Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
I glimpsed in his eyes and saw something more telling than fear.
Emptiness.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Plan B.
ANGEL
Mian was outof time.
Tonight was the night of the ball, and my grandfather was expecting her head. She might have been innocent, but without the book, there was nothing I could do to save her. Her death wasn’t only about the book. It also meant vengeance for Grandfather for his son’s death. I wanted the same, but the eagerness to take her life had faded.
I stared at my mother’s gown. She had an impressive collection, but this one was by far the plainest. The gown was simple, and the color made it a perfect choice for Mian to die in. My mother wouldn’t appreciate one of her expensive pieces being ruined, but she chose to leave it behind along with my father’s memory.
I spent the day holed up in my father’s office trying to come to terms with what would happen tonight. Mian’s insistence that she didn’t steal the book didn’t add up. I threatened her life, her son’s, and her father’s, but she didn’t budge. It was not like her to put self-gain before someone she cared deeply for… even if they were undeserving. My decision to leave her father alive didn’t come easily when I could have so easily had him killed, but it wasn’t the right time. I wanted to look into his eyes when he died so it would be the memory of me that tortured him in hell.
When I couldn’t settle the sense that I was making a mistake, I left my office in search of Z. Lucas had already left to escort my mom from the airport. Even though Victor flew in with her, my mother would expect my interference. In Florida, she was Victor’s wife, but here in Chicago, she was still my father’s widow.
I found Z in the den sitting in complete darkness. The only light came from the laptop he worked on. He looked up when I entered, closed his computer, and set it away with ease. I picked up on his subtle attempt to hide what he was working on and made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“I need a favor from you, brother. Off the record.”
“What’s up?”
I took a seat and stared off into the distance before coming to a decision. “I need your skills to find another answer. I need to know that we’ve ruled out every possibility.”
He was silent for several long moments, and I wondered if he was piecing together what we were asking. When he finally spoke, it was low and hesitant. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I waited for him to explain because I really didn’t understand. “You’re asking me to try to save Mian’s life. Is that really what you want?”
His question all but stopped my beating heart.
Was he right?
Was this one last desperate attempt to spare the life of the girl I could never have? Her death was more than just retribution for a stolen legacy and loss of power. It was retaliation against the man who took my father’s life. It was a score to settle, not just for me, but for Z and Lucas, as well. Art became a father to them the day he took them off the streets.
But looking in Z’s eyes, I didn’t see anger or accusation. I saw understanding I didn’t deserve. I wasn’t Mian’s knight in shining armor. I was her executioner.
Z cleared his throat and turned his laptop toward me. He gestured to the screen that was littered with windows I didn’t understand.
“I was already looking,” he said simply.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When the hour strikes…
MIAN
I was primpedand painted, and this time, when I wore the dress, it hugged my body perfectly. The beading adorning the gown was exquisite. I ran my fingers over the intricate design while Madame Torre fussed and barked orders at the Ricardos. I dreaded what the evening could bring, but was grateful to finally have my body covered, with the exception of my shoulders. The gown was truly beautiful. Black wouldn’t have been my first choice of color, but oddly it didn’t detract.
“Do you like it?” I didn’t turn around to greet the man behind the sinfully deep voice. I wasn’t ready to face him after what he did. “It was my mother’s.”
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted reluctantly.
“I want to see all of you,” he said after Madame Torre and the Ricardos had left, and I kept my back to him. If he were anyone else, I would have blushed at the request, but he wasn’t anyone else, and I knew better. He didn’t seduce. He commanded. I turned carefully in the high black and silver stems and rested my hands on my waist for balance when I caught sight of him looking debonair in a black tux. His hair was perfectly gelled and combed into a fashionable design and the hair on his jaw and chin were freshly trimmed to accentuate his strong jaw.