“I can show you instead.” I pull out my phone and scroll to a simple demonstration I drew on my iPad back at the flat.
Landon grabs the phone from my hand. Our fingers brush, and I my breath catches, but he’s completely oblivious to the electric war he started with a simple touch.
He watches my creation with a raised brow before a smirk lifts his lips.
People call it the evil smirk, the trouble smirk. Whenever he’s wearing it, everyone either runs or hides, because Landon is always plotting one thing, manipulating another, and reaching for the horizon itself.
If he got the chance, he’d kick the planets and toy with the stars.
Everyone in our circle of friends, his twin brother and younger sister included, avoids him like the plague because he could and would make use of them for his grand schemes.
Me? I think they’re only seeing the superficial Landon. Yes, he’s methodical and has little to no moral compass, but he’s not as black as everyone suggests he is.
“This is impressive,” he says after a while. “You even drew camera locations.”
“Those are the ones I saw on the paths I took. There must be others in places I didn’t go to.”
“Don’t be humble. Not even the greatest spies would be able to get this level of detail.” He sends himself a copy, deletes the original file, then gives me my phone and strokes the top of my hair the same as he would his sister and my friend, Glyndon. “You’re such a good sport, Ces.”
I smile even if a part of me doesn’t like the compliment.
Though it’s not the compliment that bothers me—it’s everything else that comes with it.
How he touches me like he does his sister. How he looks at me with nothing of the fire that I hold for him deep in my heart.
Continuing to do him favors and merely existing in his orbit won’t allow me to get close. If I don’t do something about the broken limbo we’re in, I’ll never be anything more to him.
I tuck a stray silver strand of hair behind my ear, feeling refreshed now that I don’t have the annoying wig on. “What do you plan to do next?”
He leans forward against the wheel, wearing a charming yet sadistic smile. “What else can I plan aside from trouble?”
“Can I join?”
“No. It’s dangerous.” He grins. “Uncle Xan will chase me with his grandfather’s famous shotgun and paint a hole where my head used to be if I’m the reason his precious daughter is put in harm’s way.”
“Don’t worry about Papa.”
“Have you seen your papa lately? He’s been sending us daily reminders that if something happens to you, we’ll all pay. In blood. I kind of need that inside my body,notoutside it.”
I wince.
I love my father to death, and some would argue that I’m Daddy’s little girl—or I was before my life took a sharp dive to hell. Before he put his trust in me and I betrayed it in the worst way possible.
At any rate, Papa is overprotective and I get that, but he doesn’t have to be this extra.
“Anyway, you did so well that the MI6 would be a good fit if you ever considered a career change.” He throws his head back against the seat, looking like he’s straight out of a painting—no, like a statue. “Now, you just sit back and watch the Heathens burn.”
I don’t care about that.
My disregard for TKU is mostly on the academic level, because I apparently disrespected a member of their American football club by telling him ‘no, thank you’ when he asked me to dance at a pub. Ever since then, he and his minions keep stealing my textbooks and being a thorn in my side.
That hasn’t happened much lately, though, so they probably lost interest. Other than that, I don’t focus on their clubs or activities.
“I can be useful,” I argue with Lan.
“You were more than useful, you were the best.” He pats my hair again. “But we both know you’re a dainty princess and would break like delicate china at the first hint of the hardcore stuff, so let me take care of this, okay, love?”
The feeling of being metaphorically slapped causes my skin to throb and tingle.