Two Pretty Lies by K.L. Clare

Author:K.L. Clare [Clare, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: White Rose Press

Thirteen

KATIE

Thomas hadn’t allowed me to leave for three days. Seventy-two hours, locked up inside the penthouse, felt like weeks. I missed Lena’s company. I’d pleaded with Thomas to send his driver for her, but he wouldn’t let her come, wanting to keep her out of the line of fire. When he’d put it that way, Marta and I had agreed.

Aside from that and discussing my father’s situation, we’d hardly said a word to each other. Dad was missing, and not knowing my father’s whereabouts weighed heavily on us both. I could see his thoughts spinning behind distant eyes, and he noticed the horror in mine.

“I’m so sorry, Katie,” he said, drawing me against his broad, hard chest to comfort me. “I’ll search for him as soon as John arrives. I will find him.”

His younger brother, who was also eighteen, was flying in from England to help guard me and free up Thomas for the investigation.

To reassure me further, Thomas explained there was still hope even if his findings forced him to turn my father over to the British government.

“Reed”—as he’d been referring to my father—“is an American citizen, and because your parents have quite a lot of political influence, the US government could seek extradition before he’s prosecuted in the UK. If he has committed espionage, it would be more helpful for him to be charged and tried here.”

Thomas was in a difficult position. I couldn’t fault him for doing what was necessary to protect his own family.

“We’ll ring your mother and speak with her together,” he added.

Not even a full minute into the call, Mom swept into one of her stoic performances. We were discussing my father’s disappearance, for heaven’s sake.

Her lack of emotion made me wonder, Is she keeping vital details to herself? Does she know where he is and what he’s doing?

Thomas turned to view the security monitors after disconnecting the call.

Despite the awful situation, one obligation still existed that I needed to fulfill, and it required me leaving the apartment. I stood there, still in the dining room with Thomas, staring at the hard sheet of muscle on his back, waiting for a response to my request.

A minute passed, and then he spun, crossed the room, and hovered close. A move that made me weak. He consistently approached me like a predator, and I wanted him more each time he did it. His navy-blue T-shirt hugged his chest muscles as well.

“Of course. You must do it,” he said, surprising me.

I’d been offered Columbia’s fellowship for excellence in mathematics, a completely funded package, but it came with the stipulation that I took part in a charitable program to benefit dyslexic children.

The organization planned a video campaign, and my role was to demonstrate the application of basic math skills, using a system that dyslexic kids could grasp. I’d collaborated with my professor to create the plan before graduation.

The campaign’s overall format was groundbreaking, joining mathematics with music and art. With the way my brain associated numbers with color, assigning shades and notes to mathematic expressions came easily for me.

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