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Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(26)

Author:Kate Stewart

“You want my trust, that I can’t give you.”

“From you, I want nothing,” I turn on my heel and he grips my wrist to stop me.

I glare up at him as he blinks down at me while soaking my tank and shorts.

“I can’t trust you. That’s the miracle you seek. But it’s far too expensive, and you can’t afford it. But we can learn from each other.”

“And what exactly is it that you think you can teach me?” I lift my hands and slide them along his shoulders and down his body, raking my fingernails over his damp skin, satisfied when I see him tense before I slowly lift my eyes to his. He grips my hands and squeezes them before releasing them.

“Like I said, we can learn from each other.”

I scoff. “And what exactly is it that you think you can learn from a pea?”

There’s a distinct shift in his gaze that has me hesitating before I dismiss it. This is just another head game I’m not willing to indulge him in. “You can’t afford me either, Tobias. You’re incapable of obtaining my kind of currency.”

Tension coils in my belly as our breaths mingle.

“You have questions. Ask me, Cecelia.”

I avert my gaze ignoring the surge in my veins. One second passes and then another as he leans in on a whisper.

“My proposal has nothing to do with the look in your eyes, but if I touched you, right now,” he drawls out thickly, “the way you want me to right now, you wouldn’t refuse me.”

“Your game is becoming predictable.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, “Maybe I’ll up it.” He leans in, his warm breath heating the cool drop of water at my nape. “Ask me, Cecelia.”

I turn my head to keep him from reading me further.

“Have it your way.”

The phone rings on the other side of the pool and we both glance in the direction before he turns back to me.

Shoulders tense, he steps out of reach and heads toward his phone as I head for the house. He’s already snapping into his phone by the time I make it to the door. I don’t have to look back to know his eyes are on me. I can feel the blaze from feet away.

Annoyed by the sight of the Jag in the circular drive, I enter the house preparing for battle only to hear a slew of heated French coming from my kitchen.

“Trouvez-le.” Find him.

A brief pause.

“Pas d’excuses. Vous avez une heure.” No excuses. You have one hour.

Tobias ends the call just as I come into view. He looks perplexed, furiously typing away on a laptop on the island. It’s only been a few days since our confrontation at the pool, but it’s clear he fully intends to take advantage of his position.

“Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?” I make my way past him to open the fridge door to grab a water. I’m covered in sweat from my hike. He barely spares me a glance when he replies.

“Protecting my interest.”

“You think you can manage that somewhere else, preferably far, far away?”

He scans the screen and slams his laptop closed. “Putain!” Fuck. Chest heaving, he picks up one of his cellphones from the counter in front of him before dialing. “Get the new here. Ten minutes.”

He crosses the kitchen, grabbing a nearby bottle of gin and pouring a healthy drink into a tumbler full of ice. He circles it, deep in thought with the ice cubes rattling as he swishes the clear liquid, one, two, three times before he takes a long pull.

“It’s a little early for a cocktail, isn’t it?”

Silence.

“Good talk,” I roll my eyes. I’m halfway to the dining room when he speaks up behind me.

“You’re wrong, you know. It’s not people like you and your mother.”

“What?”

“When we first spoke, you said I was fighting for people like you and your mother.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Everything’s wrong with that,” he bites. “Everything. You want to single yourselves out.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. It’s not just the blue-collar workers at your father’s plant or anywhere else for that matter. That’s secular thinking.”

“Fine. I think wrong, I love wrong, my loyalty is misplaced, and I’m just an all-around fumbling idiot. Pardon me if I don’t give a shit that I’m not up to your standards.”

He again swirls the ice in his drink, one, two, three times before taking another sip.

“You’re tracking my every move already. Do you really have to be present to do so?”

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