eyes are the color of wet mud swirled with ink. And his jaw is slightly rounder.

“You stayed here last night with my son.” It’s not a question as his judgmental gaze roves over me. “I suppose a little fun never hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what this is.” My teeth clench.

“I know a thing or two about you, Mila. You’re smart. You’ve gotpotential.” Something about how he drags out the word doesn’t make it sound like a compliment. “But make no mistake. Whatever is happening between you and my son isn’t the fairytale you’re concocting in your pretty little head. He doesn’t end up with the girl from the circus.”

“It’s a carnival.”

“It’s irrelevant.” Gideon steps closer. “You are a whimhe’s chasing. The sooner you understand that, the better for everyone. Enjoy whatever my son finds appropriate to give you for now. But you do not end up with him.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

He hums. “I’m sure you would like to think that.”

My eyes narrow, and his do the same.

But I don’t let him see the doubts swirling in my mind. I stand as still as I can, stopping my fingers from fidgeting. Gideon thinks I’m nothing more than carnival trash. Not worth anything more than the entertainment I provide them. But I refuse to let him see that it stings. He hasn’t earned my embarrassment. And unlike the insecure girl I once was, I don’t feel ashamed of where I came from anymore.

Remi taught me better.

Footsteps echo against the marble floor, finally breaking our ice-cold staring contest.

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