house.” My father stood and came around the chair to stand by my side.
Vinemont finally tore his gaze from me and glowered at my father. “Are you certain, Mr. Rousseau? You do realize that a Louisiana prison is hell on earth as it is, but I have ways to make it even more unbearable. Cell mates and such? It would be a shame for you to get paired with a violent—or amorous—sort, especially at your age. You wouldn’t last long. Maybe a month or two until you broke. And after you’re broken, well, let’s just say the prison system isn’t exactly known for spending medical dollars on old, decrepit thieves.”
“Get out!” My father’s voice rang out stronger than I’d ever heard it, even as he trembled next to me.
Vinemont’s smile never faltered. “Fine. See you in court.”
He tucked the papers back into his coat, rose, and strode from the room. Confidence permeated his movements as he stalked out like some big, dangerous animal. The sureness of his words, the conviction of his gait left me feeling at once chilled yet burning to know why he’d come.
What the hell is going on?
When he was gone, I was finally able to take a full breath. I clutched the back of the chair. “What was that?”
My father pulled me into his chest, his familiar smell of tobacco and books cutting through Vinemont’s more seductive scent. He was quaking violently. “No. Nothing. Forget about it. About him.”
“What did he want? What was in those papers?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. If it has anything to do with you, I don’t want it. I don’t want him near you.”
I leaned away and looked into my father’s eyes. He didn’t meet my gaze, only watched the fire behind me the same way he would stare into my paintings. He studied something far away, past the flames and the bricks and the mortar.
Fatigue was written in every line on his face. Not even the flickering orange glow could hide how drained, how frightened he truly was. He hadn’t looked this haunted since the night he found me lying on the floor, almost two years ago. I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase his fear and the memories from my mind.
He let out a labored groan and fell back against the chair.
“Dylan!” I called.
My stepbrother appeared in the doorway within moments. “What’s going on? Was that the dick prosecutor I passed in the hall?”
“It doesn’t matter, just please help Dad to his room. He needs to rest.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Dad clutched me to him again, his grasp weaker, fading. “I love you, Stella. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens tomorrow.”
I forced my heart to stay together. If it shattered, I would be of no use. I couldn’t become a quivering heap of regret, not yet. Not until I found out what Sinclair Vinemont wanted from me.
Buy Counsellor
The Complete Trilogy Now Available
Counsellor , Magnate , & Sovereign
Vinemont finally tore his gaze from me and glowered at my father. “Are you certain, Mr. Rousseau? You do realize that a Louisiana prison is hell on earth as it is, but I have ways to make it even more unbearable. Cell mates and such? It would be a shame for you to get paired with a violent—or amorous—sort, especially at your age. You wouldn’t last long. Maybe a month or two until you broke. And after you’re broken, well, let’s just say the prison system isn’t exactly known for spending medical dollars on old, decrepit thieves.”
“Get out!” My father’s voice rang out stronger than I’d ever heard it, even as he trembled next to me.
Vinemont’s smile never faltered. “Fine. See you in court.”
He tucked the papers back into his coat, rose, and strode from the room. Confidence permeated his movements as he stalked out like some big, dangerous animal. The sureness of his words, the conviction of his gait left me feeling at once chilled yet burning to know why he’d come.
What the hell is going on?
When he was gone, I was finally able to take a full breath. I clutched the back of the chair. “What was that?”
My father pulled me into his chest, his familiar smell of tobacco and books cutting through Vinemont’s more seductive scent. He was quaking violently. “No. Nothing. Forget about it. About him.”
“What did he want? What was in those papers?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. If it has anything to do with you, I don’t want it. I don’t want him near you.”
I leaned away and looked into my father’s eyes. He didn’t meet my gaze, only watched the fire behind me the same way he would stare into my paintings. He studied something far away, past the flames and the bricks and the mortar.
Fatigue was written in every line on his face. Not even the flickering orange glow could hide how drained, how frightened he truly was. He hadn’t looked this haunted since the night he found me lying on the floor, almost two years ago. I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase his fear and the memories from my mind.
He let out a labored groan and fell back against the chair.
“Dylan!” I called.
My stepbrother appeared in the doorway within moments. “What’s going on? Was that the dick prosecutor I passed in the hall?”
“It doesn’t matter, just please help Dad to his room. He needs to rest.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Dad clutched me to him again, his grasp weaker, fading. “I love you, Stella. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens tomorrow.”
I forced my heart to stay together. If it shattered, I would be of no use. I couldn’t become a quivering heap of regret, not yet. Not until I found out what Sinclair Vinemont wanted from me.
Buy Counsellor
The Complete Trilogy Now Available
Counsellor , Magnate , & Sovereign
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