Read Online Insecure by Ainslie Paton - Free Book Online Page B

He looked down at his leg, hooked up on the seat, but that was the only hint of emotion in him.
    She couldn’t ask the question she wanted to. “How old were you?”
    â€œSeven.”
    But she couldn’t not ask it either. Something about what he didn’t say. “Were you there?”
    He looked up and sighed.
    â€œYou can tell me to shut up.” But if he did, she’d feel cheated, depleted somehow.
    â€œWould you shut up if I took you into the bedroom?”
    She gave him back a dose of the silent treatment he was so good at dishing out. But if he dragged her in there by the hair she’d do what she could to help him.
    He dropped his head forward and rubbed the back of his neck. “One minute she was holding my hand, the next she stepped out on the road. I remember the driver’s face. He was screaming before he even hit her.”
    â€œOh God.” It was her turn to look away from the flatness in his eyes.
    â€œDon’t.” He touched her foot and she brought her vision back to him, confused. He’d closed more distance between them. “You have nothing to feel bad about.”
    â€œI’m not so great at casual conversation either. I don’t know how not to push the point. It works in business, but otherwise I make everything too serious.”
    He said, “Princess Severe,” but his hand was warm over her instep.
    â€œApparently so.”
    He shifted again and her foot was in both of his hands. He stuck a thumb into her sole and it hurt. She flinched and he pressed again, but this time she was ready for it. “What are you doing?” He stroked up her instep and the move was inextricably connected to her eyelids. She closed her eyes and groaned.
    â€œWhy are you glad you don’t look like your mother?”
    â€œShe was so beautiful she never had to learn to do anything for herself. I didn’t want to be like that. I wanted to be like Malcolm. I wanted to be powerful and independent. I wanted to run my own life, not need someone to run it for me.”
    â€œLooks like you got that.”
    She nodded. She had the career she’d dreamed about and trained for, the future she’d worked for, almost ripe enough to pluck.
    â€œWhy do you hate him?”
    She opened her eyes and fell into his. His hands were on her feet, but his gaze was all over her face. She rested her head back on a tower of cushions. He started on her toes. It hurt. She had tension in her toes, how the heck was that possible? “I don’t hate him.”
    His hands stilled. She lifted her head, wondering if he’d gotten bored and gone back to watching TV. He was watching her. He’d remembered. “He’s not a good person.” Mace’s hands started moving again.
    Malcolm was a genius, a ruthless, arrogant, controlling mastermind. He’d taken a small, privatised credit union and built a global financial services organisation with offices on four continents in fifteen years. But he was also a corporate psychopath, utterly lacking in empathy, brutally uncaring about anything except the business, and capable of destroying anything and anyone standing in the way of his plans. And that extended to family. He’d sidelined his eldest son, Bryan, without a hint of regret when he’d judged him too soft to be of value to Wentworth Finance.
    She didn’t want Mace to stop. “He was a terrible stepfather.”
    He’d been absent and cold. And from what she’d watched Bryan and Thomas go through, not much better as a father. Bryan was ousted from Wentworth four years ago with nothing but a handshake, and a letter telling him he’d voided his claim to a redundancy payout by being incompetent. Father and son hadn’t spoken since. Malcolm had a granddaughter he’d never bothered meeting. She shivered. That wasn’t going to happen to her. Bryan got distracted by marriage and his passion for flying light