CHAPTER23
Violet
I’m sick with nerves for the rest of the week. Violent stomach cramps prevent me from eating. When I force food down my throat, I only end up with more spasms. Finally, I don’t have a choice but to swallow some pills.
The reason for my ailment is the USB key that sits like a big, fat accusation in my bag. It’s knowing that, once again, I’m going to let Elliot screw Leon over to protect my mother.
I don’t let Elliot know I have the program immediately. I wait until Friday. That sounds more realistic. It would’ve taken me time to steal Leon’s password and break into his laptop.
Elliot doesn’t reply to my message. I’m on pins and needles all day, bouncing my leg and keeping an eye on the door, but he doesn’t show up at the office. He makes me sweat it out.
When I say goodbye to Vero at five, she reminds me not to be late.
“And remember to wear something pretty,” she calls after me.
Crap. With all the stress, I didn’t give an appropriate dress another thought. It’s too late to rush to the stores, and I don’t want to raid my mom’s closet. Her dresses are much too revealing.
I cross the parking lot, my head bowed and my mind consumed with troubles. Close to my car, I look up. A man leans against the driver’s side.
Elliot.
My back goes stiff.
“Hello, sis,” he says when I stop in front of him. “Your nifty skills in breaking into computers are admirable.”
“Your skills in plagiarizing other people’s inventions are loathsome.”
He holds out his hand. “You have something for me.”
Gritting my teeth, I take the memory stick from my bag and slam it on his palm. “This is the last time you’re stealing from Leon.”
He grins. “We’ll see.”
I utter the words I rehearsed in my head all day. “He won’t keep his mouth shut forever. If Leon tells your father the truth, Gus will disown you. You know how Gus feels about not earning your position.”
He throws the stick into the air, straightening as he catches it. “Oh, I don’t think so.” Flashing me a smile, he pushes past me.
“You can’t be sure,” I say to his back, trying hard to sound threatening instead of desperate.
He stops and turns. “I am. I knew the day Leon wanted to punch me for kicking over your water bucket. His reaction told me everything I wanted to know.”
“You did that on purpose,” I say as the truth settles.
He looks smug. “I saw how he was staring at you. All I needed was a little experiment to test my theory.”
I motion at the stick he clutches in his fist. “You planned this right from the start.”
His lip curls with a sneer. “Dad was always boasting about the genius program Leon was working on. I got sick of listening to Leon this and Leon that. It was embarrassing how Dad was carrying on. Someone had to bring Leon down to Earth.”
“By stealing his program?” I ask, my hands shaking with anger.
“I did what was necessary to claim my rightful place.” He pulls his face into a mock-grimace. “Sometimes, it takes fighting dirty.”
With that, he strolls away.
I want to run after him and kick him to the dirt. I want to punch his ugly face and fight dirty. I’ve always fought better than him when we were kids. I bet I can still take him on, but Leon asked me to trust him, and I want to please Leon more than I want to knock Elliot out.
It takes enormous effort to still the voice inside me that demands violence. It’s only the thought of Leon and the fragile foundations of the newfound relationship we’re constructing with such painstaking effort that allows me to get into my car.
My hand still trembles when I push the ignition button. The time on the dashboard clock catches my gaze. Shit. We have to be at Vero’s house in an hour.
I don’t know how I get home. I can’t remember stopping at traffic lights. My mind is still in shambles by the time I pull into the garage.
Leon’s bike isn’t there, which means he’s still at the office. Why he continues to work there after what Elliot and Gus did to him baffles me. Gus lured him with promises of a bright future and by acting like the father Leon didn’t have. Charming people is Gus’s specialty. So is fucking them over.
I’m about to close the garage door when Zelda comes running from across the road.
“Hey.” She gives a wave before shoving her hands into the back pockets of a red pinafore she wears over a purple T-shirt. “Sam and I have our first interviews tomorrow.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, going forward to meet her. “And quick.”
“It took us a week to go through the applications and to sift the gold diggers from the serious candidates. Want to see our short list?”
“Absolutely, but I have to take a rain check. My boss is throwing a party tonight, and she invited me to meet Ethan Meyer.”
“Ethan Meyer?” Zelda squeals. “The hot shot graphic agent?”