Silas’s eyes narrow to slits. “As you’ve mentioned.”
“No need to be inhospitable, my stay here only temporary.” Keeping my voice smooth as honey.
In my peripheral, I spot Abram shift his stance. The truth of the comment troublesome, forsomeof us.
My chin dips, reminding Silas he has yet to shake my hand. Both outstretched in limbo. It was starting to ache, but I don’t dare move. Not breaking.
The air impossibly thin as I wait.
I get a fraction of what I want when he tightens his hold. If he anticipated that I’d flinch, then he’d be wrong. Our shake brief, but my point made.
I want to be recognized as just Rory, not Abram’s daughter, but this would suffice for now.
He looks at his watch, our hold separating gazes not. “I have a meeting I’m running late to.”
Silas was lying. I read him easily. He was a man who lived for work, everything else coming second to that. There was no way he would ever be late for anything.
“Pity.”
A harsh line forming on Silas’s lips at my overt sarcasm.
Abram’s hand grips at my shoulder, squeezing. His inner way of telling me he caught it too and wasn’t impressed.
“What about dinner?” Abrams says, trying to keep the conversation light.
Silas looks like he’d rather eat the head of a baby rabbit than do that. Even so, he tells Antoinette to allot a time in his schedule. Stalking past without another word.
The rest of my day at the office was bland and uninteresting.
twenty-one
Rory
“Comeon,youoweme one,” Hailey implores over the phone.
She’d been texting me all afternoon. Telling me Xander asked me about me since I skipped my classes to go to work with Abram.
Eventually, she’d had enough of me dodging her implications and called as soon as school let out. Phone calls were harder to ignore, and she knew that.
Growing up my normal was different than what it was now. Normal for me wasn’t going to parties or dating. It was making sure my mom hadn’t taken more of her prescribed medication. Drinking herself into oblivion by the time I got home.
Shaking my head, I focus back on Hailey realizing she’d been waiting on me. “Owe you for what?”
“For making me try that diner downtown.”
“You love that place,” I grumble.
“Fine, then you owe me for ditching today.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I deflect, arguing whatever little bit I can to get out of doing this.
“Come on,please?”
My laugh is airy. “Are you begging?”
“I need another girl’s opinion.”
Relenting, I take refuge on her. Answering with the one-worded response that’s used when you most definitely were not. “Fine.”