Net Worth by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub

9

Mason

Charlotte’s scared now.

She should be.

I’m so tired of waiting. I’ve been extraordinarily patient. I’ve dedicated the last fourteen years of my life to my siblings. To my business. Every day. Nights and weekends. Clawing business deals from the jaws of assholes. Clawing what little normalcy I could from the smoking remains of our lives. My knee is killing me.

So casual about it at the Cornerstone site.

What’s wrong with your leg?

Of course she’d noticed. She spends all her time staring at me. But there was no judgment in her voice. No morbid curiosity. She doesn’t know the story, then. A true innocent.

And for a heartbeat, I’d considered it. Telling her. She would be kind, because Charlotte Van Kempt is kind, and sweet, and innocent. Amid all those steel beams she was soft and beautiful and I wanted it. The unburdening. The admission. It was the most tempted I’ve ever been.

I cannot be tempted by her.

Not like that.

This isn’t about emotions or giving up the weight of my secrets. This is about retribution. Full stop.

Charlotte shivers next to me in the elevator, but she doesn’t cower. She doesn’t ask nervous questions. She waits, silent and stoic, all the way to the penthouse.

When the elevator doors open, I stride out into the foyer and through it. A moment of hesitation, and then she’s hurrying to catch up with me.

Down the hall. Take a left. She sucks in a little breath as we go into the great room. It looks out over the Manhattan skyline, but I don’t care about the floor-to-ceiling windows. I don’t care about the orange glow of the sunset sinking into the city. I want her face to burn red. I want tears. I want her to feel as hollowed out and scorched as I do on days like this.

A large, rounded sofa faces the fireplace on the left side of the room. The formal dining table on the right side. But I take her to the center, where four chairs surround a low, white table.

I put the box there earlier. Slim. Black.

She’s shaking in her shoes and doing her best to ignore it. I take off my jacket first and drop it into the chair, then reach for the box.

Charlotte’s tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. No questions, though. She stands up tall when I come back with the necklace.

Not the same one as before. That one’s in my closet, tossed onto a dresser with its broken clasp. Charlotte watches my eyes as long as she can, but she can’t help herself.

She looks.

Her eyes fly open.

Unlike the other necklace, this one has no chain. It’s stiff platinum. A collar necklace, glittering with diamonds. Charlotte’s chin goes up as I bring it close to her throat, like it might scratch her. It doesn’t. There’s a breath of space between the metal and her neck. I let it go and the metal falls against her collarbone.

She shivers.

I put my hand around her throat, the diamonds scraping the side of my hand, and look into her huge, blue eyes.

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