I follow her into the kitchen and snatch two glasses out of the cabinet. “No matter your reasons for saying no, don’t fucking pretend like I didn’t try.”
“Trying doesn’t mean shit when it’s done so recklessly!”
“Then stop punishing me for it!” I realize I’m yelling and try to moderate my tone. “Either you blame me for not getting you out or you realize we were both trapped in dangerous situations.”
“Didn’t stay trapped, did you?”
Ah. There’s the crux of the issue. Not what happened while she was still in the territory. No, it’s what went down after she left. “You have something to say. Might as well get it out.”
Tink dumps vodka into each glass. I hate that her hands shake, but she won’t take comfort from me. We need to get this out now before it undermines our ability to work together.
Yeah. Sure. That’s why I want the air cleared. For the endgame. Not because I can’t stand the way she looks at me sometimes, like I’m the enemy. Like I’m a monster akin to Peter. Even if I am.
She downs her glass and flinches. “Should have had a chaser,” she gasps.
“For fuck’s sake.” I stalk to the fridge and yank out the first thing I find—orange juice. I pour a second glass of it and pass it over while she watches me with wide eyes. When she doesn’t immediately drink, I give her the look, the one primarily reserved for Dominants when their submissive has pushed back too hard and is edging over into disrespect.
Tink drinks the orange juice.
When it’s halfway gone, she sets the glass aside. Her voice has lost its hoarseness. “You say you hate what he did, but here you are, squatting in his territory.”
“It’s my territory now.”
“That’s exactly my point.” She waves a hand. “You’re occupying the same space he did. If you really loathed everything he and your father did, why didn’t you leave? You could have gotten out. Your trying to get me out proves it. But you chose to stay, and you chose to fight him and take his place.”
The truth is there, edging my tongue. Speaking it means peeling away parts of myself I never show anyone. Oh, Nigel and Colin get pieces of me no one else does because they’re the kind of family a person actually craves, rather than one linked by miserable accident of blood. I got lucky with them. Everyone else?
I’ve seen what this world does to people who expose their vulnerable centers. I might respect the hell out of Tink, but I don’t trust her. She only accepted my bargain because she has nowhere else to turn. She didn’t choose me. For the last five years, she’s been pretty damn clear that she never would if she had another option.
I take my vodka as a shot and don’t bother to flinch. “I need you on my side, Tink. If not behind closed doors, then in public. You need something, you tell me. As long as it’s reasonable, I’ll do my best to make it happen. You pissed at me? You wait until we’re up here to rip me a new one. I cannot have you threatening my people and ignoring my orders out there.” I jerk my chin at the elevator.
I expect her to yell, to snark, to do anything but look at me as if I’m a math equation that she can’t quite puzzle out. “I don’t understand you.”
The problem is that she understands me all too well. She’s right. I could have gotten out. I could have convinced Nigel and Colin to come with me and blown out of Carver City without looking back. Even now, we could be holding down normal jobs that don’t stain our souls and worrying about 401ks or whatever the fuck normal people worry about.
I didn’t. I chose to stay with eyes wide open. I knew exactly the price it would extract from me, and I decided it was worth the cost. Peter had to go, had to pay for his sins, and then there were too many people who looked to me to lead. Walking away meant abandoning a whole territory where I was suddenly sure I could make a difference. Arrogant? Delusional? I still don’t know the answer to that. “You don’t have to understand me. Just agree to keep shit behind closed doors.”
She looks away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or embarrassment. “I’m sorry about earlier. You’re right. I shouldn’t have drawn a knife on him.”
I clap slowly, mostly to break the tension of our fight. “So it can be done.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, well, say something else.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She blinks. “That’s not what I meant.”
I know, but I never did like playing by the rules. I shrug. “It’s the truth. The first time I saw you, I tripped over my feet like an asshole.”