Page 5 of My Dark Ever After
Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words to repair my relationship with my father and risk permanently deleting all hope of Raffa from my heart.
“I won’t do that,” I said finally. “That shouldn’t be what this hinges on. If I go again—which I do not intend to do at all right now—then I’ll give you the courtesy and respect of telling you. But I won’t make that promise. It’s my life, and I have to be able to do as I please. Maybe you can’t understand that, but after being sick and sheltered for so long, I need this independence. Even though what happened in Tuscany changed me, it wasn’t for the worse. I’m stronger now. And part of being strong means assuming responsibility for myself instead of hiding behind my parents. Even when I love them.”
Dad stared at me, throat working as he swallowed convulsively. When he spoke, he stared at his open palms as if they held the secrets to the universe. “I should have realized before this.”
“Realized what?”
His gaze snapped to mine, dark eyes the same shape as my own and filled with fire. “That you are too much like me to understand how to put aside your pride and make the right decision.”
Without waiting for a reply, he pushed out of the chair and stalked out of the conference room. I watched with tears drying tight on my skin as he went to his corner office and then reemerged a moment later in his coat and scarf, with his briefcase.
He did not spare me a look as he left the offices.
The only thing that remained in his wake was the cold, dark office and the pile of numbers I had been trying to drown myself in. Left with nothing else to do, I dove right back in and hoped the clarity of mathematics would clear my tumultuous soul.
Chapter Two
Guinevere
When working failed to distract me, I scrubbed a hand over my face and collected my files, phone, and computer to pack away in my messenger bag. It was almost midnight, and even though I knew sleep would elude me, as it had for weeks, it was clear my mind was too distracted to get any work done. I could go home to the little apartment I’d rented above an antique shop near the U and binge-watch a few episodes ofSlow Horsesuntil my body gave in to sleep.
The building was so silent it almost hummed, a sentient emptiness that felt like a haunting. It spooked me even though I told myself I was being silly. There was a night guard in the lobby downstairs, and you needed a pass to get to any of the levels. The only ghosts between these walls were my own.
But when the elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor instead of going straight to the basement parking garage, I was surprised. Even though we shared space with a number of high-profile businesses, it wasn’t usual for people to stay that late working.
Unless, like mine, their lives were imploding.
When the doors parted to reveal a relatively young man in a sharp suit, with a surprised, warm smile, I shouldn’t have felt cornered likean animal in the dark. It wasn’t even anything he did––nicely dressed, briefcase under one arm, that big, white-toothed smile to put me at ease.
It was something in me that rankled, something that Raffa had ignited.
Paranoia, maybe.
Or a heightened sense of self-preservation.
“Good evening,” the gentleman acknowledged as he stepped into the elevator.
Without really processing why, I shuffled closer to the doors, and then, just as they were closing, I slipped out. When I turned back to the doors, I caught a glimpse of the man inside frowning at me before the metal closed.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, and I took a deep breath before pushing the button to call another elevator to the floor.
It only took another moment, but when it opened, there was another man inside.
The same man I had seen jogging in the park, loitering by the offices, inside the lobby this morning. Mr. Kirkpatrick.
“Hello, Guinevere,” he greeted me casually.
But there was nothing usual about a client being in the building at that hour.
I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in or if he’d never left, hiding somewhere in the multistory tower until he knew I was alone.
“I’ll catch the next one,” I said, stepping back a little with a tremulous smile, trying to keep a level head even as my heart thumped rabbit-quick against my rib cage.
“I think you’ll take this one,” someone suggested behind me.
I whirled to find the man from the first elevator standing there, slightly out of breath, no doubt from running up the stairs to get back to my level. In one steady, raised hand, he held a matte black gun.
Fuck.
