“Caelian!” he screams, growing more frantic and desperate. “This ain’t funny. Put me down!”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking about it,” I muse aloud, ignoring his pleas. “You could be attempting to manipulate me by making me think it’s Nero out to get me. But really it’s you forcing my hand to be involved in your war.”
“Put me down! Put me down!”
“Then again, you’re not crafty enough. We’re talking about somebody so fucking sloppy, he dribbles brandy all over himself when he drinks. It’s a miracle you’ve risen as high as you have and lasted as long as you have. Maybe all the drugs and alcohol killed too many of your brain cells.”
“Put me down!”
“Tell me the truth!” I rumble, drowning him out. I tip him over the railing a couple more inches ’til I’m the only thing anchoring him. It’d take only one more heave to lift him the rest of the way over.
“You want the truth?” he gasps, flailing. “You want the truth? How about you look to your fucking shrimpy ballerina that you call a wife—ask her all about the shit that’s going down! If you knew… if you only knew… all the ways I protected you from them!”
“WHO?!”
“Put me down!”
“Tell me who!”
“I told you! Your bitch of a wife—NO! NOOO!”
It’s the final plea he gives before I do it. With a grunt, I give him a push over the railing. The last few inches of his body slip out of my grasp as he flips over. For a second that feels longer than it really is, he’s airborne. He’s flying past the railing, and then in the next second, he’s falling fast.
His body collides with the pavement down below, producing a violentthump.
It’s debatable if they even heard his scream. He’d choked on his own breath on the way down.
I peer over the balcony to admire the damage. He lays bent at odd angles, his foot twitching. Blood begins pooling.
I don’t go to check on him and don’t say another word to anybody. I leave like I came, striding through his large mansion unchecked and unbothered by any of his men I encounter. It’s as I’m walking out the front door that I finally catch snippets of the commotion starting.
They’ve found him out on the pavement below his balcony.
Not in time to stop me as I get in my Audi and speed off into the night. I’m operating off pure adrenaline driving thetwo hours into the mountains where my estate is located. It’s minutes after four in the morning by the time I’m pulling up.
I enter the home in the dark without bother to flick on the light.
The light would only ruin my next move. I’ve made good on my word I’d make Pa pay for the lies and schemes he’s been pulling. Now I’ll make good on finding out for myself if Ms. Poitier is truly the rat she seems to be.
There’s just one problem.
As I approach the doors that take you out to the terrace where Ms. Poitier’s been sneaking out at night, I discover I’m not alone.
Mia bella ballerina had the same idea.
TWENTY-ONE
Nevaeh
I’d screamif Caelian didn’t promptly cover my mouth to silence me. The paralyzing streak of terror only lasts for a few seconds. Then I feel the solid wall behind me and the familiar touch of only one person, and all fear vanishes.
Caelian’s home.
I’m able to half twist around before he subdues me with ease. Holding me where I am, he rumbles out the same question I’m wondering.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to get home!”
