Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) by Addison Moore Page B

myself against it. God almighty, have I missed this man.
    “I’m sorry, Ken.”
    “Don’t be. Unless of course you’re the one who uploaded them. If so, you should literally be crawling for forgiveness. I have a very nasty plan of retribution to set in motion for that person— Keith .” His name comes out in hardly a whisper. It’s like spewing a demon’s name in the presence of a god, you just don’t do it.
    “No.” He shakes his head. His eyes squint with regret at the idea. “Don’t do that. No reason to add fuel to the fire. I’ve already contacted his attorney.”
    “What?” A wave of shock tingles through my limbs. “So he’s lawyered up?” A happy bark of a laugh escapes me. The thought of Keith writhing in agony fessing up to his parents, his phony of a mother who of course would insist they hire only the best! I almost want to laugh. I have the best, and the best is Caleb.
    “Yes.” He takes a careful step toward me. The definition in his face cuts in deeper, created by the shadows of the overhead lights. “Kennedy, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls. My feet feel as if they’re floating. I’m not certain what’s going to come from his lips, but it feels as if the trajectory of the last few weeks has been ramping up this entire time, building to something unbelievably horrific. “The attorney he hired is a man named David Stokes.” He nods as if it should ring a bell. “You know who that is, right?”
    “David Stokes?” I breathe his name with a sigh of relief. “No, can’t say that I do. For a second there I thought you were going to say Peter Slade.” I fan myself with the spatula before flipping the fish and turning down the flame. “You might want to stir the green beans,” I say, plucking a wooden spoon from a ceramic jar and doing it myself.
    “Kennedy,” Caleb whispers my name from behind, so dangerously close it sears my neck like a warning. He reaches over and turns the stove down before slowly spinning me into him. He drills into me with his sorrowful gaze, his eyes a midnight blue as if in mourning. “David Stokes is your father’s partner.” His voice is somber and quietly sweet. “Trust me, this is just as damning.”
    A slap of numbness rides through me before dissipating as quick as it came.
    “Okay,” I say it slow, trying to ingest the idea. “My father’s firm is one of the best in the country, but doesn’t this fall in line with unprofessional conduct or break some kind of code of ethics?” That curdling anger that I only reserved for my cheat of a father floats to the surface, rising behind my eyes until all I see is red.
    “No, actually, it doesn’t. In fact, your father had to clear it. Look, I just wanted to give you all the facts, no surprises. I’m your attorney. They’re insistent he had nothing to do with the upload.” He swallows hard. A sign of more bad news to come. “Keith says this is some kind of a set up. That you’ve done all this to make him look bad.”
    “Ha!” An angry caw of a laugh escapes me. Most people whine or cry, but I only seem to know anger and rage—vindictive laughter in lieu of the real thing. My mother taught me those very attributes while she underwent her own grueling public scandal, her walking-through-hellfire-barefoot divorce. She says my father took her to the cleaners, but, really, she walked away as penniless as the day she arrived, plus one out of two daughters in tow. “You don’t believe him do you?” I force myself to sound as incredulous as possible. When your ethos are all jacked up, you tend to lose a little credibility when you need it most. “Why? Why would I destroy my own life to make him look bad? He’s delirious!” I wield the spatula like a weapon, and Caleb gently removes it from my hand. His dimples press in as if suddenly this were funny.
    “Are you hungry?” The warmth from his body floats to mine, and desperately I want to press