Page 42 of Wicked Titan

For a second, I see a glimpse of something. Insecurity? Uncertainty? But before I can decide, the mask of arrogance he’s perfected returns, his voice dropping a notch as he speaks. “You’d be surprised how resourceful I can be.”

Returning my gaze to my car, I sit in silence until Asher hops off the counter. He stands in front of me, blocking my view of the broken-down car.

“Staring at it won’t make it run. Let’s get to work.” Wrapping his fingers around my ankles, he tugs me forward. I slide to the edge of the metal counter, my hands press against his chest to steady myself.

His palms smooth up my thighs as he stands between my legs, pressing into me. I grip the soft material of his cotton T-shirt, pulling him closer. He licks my lip briefly before grazing it with his teeth. “I thought a taste would appease me, but it only made me crave more, Weakling.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.” A seductive chuckle vibrates on my skin as his tongue trails down my neck before playfully nipping at my shoulder.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Never claimed differently.” His hands grip my hips, lifting me off the counter before setting me down, my bare feet landing on the smooth concrete. “Let’s get this thing running.”

“No,” I say flatly, watching as he opens the driver’s door, reaches in to pull the lever, and releases the hood latch. It pops up an inch with a creak.

He moves on the side of the ’Vette fluidly, easily pulling the hood open before I register that he’s actually serious. My dad was supposed to get it running, not Asher.

“Do not touch my car.” Stomping over, I move in front of him in a wretched display of protectiveness. Forcing him back as best as I can, I slam the hood shut as hard as I can.

I spin, pressing against the car in an attempt to gain some leverage in order to push Asher back farther, but he’s solid, an unmoving force. Anger surges through me.

“You are not fixing it.” My chest rises and falls rapidly, my heart pounding against my chest.

“He’s not coming back.” The detached tone and abrupt delivery hits me harder than it should.

“You don’t know anything about it.” I go to step around him, but his hand grips my arm, holding me in place.

“Your dad is not coming back.” His voice is cruel, heartless as the words slice through me.

A sharp breath is pulled from my lungs as my hand slaps hard across his face. “Get out!”

He rubs his hand across his face. “That shit is getting old, Weakling.”

“Then stop giving me a reason to do it.” Before Asher, I’d never slapped a person in my entire life. Now, I’ve slapped him twice. That should tell him something … or maybe it says more about me.

Hurrying away, I run out of the garage, sucking in a deep breath as the night air hits my face. I need to get far away from Asher and the mocking charm that glistens through the undamaged windshield of an overpriced car, reminding me that not everything is possible. At least not the thing I want most—my dad.

33

Tiptoeing down the hallway, I hold my breath, watching to make sure no one is around. Every time I’ve tried to sneak into Nathan’s home office unseen, someone has been around. Either Candace asking about my day at school, Francis dusting this side of the house, or Tanner following a step behind, telling me every single detail about his Lego video game. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but I need to find out what’s going on, and Nathan’s home office is the only place I can think to start. So here I am again, hoping to uncover something even if I’m not completely ready to know the entire truth.

The door clicks open and I peek inside, stealing a quick glance before stepping all the way inside and closing the door behind me with a soft click. The office is so large it’s overwhelming, bookshelves are lined wall to wall, with books and trinkets covering every inch. I glance on the shelf as I pass by, nothing seems out of place. The oversize oak desk catches my focus, a laptop sitting open on it. It’s the same one I’ve seen Nathan using around the house. Sitting in the stiff leather chair, I wake up the computer as the screen alights, requesting a password. There’s no chance I’d be able to guess, and with my luck, it will lock me out after one try and alert Nathan to my snooping. Pulling the drawers open on the desk, I shuffle around through folders and papers. Everything looks organized and in an assigned place, so I’m careful not to move much until I see a folder labeled S.C., my dad’s initials. It’s everything I can do to hold the folder steady as I flip through the pages, holding my breath.

It’s the same document from Ruby Flame that Detective Davis showed me, but it’s a thick stack, stapled together. The signature isn’t mine on this one, it’s my dad’s. Behind it, there’s an equally thick packet with the document from Nathan’s company’s contract. It too has my dad’s signature on it.

My breath hitches at a faint voice in the hallway.

Shoving the papers back together, I fumble getting them back in the drawer before slamming it shut. Standing, I yank the top drawer with pens and stationary supplies free just as the door opens.

Nathan looks to his desk then back to me, murmuring something into his phone before disconnecting the call. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

I force a smile as I hold my hand up, showing him the tape roll. “I needed some tape. Trying to add a little personal touch to my room, so I wanted to hang some pictures up.”

“Asher must be rubbing off on you. Not sure that’s a good thing.” He chuckles, looking unconvinced, but he goes with it. “There’s plenty in there or downstairs if you need more.”

I walk to the door, and he pushes it open, allowing me to pass. Tension is thick between us as I wave the tape in the air, playing for nonchalance. “Thanks.”