Page 23 of Beautiful Chaos
His smirk broadens into a smile.
I take a few notes, make a few calculations, and then run it all again.
His amused smile is weirding me the fuck out. It’s reminding me of the surgical residents I went to school with. Specifically, the subset of neurosurgeons whoknewthat they were brilliant.
“Did you know this would be the result?” I ask, pushing the paper with my notes to him.
He reads through my notes. “Actually, ‘right on the cusp of a sociopathy diagnosis’ is better than I thought I would get. Maybe I’m losing my touch.”
“You’ve gotten higher results?” I ask, a little insecure about the test I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.
He shakes his head. “Uncle Anders showed me how to trick the tests, but I answered your questions honestly. I didn’t wanna fuck up your hard work.” He taps the page. “What do these numbers mean?”
“You score low-to-moderate in empathy and high in both manipulation and grandiosity. Your self-control scores match those of a neurotypical, which keeps you on this side of a full diagnosis. You’re also oddly high on charm.”
“Oddly high?”
“I don’t view you as charming.”
“That’s because I’m manipulating you into thinking that I’m a by-the-book kind of guy.” He sees the confusion on my face. “It’s dead simple to charm people, and I’m easily bored. I’m more interested in the glamour.”
“Huh.” I stroke my beard. “My sense has always been that you love everyone you call family. Is that part of your glamour?”
He smiles. “Would you believe me if I said no?”
I look at his results again. “You’re capable of love. Maybe not at the same level someone like me would experience, but…I lean toward believing you.” I tilt my hand side to side. “I believe youwantto love us and act in accordance with that desire.”
He leans across my desk, suddenly intense. “Idolove my family. Killing assholes to support the family business serves that end.” He sits back, lifting a casual shoulder. “Everyone else can get fucked.”
“NowthatI believe.”
He seems proud of this accomplishment and gets a little chatty. I let him talk, fascinated by what I learn. Honoré, the other half of H and H, knows. Hedy doesn’t. Mav doesn’t, and Holmes insists he never know.
“I didn’t really care that I’d been keeping the family business a secret from him, but I don’t enjoy it when he is upset. And I would also find it upsetting if he doubted that I love him.”
“That I believe as well.” I smile. “What’s really funny is that this makes for an interesting case study. Identical twins with completely different psychological profiles.”
“Fun fact, sociopathy and psychopathy are shared in twins at about the same percentage as sexuality.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I’ll send you the study.”
I notice, not for the first time, that he doesn’t clarifyhissexuality.
We stand, a silent mutual decision to end the conversation. His energy shifts again, and a comforting sense of familiarity comes over me as I recognize the cousin I grew up with.
“Holmes, when it’s just us, you don’t have to?—”
He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind, but it’s easier to maintain the glamour than to turn it on and off.”
“Understood.”
He winks and walks out the door.
Next is Uncle Eddie, who finishes his test in under a minute.
“I suppose you’re used to taking these kinds of tests.”
