Victor's right about one thing—I am different from the other Consortium members.
But not in a good way.
They're honest about what they are. About what they want. About the cruelty of their ownership.
I'm lying. To Eden. To myself. To everyone.
Telling her she has choices while engineering every decision.
Telling her I'm helping her heal while preparing her for a gathering where she'll be expected to demonstrate her submission to an audience of predators.
Telling her she's safe with me while knowing that in three weeks, I'll either have to expose her to the Consortium or burn every bridge I have with the organization that could destroy my business and reputation with a few well-placed phone calls.
I drain the scotch.
Make another decision.
Three weeks is a long time.
A lot can happen in three weeks.
Maybe I can make Eden understand before then.
Maybe I can prepare her without breaking her.
Maybe I can find a way to satisfy the Consortium's expectations without completely destroying the fragile trust we're building.
Or maybe I'll have to choose.
Between the inner circle and Eden.
Between power and... whatever this is becoming.
But that's a problem for future Vaughn.
Right now, I have three days to get through.
Three days before I offer to touch her again.
Three days to be patient while Victor's deadline looms in the background.
I can do this.
I have to.
Morning comes too soon.
I'm in the kitchen by seven-thirty, coffee in hand, newspaper open, trying to look casual and composed instead of exhausted and wired from lack of sleep.
Trying not to think about last night.
About the phone call.
About what happens in three weeks.
Trying to focus on the three days ahead and what they might bring.
Mrs. Silva gives me a knowing look as she sets down my breakfast. "You look tired, Mr. Sutherland."
