Page 103 of Terror Tuesday
He’s leaning back in his desk chair, his white formal shirt unbuttoned casually, glass of some amber liquid held in his hand. And a pistol with a silencer laying on top of the blotter pointed right at me.
My hand grabs my face to make sure my mask is covering it, and it is, but…he looks at me as if he knows what I look like underneath it.
With as much bravado as I can muster, I take a breath and state: “I have a proposition for you. And a warning.” Hopefully, he doesn’t see my knees knocking together as his blue eyes behold me with something like mild interest.
He pulls a drink of whiskey between his teeth and licks his bottom lip slowly, savoring the flavor before granting me those piercing eyes again. Some part of me, twisted by fate or blood, aches for his approval.
His daughter inspires much the same feeling.
“I’ll take the warning first.”
“I’m here to kill you,” I admit evenly, voice just steady enough to cover my trembling core.
As if I’ve bored him, he waves a finger toward a club chair in front of him and doesn’t speak until I perch on the end.
“Very well,” he drawls, swirling his whiskey. “And what’s your proposition?”
I shrug and say, “That you give me something not to.”
Maybe he’s heard the lines too many times. And all my instincts about being led here on purpose were correct. He’s unbothered. Like ice. An untouchable creature.
But I know what will make him melt.
There’s a tiny tug at the corners of his mouth. If I got a second look, I’d say it was a smile. “Why do you think I won’t kill you?”
And here’s where the game begins… “Because I have something you desire.”
“What’s that?”
Uncomfortable being so close to the gun’s barrel, I stand and take a step behind the chair. But the pistol pointed casually at me feels like a test rather than a threat. He holds every advantage, but I still possess one hidden card—one dangerous truth he can’t afford to ignore.
“Before I answer that, we need to come to an understanding. Abargain.”
The man releases a chuckle. There’s no mirth behind it. “You’re askingme, the man’s house you broke into tonight, for trust to strike a deal.”
“Yes.”
He picks up a tablet and flicks a few screens across it that I cannot see. Not even looking at me, he declares, “Your father is Calum Von Dovish, correct?”
Every muscle in my body locks tight, dread pooling like molten lead in my chest. He knows exactly who I am—probably knows everything, even the secrets I hide beneath layers of darkness. “Yes.”
“Of West Tech Industries.” It’s not a question.
My gloved hands show me holding nothing. I didn’t bring a gun. “Then you know exactly who I am. So, are we ready to strike a deal?”
Xavier swishes the ice in his glass, the clinking almost driving me mad. His gaze bores into my mask, and I feel not just frustrated, but ashamed of wearing it.
Leaning forward slightly, his blue eyes glint with the first genuine spark of interest tonight. “Absolutely.”
twenty-eight
It’s Halloween.And normally, I’d be dressed up, ready to party. On some fraternity brother’s arm. Hoping I pleased him enough that he’d want me to be his appointed.
Not tonight. I’ve turned into the rebel I always hated, except now…
I finallylikemyself.
But I do hate being late. It’s unladylike. Not something anappointedwould do. That’s my first thought.
