Page 46 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Despite all the evidence suggesting he’s purer than driven snow, there’s a rock in my gut.
He has awards and credentials for days. Achievements, trophies, photo ops with movers and shakers across art, politics, and academia.
There’s no denying his connections. Every big-time antiquities dealer worth his salt has probably heard of Jasper Fairfax.
And yet…
The man behind the façade, the man himself, barely seems to exist. Jasper’s a phantom on social media, though what I found on his education and personal properties checks out.
Still, little else.
No details about his upbringing, his home life, his hobbies. For a man who’s been in the public eye plenty, there’s little to say where he came from.
Unusual.
Then there’s the fact that Fairfax had dealings with oligarchs from Russia and Central Asia in the past.
Not a crime by itself. Only, the average oligarch was one degree removed from organized crime.
Business as usual for that part of the world in that era, yes. It’s also a tiny, waving red flag.
Still, I can’t get bent out of shape over old friends.
It’s probably fine.
If Cleo knew what I was thinking, she’d call me paranoid and laugh in my face.
I keep my guard up by nature when the stakes are this high. Better to err on the side of caution than risk disaster.
And I don’t just mean with the egg, either.
I glance at the suitcase, safely strapped into the empty seat next to me. Then I look at Cleo, hunkered down in her blankets, her mouth open and snoring softly.
I smile.
I’ve always sheltered this girl against her own misplaced instincts. Kids like to think they know better when they damn well don’t.
A memory creeps in, one I’d almost forgotten.
Last time I blinked, she was seventeen and still the biggest pain in my ass. Trying to drink wine from the cellar, aiming to sneak out with boys.
Keeping an eye on her was a full-time job I hated being stuck with.
Definitely not the kind of job I wanted with a young daughter and a dead girlfriend. Life faded greyer, a little darker, a little more hopeless and nihilistic than I ever imagined.
If it wasn’t for Kit, it would’ve broke me.
Leonidas was firm about the fact that he wanted me to stay on and help make sure little Nile didn’t blow up her life.
Ethan’s meltdowns left him scared for Cleo, and he was determined to keep her out of trouble.
What the fuck could I do but my best?
I screwed my fucking head on straight so I could chase down that girl and give her one more mostly innocent summer. The kind every grown kid deserves.
Not perfect—far from it—but I’d like to think she walked away with a pinch of respect that year. Respect for other people, respect for her own body, respect for herself.
Like Leonidas, I wanted her to grow up knowing she had folks in her corner who’ll always have her back.
