Page 79 of Shark’s Edge

Isn’t that what people say about their pets?

And be with my mom and dad.

Goodbye, Sebastion,

It’s an a. Fucking t-i-a-n.

Cinnamon Spice

What was I supposed to do with something like this? I mean, really? First thought, obviously, was the circular file. On any other day of the year, it would’ve already been in there. However, I already had one woman’s death hanging over my questionable conscience. Not sure what a second one would do to my mental state.

Add in the situation with Abbigail. Something about her was gnawing away at the very fiber of my being.

No, not something.

Everything.

How could that be? How could she be affecting me so fundamentally when I barely knew her? But I could guess what she would do in the same situation, and every instinct told me it was the exact opposite of my first inclination. Was that a bad thing? Probably. More than probably . . . It was an absolute, resounding affirmative.

I’d never been willing to change who I was. Not for Pia and Vela. Not for Grant. Not even for the memory of my mother. I was proud of the man I’d become. I’d worked hard to get here. At my core, I was a good man. I did the right thing. Always. People didn’t always agree with the route I took to get to the final destination, possibly, but the end goal was always the right outcome. I did what I had to in order to win, and usually that lined up with what was best for my fellow man. I rarely did something solely for myself.

Terryn interrupted my musings with a call to announce Ms. Gibson’s arrival. After she rolled in with her stainless-steel cart, I kept my distance as she set up my lunch in the usual spot. If she noticed the décor out of place from my tussle with Grant, she didn’t mention it. I waited while she carefully arranged the food and silverware, and then I positioned myself in front of the door. There was only one way in and out of my office, and I blocked her path to it.

“We’re going to talk this out, Abbigail. Whether you want to or not, it’s going to happen. I tried reaching you last night, as I’m sure you’re aware. I don’t appreciate being ignored. But that stops now.”

She glared at me. That was all. Just glared. No words of protest. No tears for me today. Just an icy stare that would’ve ruined a lesser man.

Silly girl.

Silly.

Silly . . .

. . . girl.

Chapter Thirteen

Abbi

“Dammit.”

So much for every precaution I’d taken to banish the word from my mind and lips. For three awesome seconds, I thought I had the self-control nailed—until Sebastian fielded my iciest glower like it’d come from a paltry commoner summoned to court.

Three seconds.

That was really all it had taken.

Three seconds filled with his commanding stance and his steely gaze. I wasn’t about to ask about the bruise that swelled high on his cheek, even though I really wanted to. Just one charge in his no-isn’t-an-answer-choice baritone, and I’d lost it. Spit the word out with my frustration cranked to max.

But did I really ever have a choice in the matter?

Rhetorical question.

I’d been screwed from the second Terryn’s order pinged into the online order queue this morning, with the extra details that were always typical for her boss. Sebastian Shark wore his impatience and insolence as perfectly as his bespoke navy-blue suit and dazzling dark-gold tie. It was high fashion, worn by a dark-haired god who effortlessly turned it into his own.

Good God. He was so beautiful, it was surreal.

Dammit.