91

AURORA

“We have someone that shops for us.” Lucian looks up from his desk, pausing the scrawl across the papers before him. “You don’t need to go.”

“I want to.” I bring my hands together at my waist, my fingers knotted together. “Please. I’ve been cooped up here for a week since…” Since Vincent tried to have Orion and me killed. “I just need to go out and do something normal. Plus, I want to meet my mother for lunch. Please?”

Taking a trip into the city and shopping like a normal person is my last attempt to put distance between myself and what happened in the bar. Plagued with nightmares for the two nights after, it’s taken some time for me to process seeing those dead bodies. Thankfully it’s getting easier.

It’d be even easier if I could do something normal instead of being cooped up here because Lucian is too scared to take his eyes off of me.

He watches me silently, so I relax my fingers together, searching for another way to persuade him. Throwing in the request about my mother is half correct; we’re supposed to meet today, but I haven’t confirmed it with her because I don’t know if I can face her.

“Okay.” Lucian drops his pen and stands, then he walks around his desk in long, slow steps. Curling one finger, he invites me closer. I obey, stopping only when his hand lands lightly on the side of my neck.

“But Orion goes with you. No question. And when he tells you it’s time to come back, you come back.”

“Of course.” I nod, staring up into those gorgeous hazel eyes. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll count on that.” Lucian leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead in a dry kiss. He lingers and I close my eyes, soaking up the contact. Then he releases me and with a dip of my head, I hurry from the office.

I need this.

I need to get away from these walls just for a little while to pretend I’m a regular person. To remind myself that there’s a world out there not swathed in death and murder.

Not a word has been spoken about the death of Vincent’s men and no one else seems affected. Maybe someone would talk to me about it if I asked, but they all took it in stride. Each night I ask myself if it really happened, and then I close my eyes and it floods back as if I never left that night.

But one thing, one important thing sticks with me above all else.

Lucian chose me.

Sure, maybe it was mostly a way for him to stick it to his father, but he chose to save me and Orion. That has to mean something.

What…I’m not sure yet, but that choice was an eye-opener for me.

I can’t lead this double life anymore. I can’t accept kisses and touches of affection while wearing the hidden hat of a traitor for my mother. I can’t haunt their steps, looking for information or hoping they will slip so that I can bring them to their knees.

I don’t want that.

Telling my mother, however, is scarier than facing Vincent, and it lingers like a shadow in my mind as I say goodbye to Cassian and get Orion to bring me to the city.

I send a quick text to my mother and we schedule lunch. I don’t tell her my intentions; that’s much better face-to-face.

As we wander the city, popping in and out of shops to make orders for the mansion, there’s a lightness in my step. The weight of my mother’s expectations on my shoulders is too much to bear, and if Lucian can cast his off, then so can I.

The decision is enlightening.

Orion keeps close as we wander, barely giving me an inch to breathe, but I like it. Too much has happened, and with the uncertainty of my mother’s reaction, I’m going to enjoy every second of his closeness until things change.

I order clothes, food to fill the pantry, a few treats for the house, and toys for Selene. The looks clerks give me when I state what name to put down on the bill is one of disbelief. One woman even has the audacity to ask me how on earth I have the Hawthorne information, until Orion steps up and silences her with a look.

Do I really look that out of place when people consider Lucian and his family?

Maybe.

My concerns about it don’t last, though, and the uncomfortable situation is forgotten the moment we step back out into the sunlight and lunchtime rolls around.

Showtime.

The restaurant my mother picked is different from our usual cafe, but I don’t question it. My mind is too focused on rehearsing what I’m going to say to her. Orion remains by my side as we enter and I’m hit with the spicy, floral scents of curry, noodles, and more. I would have been starving if my stomach wasn’t tying itself in knots from nerves.

Wooden tables dot around the room with only a few customers this early. It looks like we’re ahead of the lunchtime rush. Orion brushes his hand over my lower back, then takes the table by the door like he did the last time. I flash him a warm smile and weave deeper inside.

Scanning the restaurant, the chefs can be seen through the windows at the far end as they dart about preparing all sorts of meals. A couple of waiters dressed in blue dart around, and it takes me a few long minutes to spot my mother all the way at the back near the bathrooms. Her face is like thunder and as I walk closer, I notice she’s staring past me to Orion.

Clearly, my explanation of his presence last time wasn’t enough to satisfy her.

“Mother.” I force a polite smile. Still she stares past me.

“What is he doing here?”

Glancing over my shoulder, Orion is deep in conversation with a waiter while pointing at the menu.

“I told you,” I say, sliding into the chair opposite her. “If I leave the estate, they make someone go with me. It’s not personal.”

My mother scoffs and snaps her fingers, catching the attention of a passing waiter.

“Tea please, in a pot.”

The waiter glances at me and then presses his hands together. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t serve tea.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“If you take a look at the menu, we serve a variety of flavored water and soft drinks but not tea.”

My mother’s face twists as if she’s been slapped as she snatches up a menu to check if he is telling the truth. Indeed he is, and she sends him a bitter glance.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps just a cup of hot water?” I ask softly, jumping in before this becomes an argument.

“That I can do,” he smiles at me. “And for you?”

“A Coke.”

“Excellent. I’ll be right back.”

“What kind of place doesn’t serve tea,” she mutters, snapping the menu closed.

“This isn’t a cafe. You picked a restaurant. They serve different things,” I point out. Clasping my hands together tightly on the table.

My heart pounds, sending trembles down my arms and the back of my thighs prickle with anticipation. I need to be honest with her and stand my ground, but the prospect is terrifying.

“Talk to me.” My mother leans forward and balances one sharp elbow on the table. “Do you have anything for me?”

I press my lips together and meet her gaze. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s all you want to ask? Do you not want to know how I am? How I’m doing?” I touch my hairline where the wound from the car crash has become a small pink scar. “Don’t you want to ask about my health or how I’m healing?”

“Aurora, my dear, it’s impossible for me to gauge your health because of how plump you are, and I don’t care to listen to your self-inflicted ailments. If you are in bad health, trimming that waistline will help.”

Sharpness lances through my chest and my next breath wobbles.

“Besides,” she continues, none the wiser. “I taught you to take care of yourself so what is there to ask? Do you care to ask how your poor mother is doing, waiting for information from you?”

“I ask.” My knuckles bleed white. “I ask because I care but you always brush me off.”

“Because nothing is more important than what we are doing. Don’t you understand that? You’re going soft. I knew it. I knew you didn’t have the guts to do this.”

My breath is shaky, and my nerves begin to fray. “Mother, I’m trying to…to connect with you. I want us to have a better relationship, one that is just you and me and nothing else.”

Giving her a chance is a risk, but she is my mother. It’s bold of me to hope that I can have both her and the men back at the mansion, but I will try. I will try because there is a part of me that loves her.

“This is ridiculous.” My mother sits back and begins fiddling with her napkin. “You are being ridiculous. What you want, what you care about can only come after we’ve done what we set out to do.”

This is it. My chance. My stomach flips so violently that nausea bleeds up my throat. It takes all my strength to keep my sickness at bay.

“No.”

Her hands pause. She lifts her sharp gaze to me. “Pardon?”

“I said no.” Three words and my stomach cramps painfully.

I bite back a wince and continue, “This obsession with Lucian’s family and revenge is unhealthy and will help no one. The people you’re angry at—half of them aren’t alive anymore, and the rest aren’t even in power—so what you’re asking of me will only hurt people not involved with what happened all those years ago.”

My voice doesn’t even sound like my own but I can’t stop talking. Once I start, it spills out of me like vomit. By the time I finish, I’m breathless. Sweat prickles down my back and my T-shirt sticks to me. I sit rigid, not trusting myself to move when I’m this nervous.

My mother’s face melts from shock to anger, then downright thunderous. I’ve never seen such venom in her eyes. She sets the overly folded napkin down on the table in front of her, and then her eyes snap to me so suddenly that I forget to breathe.

“You know nothing of what you speak,” she hisses, spit spraying from between her teeth. “You have no idea the pain I suffered. The trauma of having to scrape by as a child who saw far too much death.”

The face of the dead bodyguard flashes in my mind.

“I had to change my looks, pretend to be someone I’m not, and marry an American to disguise my name. I carved off pieces of myself to stay hidden, lost my accent and everything that connected me to my family just so I would be safe. So you would be safe. All to hide because some man in power thought another man was a traitor.”

The more she talks, the faster my heart beats until it becomes a blur of sensation in my chest.

“You dare sit across from me and tell me to get over it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I try weakly, my resolve crumbling. “You want people to suffer. You want revenge. I understand that, but it won’t make anything better. The people who hurt you and our family don’t exist anymore.”

“Bullshit. Those people don’t care who gets hurt in the crossfire and neither do I. I don’t give a shit about them. I want them to burn and when they have nowhere to turn, I will remind them of the name Everhartand they will see they missed one.”

“No.”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “No?”

“No. I don’t care. The battles you insist on waging are not mine and I…” I pause, struggling to speak confidently over my trembling jaw. “I don’t want to hurt the people I care about.”

My mother freezes. She’s a statue without even a strand of hair moving. “That you care about?”

My legs feel weak and the nausea intensifies.

“Have you fallen for him? Is that it? Seen a little dick and changed your tune? You’re not pregnant with his spawn are you?”

Even on her worst days, my mother would still try to be kind, but this is well beyond that. I’ve unlocked something awful inside her. Even if I try to reason that she’s just hurt, her words are cruel.

It takes all my strength to stand but once I’m up, I stay strong and stare down at her with as much compassion as I can muster.

“This is over. I’m not working for you anymore, and I’m not letting you manipulate me into your plans. And if you value your own health and well-being, you will turn away from this path, too. There’s nothing down it but darkness. You deserve better. You deserve peace, Mom.”

If looks could kill, I would drop dead right there and then.

She doesn't respond to me, so I turn and leave. The waiter appears with our drinks, but I pass by him without a glance and make a beeline for the door. This doesn’t feel real.

It’s like some kind of dream where I’ll wake up in bed with a text from her telling me that I’m late.

Outside in the warm afternoon air, it begins to sink in.

I stood up to her.

I told her no.

The joy of that rises, but then it halts abruptly as her words finally register in my mind.

Pregnant? I hadn’t given it much thought but now that she’s mentioned it, when was my last period?