Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Nothing. He’s a pot stirrer.” Ethan shakes it off, then nudges me toward the entrance.
It’s cold, and a light snow has started to fall. Our first snowfall of the year is here and although it’ll only be a few inches, it’s the official start to winter in Sinistral, which means long, cold but beautiful months along New England’s coast.
“No, tell me, what did he mean?”
“Just what’s been happening already. Dad took over for both of them. He was forced to. And he’ll need to make changes. Everything has changed now, you know?”
“What do you mean? What changes?”
“Look, if you’re worried about your inheritance, what’s mine is yours. You know that.”
I look up at him. “I’m not worried about any inheritance. I don’t have an inheritance. I know that. Dad’s vision to not let any man, woman, or child sleep on the street a single night, what happens to that?”
A couple walking to their car glances our way. “Lower your voice, Phee. You’re causing a scene.” He draws me toward the entrance. “I’m fucking freezing out here.”
“Ethan. What does your dad intend to do?”
He sighs, faces me. “The money that’s gone, that your dad stole, is coming out of the low-income projects. We can’t afford to keep those going and expect to turn any kind of profit.”
“Profit? What about—”
“Christ, drop it already. I said it’s enough.” He shakes me once. “You think your father is some knight in shining armor, but there’s a reason he’s behind bars.”
I stare up at him, open mouthed. Do I believe that in my heart? That my father is a thief? I know Horatio Hart. I know him, don’t I?
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ethan says, hugging me to him and rubbing my back. “I love you, and I’ll take care of you, you know that, right? No prenup, no nothing so you know it’s real, what I’m saying. Come on, my parents will be waiting. Let’s go in, okay?”
I nod, stunned and shocked and freezing. “I just need a minute,” I say once we get inside the beautiful little restaurant. I see Mr. and Mrs. Fox already seated by a roaring fire, him sipping from his wine glass, her drinking her vodka martini with its single olive.
“Yeah, go ahead. Fix yourself up. Make yourself pretty. I’ll explain this beauty,” he says, pointing to his chin. He pulls me in and kisses my forehead.
I force a smile and hurry into the bathroom before I lose it.
4
SILAS
Ipeel out of the cul-de-sac, punching the steering wheel repeatedly as I floor the gas pedal to get away from there. From that house. From the two of them together like that.
She’s right. I don’t belong there. I know it. I’ve always known it. But for her to say it? It stings.
Ethan is a little fucking cunt. He’s not worth the time of day. I know that, too. He’s certainly not worth the upset he causes, but the motherfucker can get under my skin, and that’s the thing I can’t fucking stand.
There was a part of me once, a long time ago, that had thought there was something to salvage in the kid. That I should try. Living in the same house as them, I saw what went on. The things Sly did, the way he kept order. But there’s nothing to salvage. He is his father’s son.
Flakes of snow float down from the sky, melting the instant they hit my windshield. Winter has arrived in Sinistral.
I don’t have to be here for it. I can go anywhere I want. Do anything I want to do. Why the fuck I come back, I never know, but I can’t seem to fucking stay away. Even after years pass, I always come back. Even knowing there’s a chance I’ll run into Ophelia. Hell, maybe that’s the reason I do it.
This time, though, is different. This time, I’m here to take from Sullivan Fox.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Truth is, Horatio doing the about-face on that plea deal that leaves everything to Sly, it stinks, and for some goddamn reason, I can’t seem to mind my own fucking business when it comes to Ophelia Hart.
I get to the turn that leads into town. Contrary to what I insinuated to Ophelia and her asshole fiancé, the only thing waiting for me at my hotel is a bottle of whiskey. I consider for all of a second before I change my mind and swerve left out of town. Screams of horns chase me as I cross double lanes and cut off three cars. It’s late. I probably shouldn’t be heading to the cliffs with the weather coming in, but I’m here, and wouldn’t I be a hypocrite if I condemn Ophelia for not visiting her dad when I’m just an hour away and don’t visit Mom?