Page 98 of Tide of Treason
30 years old
Present day
Three years ago,I’d walked into this same building to fetch a man I didn’t give a damn about.
Today, I was here for one I did.
I sat quietly in the corner, legs crossed, the picture of dignified disinterest. The little plastic visitor’s chair did nothing for my comfort, and the fluorescent lighting overhead cast an unflattering glare on the already dreary, institutional walls. A particularly enthusiastic speck of dust floated in my periphery.
“You’ve made progress, Lucius. I mean that sincerely. How are you feeling these days?”
He scratched his jaw, which now wore a fresh dusting of stubble I was going to feel between my thighs later, if I hadanything to fucking say about it. “Lieve declared my banana pancakes the worst shit she’s ever tasted, so—yeah—mood’s low.” It should’ve ended there, but Lucius’s mind never let anything rest. “I mean,menina nem tem três anos.The kid’s not even three! Struggles with speech. But somehow, she found the words to articulate her absolute disgust for my cooking.”
Amusement pulled on Elara’s lips. “I’m sure they weren’t that bad.”
“They were, though.” He leaned back. “Marisol tried to be nice about it, but she took one bite and then suddenly had a dentist appointment she forgot to mention. On a Sunday. And Lieve—mi pequeña traidora—looked me dead in the eye, chewed for a good three seconds, then spit it directly into her palm.”
“And how do you handle criticism, Lucius?”
“Usually with violence,” he drawled.
Elara’s pause was long enough to be damning.
Lucius, for his part, seemed to realise how that sounded at the exact moment his phycologist did. “Obviously, I don’t mean her,” he amended quickly, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not . . .puta merda. I’m not violent with my goddaughter.”
I hummed lowly, amused.
The good doctor, for all her experience, seemed skeptical. Her gaze flicked over to me, looking for—what? The final verdict on whether Lucius Andrade was fit to be around small children? That would imply I held the moral high ground. I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head, letting herdecide for herself.
She exhaled like I’d disappointed her. “What about the other relationships in your life, Lucius? Any significant developments?”
My gaze slid to him, impassive.
His was heated.
“What does it mean when a woman lets an ex-fuck back into her home?”
So, we were doing this. Fine.
“Could be a sign of unresolved feelings,” she ventured.
Wrong.
Elara continued, unaware of the way the temperature in the room dipped. “Perhaps she still holds affection for him.”
Wrong, again.
“Or,” she tried once more, “it could be practical. Living arrangements, finances?”
I’d give her this. She was racking up strikes, but at least her head was still in the game.
“Doubtful. She’s hardly strapped for cash, and he’s got plenty of real estate.”
Elara tipped her head, genuinely curious. “Then why not just ask her?”
His jaw flexed, and I felt it in my chest. He hadn’t looked at me in exactly forty-seven seconds, which, for him, was tantamount to ignoring me completely.
“Because I don’t like asking for things I can’t have.”
