“Lives are always complicated, Matilda. Happiness doesn’t seem to care. But, then, I am so much older than you.”
“You’re older than almost everyone.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
I shrugged. “I think I’d like an experienced man.”
“You say this because of all the experienced men you’ve had in your life?”
“No. I say that because I haven’t had any experienced man in my life. Or,” I said, “any man in my life.”
His head pulled up and he leaned back on an exhale. “You’ve never . . . had a boyfriend?”
“Hello? Living on a farm, staying off grid and as far away from civilization as possible. Also, stitched, so even if I did meet someone, I’d be a monster. Not human enough for that sort of thing.”
The chime of exit warning rang out and Abraham tapped the screens, closing the camera feeds and preparing to take over the driving again.
“You are not a monster,” he said, giving me a smoldering gaze. “Not even close.”
“That’s nice of you to say so. But look who’s talking.”
That got a smile out of him. “The voice of experience,” he said. “You should listen to it.”
“Should I?”
“I promise I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”
And there it was again, that smile, that heat. A blush crept across my face and neck, which only made Abraham smile wider.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
“It is,” I said, while my heart pounded too hard for just those simple words. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Then the pod deposited us in the queue to the exit ramp, and a call came in.
Abraham shifted, his shoulders pulling back and his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He drove the car down a side alley and opened the message.
“Who is it from?” I asked.
“Slater Orange.” He frowned.
“House Orange? What does he want?”
“For me to attend him. Immediately.” He closed the message and swore, scowling out at the city and shifting crowd of people who moved by, paying our dark-windowed car no attention.
“Do you think it’s because of what happened with Robert?” I asked.
“Probably.”
“When does he want you there?”
“Immediately. The moment the message is sent, a countdown begins. If it takes me a minute more than allowed to reach him, there will be tension between our Houses. Debts owed.”
“That’s a stupid rule.”
“It’s there for a reason. We cut corners in the old days,” he said. “Took our time doing service to the Houses. Sometimes it would take us decades to following through on their summons. So the countdown was implemented.”
