Chapter 227

Grace

Exhaustion clawed at my limbs, but it was nothing compared to the way my mind ached at the thought of going back to work tomorrow. The day's events replayed in my mind. Edgar hadn't let up one bit. Every time he spoke to me, it felt like I was being punched in the gut. My decision to send Eason and Amira had haunted me from the moment they had left until the end of the day because even when Amira came back to the office later that afternoon, she'd been snowed under with everything that had built up while she'd gone.

If I hadn't sent them both away, I wouldn't have looked like such an idiot in front of Edgar. It made me sick, the way he'd sauntered out for the day, promising to come back as early as possible the next day.

I had to face it. I fucked up. I'd let that jackass goad me into sending my help away and had gotten the mental beating of a lifetime again. The look of hurt on Amira's flashed through my mind, and the fact that Eason didn't even look bothered irritated me.

Then, again, he'd told me, hadn't he? He had his own life, and he wasn't going to keep it on hold any longer.

I almost hoped he left sooner rather than later. Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid than sitting on pins and needles worrying about when it would happen exactly. As I stepped out of the building and walked toward the awaiting car, the weight of the world seemed to press down on me. Each step towards the car felt heavier than the last. Was there anyone but the kids at home? I dreaded finding out.

Reaching the car, I sank into the back seat, the leather cool against my burning skin. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But I blinked them back. The driver pulled away from the curb as I tried to focus on everything I needed to do to be ready for him tomorrow.

I couldn't let him just keep beating me around like this.

The city lights blurred into streaks of color, like flashes of lights from my memories. Emotions swirled within me. Guilt, anger, and a simmering defiance battled for dominance. That bastard wanted to ruin me. I couldn't let him.

The car pulled in front of the house. I stepped out into the silence of the night and looked up at the house. As I stood there, the weight of the day, a single thought echoed in my mind: "How was I going to do this?"

Edgar was just part of the problem, the beginning of the problem. I had to get through him to get to the heart of it: Fenris, Sean, and whatever their true goals were. I squared my shoulders, the familiar strength returning to my spine. There would be time to dissect the events of the day, analyze my decisions, and come up with a plan of attack against Edgar. But for now, I needed rest, a clear head, and a bit of peace. I walked towards the house, ready to face whatever awaited me, alone if need be. The thought irritated me. The silence inside the house made it worse. I expected Charles to be back by now, but the silence within the house was deafening.

Just as concern was about to prickle through the layers of my exhaustion, the front door swung open behind me. I turned around to see Charles. He held a stack of books in his arms, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," he offered, a smile playing on his lips. "Rough day?"

His question, though well-intentioned, hit me wrong. It felt generic, devoid of the concern I craved.

"Rough day," I confirmed, my voice curt. "Long, exhausting, and filled with my new liaison."

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, but it was quickly replaced by concern. "He's here already? What happened?"

He started to step closer, his hand reaching out as if to comfort me. But I instinctively took a step back, the gesture feeling hollow against the backdrop of my day.

"I'll tell you later," I said, my voice flat. "Right now, I'm just… tired."

He seemed to understand, his hand retracting awkwardly.

"Of course," he mumbled, the smile fading. "Well, there should be leftovers still."

"You're not cooking tonight?" I asked.

"I'm not sure when I'll be finished with…" he trailed off, gesturing towards the books.

"Finished with what?" I asked, curiosity overcoming my irritation. The stack of books seemed odd in his hands.

"Research," he said, avoiding my gaze. "Things for the Clans."

His response felt evasive, adding fuel to the fire of my frustration. We hadn't truly finished our conversation from before, and the lack of genuine interest grated on my nerves. I felt the lingering tension and frustration between us like a live wire.

"Research," I repeated, more a statement than a question. "That requires you to be out all day? With nothing more than a short message? No explanation?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"If you're not going to tell me what's been going on," I said, my voice firmer than I intended. "I don't want to hear it."

He glanced down at the books in his hand and then up to my face.

"Okay."

I flushed. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

He turned and walked around me, not even bothering with his coat, as he headed toward his office. I stood there, stumped and growing more pissed by the moment.

"That's all you have to say?" I asked, coming after him.

"I'm not a man to be threatened," Charles said as he reached the upper floor and turned down the hallway. "I can acknowledge your curiosity, your interest in my day, but that doesn't mean I can, will, or have to tell you everything."

He reached the office, cradling the books carefully as he opened the door and walked in. He set the books on the table almost tenderly before taking off his jacket.

"You're acting like I'm asking the world of you. Aren't we supposed to be involved? You've been gone for two days without... without any explanation." I glanced down at the books as he started to set them on his desk. He opened two of them, but the pages seemed blank.

"You're setting up journals to look like you're busy? Aren't you just avoiding me at this point?"

He frowned and looked down at the pages, then back up at me. "You can't read any of these pages?"

"They're blank, Charles."

His lips twitched. There was something dark in his eyes.

"Are you going to tell me why you seem more invested in blank books than in what happened to me today?"

The air crackled with unspoken tension. Charles' jaw tightened, his usually carefree demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. He took a deep breath and leaned over the books, shaking his head.

"You're..." He shook his head again and stood at his full height. He rounded the desk and backed me up toward the door. "If I were a lesser man, I'd have a lot more to say about what you're asking me."

My heart hammered in my chest, a mixture of apprehension and a strange sense of anticipation coursing through me. This wasn't the conversation I expected. I felt just on the edge of the kind of tension that would have us crashing together, breathless and sweaty within a few moments.

Then, he stopped. He stood in the doorway of his office, looking down at me. He leaned on the doorjamb and met my gaze. The air between us felt electric, charged with unspoken tension, but there was no heat in his eyes. His chin lifted, eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Grace," he began, his voice surprisingly firm, "I understand your frustration. I truly do. But I won't be your punching bag, not tonight."

My mouth opened in protest, but his next words cut me to the core. "I heard about today," he continued, his voice softening. "About how you sent Eason and Amira away. I don't know what you were thinking, what you wanted to prove by dealing with him alone on his first day in town, but you can't put your regret on me."

His words hit harder than any of Edgar's veiled insults. My cheeks burned as a wave of embarrassment washed over me. Before I could conjure a defense, Charles spoke again.

"Eason and Amira called me separately. Amira wanted me to come and get some sense into you."

I set my jaw. "And Eason."

He smirked. "Gave me a warning that he wasn't going to be around and to not let you use me as target practice.

He reached out and cupped my face. The warmth of his hand soothed something in me and stroked something else.

"I'm concerned. Of course, I am. I want to understand, to help, but this... Picking a fight with me or anyone else isn't productive. When you're calmer, when you're ready to have a conversation, not... this, I'm here. I'm always here. But I won't let you lash out in anger. You deserve better, and so do I."

He took a deep breath, his features softening. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and pulled away.

Before I could speak, he closed the door in my face.