Burn for Me (Hidden Legacy #1)(32)

“When you talk, it makes me think of fun things I could do to you. With you.”

Good catch there.

“And your skin is like honey. I wonder how you taste.”

Bitter and tired. “Mhm.”

He reached over to touch a strand of my hair. I pulled back. “You don’t have the touching rights.”

“How do I get those?”

Stop being a self-absorbed spoiled baby. “You get those if I fall in love with you.”

He stopped. “In love. You’re serious?”

“Yes.” That would shut him up.

“What is this, the sixteenth century? Should I write you a sonnet next?”

“Is it going to be a good sonnet?”

He leaned back on the grass and swiped his thumb across his phone. “Watch this.”

The screen turned white. The pale background shattered, breaking into individual pieces and flying off in a complicated pattern. A woman appeared on the screen. She was older, probably past fifty, although it was hard to tell her exact age. A navy business suit hugged her pencil-thin frame. Her makeup was expert, her caramel hair styled with artful precision into a loose, yet formal, hairdo. Her heart-shaped face, big dark eyes, and narrow nose gave her away. I was looking at Christina Pierce.

“I got a message from my mother,” Adam said. “Emailed to my private address from a public location and encoded with the family encryption. Very cloak and dagger.”

He pushed Play. Christina Pierce came to life.

“I have a plane on standby ready to take you to Brazil,” she said. Her voice had the overtone of a Georgia accent, but there was nothing soft about it. “It’s a non-extradition country. This is the house.” A picture of a mansion replaced her image: white walls, tropical greenery, and an infinity pool, dark blue silhouetted against the lighter blue of the ocean. Christina reappeared. “While you’re gone, someone else will take the blame. You can return in as little as a year to a clean record and a tide of public support and sympathy for you being wrongfully accused. A year in paradise, Adam, with your every need attended. You have my word that you won’t spend a single minute in jail. Think about it.”

I’d asked Augustine for reassurance. House Pierce had obliged.

“My mother says she loves me.” Pierce studied her image. “Love is control. People say they love you when they want to run your life. They wedge and pound you into a shape they find comfortable, and when you try to escape, they hog-tie you with guilt. My family figured it out years ago. We’ve been marrying and breeding for profit for over a century. No love involved.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“The only reason you’re sitting here under this tree is because my mother twisted Montgomery’s arm, and he twisted yours by threatening your family. If it wasn’t for them losing their house, would you have taken this job?”

“Probably not. But in the end the choice was mine.”

“Why? You don’t owe them anything. You didn’t ask to be born. They dragged you into this world kicking and screaming, and now they expect you to conform. Well, I say fuck ’em.”

You didn’t ask to be born . . . In some ways he was still fifteen years old inside and as volatile as the fire he made.

“Look, at least you have your parents,” I said. “My dad’s gone. Nothing can bring him back.”

He tilted his head. “What is it like?”

“It hurts, still. He was in my life for so long and now he’s just not there. My mother loves me. She’d do anything for me. But my dad was the one who got me. He understood why I did things. We tried so desperately to keep him alive, but he still died, and our world collapsed. I was older, but my sisters were young, and it hit them really hard.”

Adam shrugged. “I have a father. I never had a dad. He’s diligent. If my mother explained to him that a football game or a piano recital needed to be attended, he would make sure to show up. He was present but not there. I don’t know what he loves, but I know he likes money. My oldest brother works for the company. My other brother is in the military, building those vital business connections. My father talks to both of them. He starts taking an interest in his kids when we start making money. Until then we belong to Mother.”

“At least she cares enough to worry about you. She must love you.”

“She indulges me. There is a difference. Indulgence implies tacit disapproval. The House is doing well. Her professional life is healthy; she has an IQ of 148 and could do her job in her sleep. Our finances are robust, and my father would never embarrass the family by a scandal. I’m her excuse to be emotional. Every time I do something that shakes their palace, she can grab the lion’s share of attention with her dramatics. If it wasn’t for me, what would she bitch about? I make it a point to be a disappointment as often as I can.”

Wow. “Have you ever just accidentally stumbled into meeting their expectations?”

“I went to college. When I started my master’s, I realized that it would never be enough. All my life the House would expect me to climb the ladder of their expectations. Get a degree. Make money. Marry right. Produce intelligent, magically gifted children. Make more money. They had me for twenty-four years. That’s all they get.” Adam leaned toward me. “Look, bottom line is, parents and sisters is something you do when you’re five. I’m giving you a shot at being free. Shoot your family the bird and come away with me.”