Page 72 of Shark’s Edge

My psyche shriveled as shame and indignation stormed in. As humiliation punched between my ribs and fury turned my heart into an ember.

Weirdly, I fixed my stare over to the nesting dolls again. Viktor’s metaphor about them was a haunting echo in my head.

Layers. We all hide beneath them.

Layers.

Yes.

The ones I thought I’d been seeing beneath Sebastian’s shell. The parts of him I’d started to like, despite everything. Despite the beast who roared at everyone, the asshole obsessed with erecting a tower, and the lover who got mentioned in desperate suicide notes. Because I’d also seen the guy who stood up for little girls, the man who liked cooking me dinner, and even the boy who had to learn about diabetes before he even learned algebra.

But what if that was the shell?

“Abbigail? Did you fucking hear me? I said I’ll do it, okay?”

What if the big bad wolf was his true self?

Because right now, that made the most sense of all.

“Don’t. Bother.”

Chapter Twelve

Sebastian

Last night ended in a blur. What started out as a nightcap turned into a top off . . . then fine, just one more . . . and then well, shit, I might as well finish the bottle. Now it felt like there was sand in my eyes and sawdust in my throat. I knew I was definitely too old to deal with feeling this hungover the morning after a clusterfuck of that magnitude.

A cluster not-fuck would be more accurate.

The unwelcome face of my best friend appeared in my line of sight when I looked up from my hands, where I had my head cradled, massaging my throbbing temples.

“I guess this explains why my messages went unanswered last night,” Grant said with his usual lighthearted chuckle.

“How’s that?” I asked, squinting at the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead. “Jesus Christ, I think I’m starting to hate Scotch.”

“I’ll get you some water. A few aspirin probably wouldn’t hurt either. I thought you were staying in last night?” Grant asked, walking over to the refrigerator.

“I did,” I moaned.

“Shit, man. Drinking alone in that castle of yours?” He shook his head ruefully. “That paints a sorry picture, man. Even for you. What happened?”

As much as I wanted to talk to my best friend about the problem at hand, I knew the moment I put it out into the open, it would only get worse.

Is that even possible?

“Out with it, man.” He slammed the water down in front of me with a bit more force than necessary. Liquid sloshed over the rim and onto my desk. I met his stare with a reproachful one of my own.

“You’re cleaning that up.”

“Oh, I’m sure sandwich girl will be along any minute to mop up behind you. She seems to be coming earlier and earlier every day. Soon she’ll be waiting here with your breakfast when you walk in.”

“I can guarantee that won’t be happening today. I’ll be lucky to get stale bread crust with moldy cheese by supper.”

“Ooooohhhhh. This little fright fest this morning has to do with her. Interesting. Now you definitely need to tell me what happened.”

I watched Grant open the door to my office and stick his long neck around the corner to where Terryn sat at her desk. I couldn’t hear what he said, exactly, but he closed the door behind him when he came back, mischievous grin firmly in place.

“What did you just do, Twombley?”