Liars and Liaisons by Sav R. Miller
37
“I wantto go back with you.”
Kal exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. We were going to leave Violet’s mother at her home, after the very brief and unsettling revelation that she knew who we were. Or rather, knew him despite her daughter’s clear belief that Kal’s existence was a secret.
But she hopped in her own vehicle and followed us to the small airport and refuses to leave the runway.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kal says.
The woman—whose name we’ve learned is Amelia, as evidenced by the ER badge she keeps strapped to her waist—crosses her arms over her chest. “I understand you’re… upset, dear, but that’s no reason to keep me from going to see my daughter. If you don’t take me, I’ll just get on another plane and show up anyway.”
Still, he stands in the jet’s doorway, barring her entry. Emotion, cold and distant, wars on the man’s face as he studies her.
“Violet’s going to want to know the woman’s safe,” I say from behind her. “Might as well cut out the waiting time and let her tag along.”
Jaw clenched, he turns that deathly-still stare my way. I just lift my hands, ready to get back home to my woman so I can drag her away from the estate until I end things with my family once and for all. According to Priya, she just spotted Nathaniel leaving DFA Records in New York, so I know I at least have a little time before he comes sniffing back around the property, trying to do more damage than he already has.
As if ruining Sydney’s life with his lies and empty promises wasn’t enough. Now, he’s stepped into full-on attacks, aiming to shut me down and take everything I love in the process.
But that’s okay because I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to strike. Those who enabled Sydney to abandon her music and craft have all paid for their sins; now, it’s time for Nathaniel and my father to take accountability for their roles.
She’d still be here if they hadn’t encouraged her to sign with one of their labels. Aiden barely got out himself when he left Symposium a few years back, and he has grit and survival in his genes.
They paraded her around at events, lauding her singing voice as a talent like no other, just to make the competition jealous. Her peers became envious, wanting the treatment she received from Nathaniel and my father, so they indulged her habits. The parties, the drugs, the sex.
All things I later forced them to indulge in until it killed them.
Sydney hadn’t been prepared. I’d failed to properly prepare her, and the world of the rich and the famous and the glitz it promised… it had eaten her alive.
It’s been eating me ever since.
Half an hour later, we’re taxiing off Goldengrove’s tiny runway, and then we’re thirty thousand feet in the air, heading back to Duris. I frown at the last three of my texts to Violet that have bounced back as undeliverable, but figure the internet connection is just poor this high up, no matter how luxurious the jet is.
Amelia sits toward the bar, chatting with Kal’s redheaded assistant. He sits in the chair across from me again, a tumbler of whiskey clenched tight in his fist. Glaring.
“You’ll get wrinkles that way,” I say, turning my phone in my hands.
“I’m almost forty. I’ll live.”
“Not interested in trying to look younger for the missus back home?”
He takes a sip of his drink, swallowing. “I don’t like you.”
Smothering a shit-eating grin, I lean my head back against the leather seat and shrug. “You’ll learn to. I’m an acquired taste.”
“Are you interested in my Violet?”
We turn to find Amelia leaning over her armrest, blue eyes fixated on me.
“She’s not a car I’m looking at buying, so, no, I wouldn’t say I’m interested.” I check my phone again, my chest deflating when my messages still haven’t been sent, sending anxiety spiraling through my veins. “I am, however, your future son-in-law.”
She gives me a slow once-over. I wonder if she’s trying to assess if I have money and how she can get her hands on it, just like her husband.
Finally, she asks, “Do you have tillable land? Places she can plant flowers and raise vegetables?”
I nod, my brows furrowing. “Whatever I don’t have, I can get her.”
“Do you love her?” A pause. “Would you love her, no matter what? Even if… if she developed a gambling addiction and couldn’t stop spending your money? Or if she had an affair and wound up pregnant with another man’s child and then abandoned that child because she was too afraid of owning up to her mistake?”
My hands curl into fists. I’d tear out the spines of anyone she ever dared to smile at, but I’m not sure I should mention that to her mother.
Besides, the way Kal’s jaw works, it doesn’t feel like that adage is really for me. I don’t know their exact history, but Violet did say Kal was the product of her father’s affair, so it’s not difficult to put the pieces together.
Not for him either, it appears. A muscle works slowly in his jaw, and I wonder if his head ever aches for days after clenching. The way mine does when I’ve gone too long without playing a few chords on the piano.
Eventually, I nod at Amelia. “There’s nothing she could do that would make me stop loving her. It’s… instinctual. My soul is bound to hers.” Even if she doesn’t exactly know it. “I’d be content to just exist in her orbit.”
“Good.” She sits back, folding her hands in her lap. “Then, you have my blessing.”
I’m half-tempted to point out that I didn’t ask and don’t need it, but then her gaze slides to Kal’s stone-faced form, and I keep quiet. She opens her mouth, clearly contemplating speaking to him, but ultimately closes it and rests her chin in one hand.
Good. I don’t want to be in the middle of a reconciliation—or otherwise. They’ll work out their issues whenever they have a chance to. Or maybe they won’t. I don’t know or care. It’s not my problem.
The only thing on my mind at all is getting back to my Little Echo as quickly as possible. Taking her away from Duris and keeping her safe.
Then, I’ll find Nathaniel and cut out his tongue for threatening her. I’ll rip off his fingernails and force-feed them to him and then remove each finger after the agony makes him pass out.
I don’t think I’ll feed him to my goats though. They deserve a better, more balanced meal. Plus, Violet’s been feeding them, so they won’t be particularly starved for anything I throw their way.
But maybe I’ll hog-tie him and toss him in the barn with them anyway. Let them urinate and defecate on him before I inject a beautiful cocktail of lethal street drugs into his system. Just to watch him go out the way Sydney did.
The rest of the flight is tense, but luckily over soon enough. As soon as we’ve unloaded at Boston Logan, a call comes through my cell, and I swipe it open immediately. Dread fills my chest before she’s even spoken.
“There’s a fire at the estate,” Riley rushes out, her words almost blurring with how quickly she speaks. “I just got the alert that emergency crews are on their way.”
Nausea clogs my throat. “Why am I just now being told?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for the last forty minutes. The cell towers must be fucked up or something. None of my calls have been going through to you, and my cameras have been struggling to stay online.”
I consider that. “So, you don’t have eyes on the estate?”
“No, I have eyes on it. Please, I’m not an amateur. That’s why I’m telling you that your barn is on fire and I can’t reach the people inside the house.”
Swearing under my breath, end the call and scan the curb outside for Janus or Arsen, coming up empty. With their absence, I make a mental note to fire them later.
Behind me, Kal snaps his fingers to get my attention. A valet attendant brings forward a blacked-out GMC, and his assistant hops behind the wheel while he takes the passenger seat. Amelia and I climb in the back, neither of us bothering to buckle as the redhead peels out of the airport.
It’s a solid two-hour drive to the estate, and now, I’m struggling to focus on anything other than getting back and getting Violet out. We’ve not had rain in over a week, and those trees are kindling, even when the ground is wet.
Shooting a quick text to Priya, I ask if she’s seen Nathaniel.
Priya: Yes. He’s very boring. A jog through Central Park, coffee and scones, and then picking up dry cleaning. Not sure this is the guy you need to worry about.
Frowning at the screen, I reply with flying thumbs.
Me: What do you mean I don’t need to worry about him?
Priya: No one’s seen or heard from him since this morning.
