I touched his knuckles, sickness and dread swimming in my veins. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
He froze. “Saw who?”
I sighed heavily as my mother appeared in my mind. She’d been here. She’d lived through everything I had—a carbon copy of myself. “A woman with shoulder-length black hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones.” My voice trailed to a whisper. “I’ve been told we look similar...you don’t need to deny it. You saw my mother.”
The man swallowed. “I don’t think I’m allowed to talk about the past, Miss.” His eyes shot upward to the office. “Shit.”
His curse was out of character. I looked up.
My heart fell into my toes.
Jethro.
He stood on the metal staircase, halfway down. One hand on the banister, the other in his trouser pocket. His requisite diamond pin glinted on his lapel looking small compared to the size of some of the stones surrounding us. The lights dazzled, causing his golden eyes to sparkle like the champagne diamonds on the tray before me—just as unique and perfectly cold. Unlike the diamond I’d held, there was nothing flawed about this man.
Apart from his mind, of course.
The more time I spent with him, the more confident I was that Jethro and I were the same in that respect.
I had a physical imbalance. My body hadn’t mastered the art of equilibrium and occasionally malfunctioned. Jethro, on the other hand, had a mental imbalance but in what I hadn’t figured out.
You have a sneaking suspicion, though.
Ever since speaking to Vaughn when we watched one line instead of two appear on the pregnancy test, I’d wondered. Could it be that obvious? Or that surprising?
I need to see Jasmine again.
I hadn’t forgotten the way she’d sobbed as I left—not for me, but her brother. She knew everything, and it was time she shared that knowledge.
Jethro descended the stairs, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Best move along,” the man whispered.
I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I couldn’t move.
Jethro glided toward us, his gaze narrowed against the glare of the lights.
“Are you enjoying your time inspecting the merchandise, Ms. Weaver?” Jethro smiled curtly at the man beside me. “Christopher, I hope you are indulging my guest’s every whim.”
Christopher swallowed, a droplet of sweat running down his naked chest. “Um, yes, sir.” He shot me a glance, awkwardness all over his face.
I felt sorry for him but furious for my mother. Grabbing Jethro’s arm, Ipulled him away from Christopher’s table. Anger bubbled in my veins. “He was kind and helpful and under no circumstances will you discipline him, but he told me something interesting.” Looping my fingers beneath my choker, I growled, “He said he’d seen my collar before.”
Jethro stopped breathing.
“I’m assuming that meant my mother was brought here.”
He didn’t reply.
“She was given the same privileges, wasn’t she? Because everything she learned was destroyed when Cut took her life.”
He balled his hands.
Suddenly, it was all too much. I sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t force you to talk. I won’t ever attempt to make you do anything again. Can we just leave? I want to go home.”
The minute I said it, visions of my quarters at Hawksridge came to mind...not home in London with Vaughn. I groaned under my breath. Even my memories had replaced my past with all things Hawk.
Jethro still didn’t say a word, his pale skin growing whiter the longer he stared.
