Like I said, I’m not a saint and never will be.
After all…
Evil and goodness lie in the eye of the beholder.
Another harsh truth I’ve learned from my father.
CHAPTER NINE
“Everything in our life is a choice.
However, the choices we make depend on the traumas we’ve experienced in the past.
And if our traumas rule our subconsciousness…is there an escape from a nightmare that’s your own mind?”
Lavender
Lavender
A long, drawn-out sigh slips past my lips as Gordon parks the car by the massive gates and rolls down the window, greeting one of the young security guards wearing all black, who nods at us. “Hello, Miss Wright.”
The Scotts have guards posted at their mansion as if it were a royal residence. All things considered, they might as well be.
“Hi. How are you, Kenny?”
“I’m good, ma’am. Glad to see you again. Everyone is waiting inside.”
Fear travels down my spine, and my hold on my phone tightens, making me read the message flashing on the screen once again.
Your brothers received my complaint. They need to give us an answer by Monday, or we shall proceed with the lawsuit.
I thought I’d have more time to prepare for this conversation and their tempers, which will for sure blow up in my face, and I didn’t want to see them for the first time during the Scotts’ family dinner.
The past few days, I’ve successfully avoided my family, focusing on my studies or at least pretending to.
When, in fact, I hid in the library, keeping my back to the wall all the time, expecting Levi to pop up and do something dangerous.
The familiar tremor now rushes through my system, and I fist the skirt of my dress, begging my galloping heart to calm down because I should never have this strong of a reaction to someone who almost strangled me.
Dr. King once said I might not find older men attractive because authoritarian older men ruined my life due to their greed and perverted desires. I never got the chance to date anyone my own age, and, experience-wise, I’m miles behind the men in their thirties, so I might find younger men more suitable for me. According to her, it might be easier for me to connect with them or even relate to their struggles.
I don’t think she meant for me to lust after a twenty-year-old guy who hates me and puts his hands on me, though.
Kenny whistles to another security guard. “Joe, open the gates.” They both share a handshake with Gordon. “Good to see you again, man. Come to our cubicle once you drop Miss Wright off. We have a new pool going on. You might like this one.”
“Will do.”
I shake my head, stifling back a laugh because Gordon fits right into our family for his competitive nature alone. The man loves all kinds of bets and participates in them, however small or large they might be.
“Some people might consider it a sin,” I tease him since he hides this little fact from his wife, and they’ve been married for forty years.
He chuckles. “I’ll try not to burn in church tomorrow.”
“Go ahead!” Joe shouts just as the loud screeching of the iron gates opening rings in the air.
Gordon drives onto the long, narrow driveway leading to the huge, wide, brick building spread across the massive landscape located on the outskirts of the city.
My stomach flips from the buzzing, dangerous energy enveloping me from head to toe, and I sit up straight, practically gluing my nose to the window as I study the unique, gorgeous architecture of the Scotts’ mansion, which has the power to mesmerize the dead.
