All characters are at least 18 years old.
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I rode the elevator up to the seventieth floor. I personally would have picked the sixty-ninth, just for the memes. However, I wasn't an uptight prude, so I stepped out on the next floor up and walked right past the front desk. The receptionist sprang to her feet and clip-clopped after me in her wedge heels.
"Um, Miss Alexandria--" she stammered.
"Don't call me that," I said sharply. "Is he in?"
"Apologies. Um, Miss Rochester. He's out on business." A lie.
"Got it. I'll see myself in."
"Miss Rochester--!" she protested.
I went straight to his corner office -- which wasn't hard to find, it was huge -- and threw the double doors wide open. The windows were floor-to-ceiling and offered a beautiful view of the city. With one of the world's biggest metropolitan hubs laid visually at your feet, it was hard not to feel like the center of the world. Probably what made his head so big.
He was sat at his desk, not even looking up from his paperwork as his receptionist and I burst in. I walked over to the windows and gazed out at the horizon, looking past the city and all its scum and splendor.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rochester. I tried to stop her--" the receptionist babbled.
"Leave us, Emily," Charles ordered severely, not even batting an eye. Emily made a few more flustered sounds before closing the doors behind her as she left. Charles continued scribbling at his desk, not even sparing me a glance. I turned my attention to downtown, the streets packed with vehicles going about some business or another. We stayed like that for minutes, basically ignoring each other. Which wasn't that much different from any other time, in a way.
"I assume you conduct yourself with more etiquette and grace during your dealings?" he muttered, eyes still on his work.
"I thought clients liked when you played hard-to-get," I replied sarcastically.
"You must have a reason for coming here today. Save the chatter and tell me."
"You realize this is the first time I've come here?"
"I am aware, yes."
I scoffed. "I told Jordan I'd never been. He took me to the top of a skyscraper so I could experience the view for myself. Two days ago, August Nova almost threw himself off that same building." That got his attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he stopped writing and carefully set his pen down, looking up at me. "Yeah. You almost lost the game." I made my way back to his desk, sitting in one of the chairs opposite him and crossing my legs.
"Where is he now?" he asked.
"Safely at work, in the middle of a raid or something," I answered.
He interlocked his fingers, eyes trained on me. "So you know," he concluded, and I nodded. "And that brings us back to the question of why you are here."
"I want to know how this all came together."
He scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "I'm sure a phone call would've sufficed."
"Please don't make me work for it," I murmured. "I just want to know."
He pursed his lips as he considered it. "Very well. It was your uncle's idea. It was his pet project to begin with, after all. Jordan had volunteered to be a donor, and your uncle kept tabs on all the recipients. Not long after, this Nova boy began exhibiting different behavior. Ian paid closer attention and came to the conclusion that Jordan's spirit or some such lived on. He made contact with the boy's mother, and..." Charles snorted at this. "...went on to provide anything he could for the boy. The power of influence." He put extra emphasis on the word.
"Then?" I prompted.
"Then I betrothed you to him," he said simply.
"Wow. Think we might've skipped a few steps?" I commented. "Why'd you do it?"
He stood and strolled over to the windows, looking out at the city. Classic evasion tactic. "I've never needed a reason to do anything," he stated.
"Bullshit. You never do anything without reason. Isn't that what you stuffed up my ass my whole life?"
"No need to be vulgar, Alexandria."
"What game are you playing here?" I demanded. I stood and began pacing in front of the desk, and he turned to watch me. "None of it makes sense. I've seen it all by now. I had to diffuse a huge scandal at school, relocating an entire family and securing their silence. I navigated the idiocy of an insecure politician. I even dodged an assassination attempt from a cartel leader. But I still can't figure out: what is this game you're playing? I see the connection now, but why did you bring August to me?"
"If you can't understand what I did, then you're still not good enough to play with me."
"I
know,
" I snapped. "I know I'm only nineteen. I know there's still a lot to learn. And you keep rubbing my goddamn face in it. I hate you!" He frowned at me. Fucking hell, don't cry in front of him. Deep breaths. "Why can't you just... Tell me, did you... have Jordan killed?"
His nostrils flared, anger blazing in his eyes. "How dare you," he growled.
"He was... everything," I whispered.
"...I know."
And suddenly it clicked. The reason for all of this. It had never occurred to me, because I'd ruled it out. I couldn't be with Jordan. But I could be with August. It was a loophole of sorts, and I could see the logic now. Was it... an apology? My head was spinning, I couldn't keep up with all the possible explanations. Charles didn't kill Jordan, and that change in that basic assumption forced me to reevaluate the entire sequence of events. And the final conclusion... God fucking damn it.
"I think I understand now, father," I murmured, and he arched a brow. "Well played. You took him away, so now you're giving him back. You had to push me into the engagement 'cause you knew if you were nice about it, I'd be even more suspicious and just walk away without giving it a chance. And you'd said it, right at the top: 'You will marry him, one way or another.'" I grit my teeth. "And you were right. Why do you always have to be right?
"Again, well fucking played," I sighed, then glared at him. "Don't think this changes anything between us. I'm still going to beat you at this stupid game. One day, I'm going to win."
"I expect nothing less," he replied, a bit of mirth making his eyes glitter.