Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"Fuck, yes." Niall drops his hand back to his side, jerking his chin in a nod. "Let's go."
I exhale a relieved breath, following behind him as he forges a path through the crowd for me. I don't miss the way they watch me go. Nor do I miss their whispers. Niall may believe what I said about Naz, but these people clearly don't.
Thanks to his attention, the target on my back is now bigger than ever. Lovely.
"What are you reading?"
I glance up from my book to find my father standing at the door to my room, still dressed in the tux he wore to the gala. He looks out of place among the lacy throw pillows and pale purple fabrics, like an aging warrior.
"War and Peace." I roll onto my back and then sit upright. "Did you just get home?"
"Mmhmm." He steps into my room. "War and Peace, huh? What do you think?"
"I've read it before," I say quietly, placing my bookmark between the pages to mark my spot. "It's fascinating."
"I always thought so, too." He leans against the wall. "One must be cunning and wicked in this world," he quotes softly.
Of course that's the line that resonates with him. He's both of those things. In spades.
"We love people not so much for the good they've done us, but as for the good we've done them," I retort, making him smile.
"You always have seen the world far more like your mother did than like me or your brother do." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "You keep the two of us honest."
Is there honesty in what they do? I'm not sure. But my father isn't a bad man any more than my brother is. He's just a man. And like most men, he's full of flaws. But he's not entirely flawed. I know he loves me and Niall. He'd do anything for us. And I know he does what he can to balance the scales, to put just as much good into the world as he does bad. Does guilt drive him? Perhaps. But at least he tries.
Does Naz? For some reason, I think he plays by a different set of rules entirely. He lives by his own code. I'm just not entirely sure what that code is.
"How was the rest of the gala?" I ask my father, trying to distract myself. It's late, I'm tired, and a certain Colombian drug lord has occupied far too much of my mind already tonight.
I've thought myself in circles, trying to sort out why he's so fascinating to me. And I've come up with nothing but a lingering headache.
"It was fine." My father's brows furrow as he stares at me. "That's what I want to talk to you about."
Great. I should have known I wasn't going to get away without a conversation about Naz with him, too.
"Are you all right, Brynna?" he asks, unable to hide the worry in his eyes.
"I'm perfectly fine, Dad," I sigh. "It was just a dance."
How many more times am I going to have to tell that particular lie before I manage to convince myself that what happened tonight meant nothing?
"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me, right?"
"I'm positive." I force a bright smile and lie to him, exactly like I lied to Niall. "Nazario was polite. We danced. He complimented my dress. And then I went outside to get some air and he did whatever Nazario does. That's it."
He studies me in silence for several long moments. He seems troubled, as if there's far more going on here than I know. "Perhaps we should reconsider letting you roam campus alone. At least for a little while."
I carefully set my book aside, trying to stay calm as my heart thuds against my breastbone. "You promised you wouldn't do that."
"I know." Guilt flickers in his gaze. "But things have changed."
"Because Nazario asked me to dance?" I cross my arms, scowling at him. "Like I told Niall, he only did it to get under your skin. And it clearly worked if you're trying to change our agreement about college now. I'm twenty-one, not twelve. I don't need a bodyguard just to get a freaking education."
"No, not because of the dance," he says, his gaze locked on my face. "Because Leyva attacked Lombardi after he mentioned that he might ask you to dance."
"I…" I stutter, caught off guard. "I'm sure I had nothing to do with it. The last time I was forced to deal with Adrian Lombardi, I considered resorting to violence, too. He tends to bring out that quality in most people."
The man is an infuriating monster. He doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. My father knows this just as well as I do. He's wanted to hit him a time or two himself.
Crap. Did Naz really attack him because he suggested dancing with me? Doubtful. He's too controlled for that. But did Lombardi say something about me to provoke Naz into attacking him? Probably.