Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             “You seem familiar.” His eyes squint. “Have I seen you somewhere?”

                             I didn’t want to take it this far, but hell. Who cares if I introduce myself to the family of the girl I kidnapped? I reach inside my jacket and pull a business card before handing it to him. “My name is Aaron Rhodes.”

                             He eyes the card. “Rhodes & Hart, Rhodes?”

                             Not to be arrogant— although probably yes— but everyone in the business world knows about our family’s conglomerate. We trade and deal in almost everything, from stocks to banking to imports, exports, cars, and even medical equipment. So whoever works in economic should be aware of us.

                             I smile. “Indeed.”

                             “I knew you looked familiar.” Mae’s father’s smiles. “You’re Arthur’s son. A spitting image of him.’”

                             That’s the worst thing anyone can tell me. But since I’ve taken his only daughter, we’ll call it even.

                             I force a smile. “Thank you, Mr...?”

                             “William Wilson.” He offers his hand and I take it for a brief shake. “I went to college with your father. He always came the top of the class no matter how hard I worked.”

                             ‘Tell him that neurotypical people can never measure up to us, Son.’ Father laughs. ‘They will always run over by superior humans like us.’

                             I maintain my smile. “Yes, he was quite competitive.”

                             Someone choke me. I’m talking about my father. With Mae’s father no less.

                             Isn’t he supposed to be grieving? His wife is half dead, why is he chatting about an old colleague?

                             The same blueness of Mae’s eyes cloud as he holds eye contact. “I heard about the fire. I am sorry for your loss.”

                             “Thank you, Mr Wilson.” I nod at him and his wife. She seems to be more preoccupied with Mae’s painting than the conversation at hand. Her lost gaze suggests she’s seeing her daughter in there.

                             “It was nice to meet you,” William says.

                             “Call me if you need anything, Mr Wilson.” I nod again. “If you shall excuse me.”

                             I steal one last glance at the dark mystical painting then walk out of the gallery. As I push the door, I catch a glimpse of a group of Mae’s friends rushing to her parents. They don’t look so well. Like Mae’s mother, they could use some food in their system.

                             Freezing air refreshes my senses. I curse whatever made me come here.

                             So many slips as of late. The worst part is that I have no idea how to stop them.

                             ‘You do, Aaron. You just refuse to admit it.’

                             Shut it, demons. Not another word.

                             My feet itch to kick or crush something. Right here. In public. But I can’t. Because image is damn important.