Page 38 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
I’m angry at the way I’m spending my commencement day. Everyone else is out celebrating, and I’m here, trying to trick someone who’s basically a stranger into allowing me to move in. I’m also trying and failing to trick myself into believing this is a good idea.
You saw Lucy enter this building without her guard a month ago, and Asher wouldn’t let Lucy go anywhere dangerous. She knows him. He’s safe. Plus, Minka, it’s not like you have any other options. Don’t be picky. Beggars can’t be choosers.
I’m also fearful of what homelessness will mean for Mina’s future.
What happens if Social Services asks me where I’ve been living since graduating?
What would I say that would convince them that Mina won’t end up homeless, too, under my care?
Hi, my name is Minka Reynolds. I’ve been homeless for a bit, but don’t worry, guys. As soon as I sleep with the right guy, Mina and I will find a home and live happily ever after. I promise!
I doubt that’d go over well.
I’m also annoyed at my situation. Social Services should have never butt in in the first place; my sperm donor should have never left; Mina’s sperm donor, whoever he is, should have never left; and the good for nothing woman who gave birth to us should never have left either.
And some days, I feel like I belong in the category of people who have left.
After all, Mina and I aren’t together, and that means I’ve left her.
Even if it’s not of my own volition.
And lastly, I’m frustrated with myself right now. Here I am, on the steps of John’s neighbor’s brownstone, waiting for his response to my words. Whatever he says may determine my future—it may determine Mina’s future.
Yet, I can’t help but notice the unsympathetic expression in his dark brown eyes and feel winded.
He’s just that beautiful.
He’s like a precious statue in a museum. One that you can gape at from afar, but you’re not allowed to touch or even approach. And it’s not because he’s fragile. It’s because he, in all of his aesthetically perfect, stony glory, is worth more than you can even fathom, let alone ever dream of making in your lifetime.
So, I’m lucky I was able to get the words out before he even opened the door fully. Because one look at him dressed only in sweatpants, the deep grooves of his muscular chest bare for me to see, and I’m stunned into silence.
My brain chooses to replace that silence with memories of his lips against my jaw, his body pressed against mine, and his confusing words whispered into my ear. I try to force the memories out of my head and focus.
I feel vulnerable all of sudden as I wait for him to react.
To tell me to leave or tell me to stay.
And I don’t know which answer I would prefer.
After a solid minute of frozen silence, John’s neighbor frowns, hovering in front of his doorway, an unflinching boulder as he takes in my words. I watch wordlessly as his cold, brown eyes darken, and both of his brows dips slightly.
Whether it’s in disbelief or confusion or shock, I don’t know.
He’s as unreadable as ever. His expression shifts and moves, reacting to words and things like a normal person would, but unlike a normal person, I can’t read him.
I don’t know what he’s thinking when his full lips form a straight line.
I don’t know what he’s thinking when he runs his large hand through his thick brown hair.
I don’t know what he’s thinking when he sighs.
And all of this uncertainty is making me nervous.
It’s making me second guess my crazy plan, which I’m already second guessing enough.
I endeavor to sell the act better, because I need to be on my A game if I’m going to trick this guy. He’s indescribable in ways I’ve never encountered, and in this moment, the one thing he reminds me most of is a vault.
And you can’t trick a vault into giving you its password.
