CHAPTER 57
MARCO
MORE MYSTERY
My father’s study always smelled like old wood, whiskey, and secrets, things carved into the walls long before I was born. Tonight was no different. He sat behind his massive desk, fingers tapping idly as if every word I said was a leaf caught in a wind he controlled.
It was so annoying, him trying to be controlling and not f*****g telling me what was wrong.
“So, Marco, tell me again,” he drawled, leaning back, “who do you think that girl is?”
I opened my mouth, because honestly, I didn’t know. Everything about that girl settled and unsettled me at the same time. Her cold calmness, the way she spoke in riddles and the fact that I was drawn to her too quickly.
I mean, who the hell could tell I had a mate just by touching my skin.
“I have no idea w
