“I didn’t want to hear it earlier because it wasn’t yours to give. The same now.” He leaned forward, setting his beer on the floor before propping his forearms on his thighs. Pinning his bright eyes on her, he said, “And yes, I was mad as fuck and trying to hide it with everything in me so I didn’t end up giving your parents and everyone else at that table the satisfaction of proving I was who they believed. The beast. The thug. The Feral Farrell.”
“You know about that?”
He snorted. “I’m not deaf or blind, Mycah.”
“No, I know that.” She waved her hand, frustrated. “I guess I hoped you hadn’t...”
“My mother always told me, it’s not what they call you, but what you answer to. Your parents or any of the people here in Boston don’t define me.” He paused, studied her, and she fought not to recoil from that incisive stare. Fought not to hide lest it perceive too much. Slice too deep. “So why are you allowing them to dictate who you are?”
“I’m not...” Damn him. She closed her eyes. Hiding. And not caring if he knew it. No, screw that. She reopened them, glared at him. “I told you before that you don’t know me. So stop presuming that you do.”
“Then tell me.”
If he’d scoffed at her, she might’ve left. Might’ve ordered him to fuck off as she stalked out of there in righteous indignation. But his quiet offer full of curiosity, of genuine interest, deflated her anger.
Soothed her hurt.
“In the interview, Cain asked me why I wanted to work for Farrell. The answers I gave—promotion, opportunity, experience—all were true. But he asked the wrong question. It should’ve been why Ineededto work there. Because I do. Ineedthis job.” She huffed out a laugh, holding the cold bottle between both of her palms and rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. “That party my parents threw tonight? Do you know who paid for it? Me. Or I will at the end of the month. Because the monthly allowance that they receive from Hill-Harper will be gone, spent on clothes, jewelry, lunches, spa appointments, gifts for their friends. And it will be up to me to cover the mortgage, household bills, staff salaries and any other outstanding debts they owe. See, my parents deride my career, but they depend on it.”
“You’re enabling them, and they’re taking advantage because they know you’ll pay their way.” He growled, anger radiating off him. “That isn’t love. That isn’t sacrifice.”
She shook her head. “It’s family,” she insisted. “If your mother—”
He slashed a hand through the air, cutting off her argument. “My mother would never have asked that of me. Which is why I would gladly have given her the world if she’d lived. And you know what she would’ve done, Mycah?” He leaned forward, his blue-gray eyes burning into hers. “Told me no. She would’ve fought me on it until I wore her down. C’mere.” He crooked two fingers, beckoning her closer, and she slid forward on the chair cushion. “You don’t even believe the bullshit you’re telling me,” he said, his voice impossibly gentle, brutally blunt.
Tears sprang to her eyes, stinging them.
But then, the truth tended to do that.
Sting.
“What is it, baby?” he whispered. “You’re safe. Tell me.”
The truth grappled with self-preservation in her throat for approximately five seconds before it burst from her.
“Three and a half more years. That’s all I have left. Three and a half more years before my sister graduates from high school and goes to college. Then I’m free. I’m paying for her tuition, and I can’t abandon her. She’s brilliant, Achilles, and deserves the best education possible. I won’t take that away from her, and I can’t lose her. She’s the only real relationship I have. I don’t put it past my parents to prohibit me from seeing her if I stop paying their bills. But in three and a half years, she’ll be through with high school and she’ll be eighteen, an adult. And I’ll have what I’ve dreamed about for years.”
“What have you dreamed of, Mycah?” he pressed when she hesitated.
She threaded her fingers through her curls—or attempted to. Remembering too late the strands were secured in an updo, she clenched her hands tight before dropping them to her thighs.
“Mycah.”
“Freedom.” As the word echoed in the room, she winced, emitting a hushed, embarrassed chuckle. Turning, she set her neglected beer bottle on the side table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “Freedom,” she repeated less vehemently, with a much heavier dose of self-deprecation. “You must think I’m dramatic.”
“You think I don’t understand the need for freedom?”
She jerked her head back to him, shock ricocheting through her.
He slowly nodded. “You know the terms of Barron’s will. By now, everyone does. For most people, it would seem like a dream come true. Co-run a multibillion-dollar company. Instant billionaire. But I never asked for it. Never wanted any of it. And I’m counting down the months, the days until I’m out of here. Out of Boston. Until I’m free from it all.”
He surged from the chair and strode to the window, yanking the tie from his hair on the way. Burrowing both hands through the thick strands, he fisted them, yanking so hard, she winced in sympathy. He splayed his fingers wide on the sheet of glass. As if attempting to reach through it to the sky beyond.
“Do you know the reason I hate the nameFeral Farrellso much?” he rasped. “Because a part of me fears that there’s some truth in it. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy within the confines of this...world. After—” he broke off, his hand balling into a fist against the window, his head bowing between his shoulders “—I left Seattle, I deliberately chose a specific way of life for myself. A quieter life, a simpler one. This one... It’s too loud. Too harsh. Too mean. I know Cain and Kenan think I’m pulling away from them, that I’m distancing myself from them, but I can’t let myself become too attached because I can’t stay here. They were both born here. This is home for them. I don’t belong here.”
She rose and went to him, unable to remain in her chair any longer. Without questioning the wisdom of what she was doing, she crossed the room and didn’t stop until she stood behind him. So close, her forehead pressed into the indentation of his spine. So close, the toes of her stilettos nudged the bare heels of his feet. So close, her hands slipped under the edge of his vest and cupped his slim waist.
Achilles’s body went rigid, but he didn’t move away from her. Taking that as a positive sign, she closed her eyes, breathed him in. Dragged that decadent scent of the outdoors into her lungs and held on to it like a drug. Then as she exhaled, she already craved the next hit.
