Captivated (Talented Saga #3.5) Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Sophie Davis
begged for the concession. Once we were in
the McDonough’s home, Gretchen would be able to monitor any and all
of our mental communications. Unlike Mac, Gretchen wasn’t devious,
she simply worried about me. Any eavesdropping would be out of
concern; she worried that I was more affected by what had happened
with Penny than I was letting on. Her assessment was correct. I
tried to keep my inner turmoil from spilling out, but that task was
easier said than done. Pretending that the girl who had once been
my best friend was now my mortal enemy, and that I was happy about
her scheduled execution were not easy tasks. The doctors, Mac, even
Gretchen thought I should hate Penny. But no matter how hard I
tried, I just couldn’t muster the sentiment.
Erik and I sat in the back seat,
holding hands, for the duration of the five minute journey to Mac’s
house. He traced small, slow circles on my palm, a calming gesture
that I appreciated immensely. My earlier anger with Mac was still
tingeing my emotions red. I tried to mask my resentment from Erik,
no point in giving him more reason to dislike the Direction. But
being more susceptible to my feelings than most, he still felt
it.
Gretchen stood framed in the
doorway, sunlight catching the white, blonde strands of hair that
had escaped her bun, when we pulled up the drive. She held a
dishtowel in her hands, wringing it obsessively out of nervous
habit. While she had been the biggest supporter of Erik’s visit,
she was uneasy about the four of us – Gretchen, Mac, Erik, and me –
being under the same roof for two days. Thankfully, Donovan had
suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be for the weekend. I
wasn’t the only one relieved that we wouldn’t have the two boys’
antagonistic relationship to contend with, Mac had approved the
weekend away without interrogation.
When Mac brought the car to a stop
and turned off the engine, I gave Erik’s hand a reassuring squeeze
and offered him the most genuine smile I could muster. The nervous
energy rolling off of him was evident, he saw staying in the
McDonough’s home as a putting himself in the lion’s den. I didn’t
blame him. I’d lived with Mac and Gretchen for years, and I still
felt that way sometimes.
“Erik, welcome,” Gretchen said
warmly, holding out a hand to relieve him of the duffle
bag.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs.
McDonough,” Erik replied politely. He shook his head in response to
her offer to carry his bag, but did shake her hand.
“I have the guest room ready for
you, but my son is out of town for the weekend and his room is
closer to Talia’s if you would be more comfortable there?” Gretchen
moved aside and gestured for us to enter.
“He will be fine in the guest
room,” Mac interjected.
“The guest room is perfect,
ma’am,” Erik said quickly, though his easy compliance had nothing
to do with a need to please Mac. Erik found the thought of sleeping
in Donavon’s bed less appealing than torture.
Gretchen led the way through the
foyer, past the kitchen, and down a long hallway to the right – the
guest wing. Since Mac was the Director of Toxic and prominent
people frequently visited the School, the McDonough’s home had an
entire guest wing to accommodate said important people. I’d stayed
in one of the rooms with my parents when I was young. Or, at least,
I thought I had. The memory was a little hazy, but walking down the
hallway with its mahogany painted walls and portraits of past Toxic
Directors triggered something in my mind. It was the same feeling I
experienced every time I ventured down this corridor, which was
rare. Today, though, the sensation was stronger. I could imagine my
toddler-self sliding down the wooden floor on stocking
feet.
The guest room was actually a
suite, complete with a sitting room, bathroom, and tiny kitchenette
for morning coffee and late night cocktails. A brown leather sofa
and two matching arm chairs congregated around a wooden coffee
table with
the McDonough’s home, Gretchen would be able to monitor any and all
of our mental communications. Unlike Mac, Gretchen wasn’t devious,
she simply worried about me. Any eavesdropping would be out of
concern; she worried that I was more affected by what had happened
with Penny than I was letting on. Her assessment was correct. I
tried to keep my inner turmoil from spilling out, but that task was
easier said than done. Pretending that the girl who had once been
my best friend was now my mortal enemy, and that I was happy about
her scheduled execution were not easy tasks. The doctors, Mac, even
Gretchen thought I should hate Penny. But no matter how hard I
tried, I just couldn’t muster the sentiment.
Erik and I sat in the back seat,
holding hands, for the duration of the five minute journey to Mac’s
house. He traced small, slow circles on my palm, a calming gesture
that I appreciated immensely. My earlier anger with Mac was still
tingeing my emotions red. I tried to mask my resentment from Erik,
no point in giving him more reason to dislike the Direction. But
being more susceptible to my feelings than most, he still felt
it.
Gretchen stood framed in the
doorway, sunlight catching the white, blonde strands of hair that
had escaped her bun, when we pulled up the drive. She held a
dishtowel in her hands, wringing it obsessively out of nervous
habit. While she had been the biggest supporter of Erik’s visit,
she was uneasy about the four of us – Gretchen, Mac, Erik, and me –
being under the same roof for two days. Thankfully, Donovan had
suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be for the weekend. I
wasn’t the only one relieved that we wouldn’t have the two boys’
antagonistic relationship to contend with, Mac had approved the
weekend away without interrogation.
When Mac brought the car to a stop
and turned off the engine, I gave Erik’s hand a reassuring squeeze
and offered him the most genuine smile I could muster. The nervous
energy rolling off of him was evident, he saw staying in the
McDonough’s home as a putting himself in the lion’s den. I didn’t
blame him. I’d lived with Mac and Gretchen for years, and I still
felt that way sometimes.
“Erik, welcome,” Gretchen said
warmly, holding out a hand to relieve him of the duffle
bag.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs.
McDonough,” Erik replied politely. He shook his head in response to
her offer to carry his bag, but did shake her hand.
“I have the guest room ready for
you, but my son is out of town for the weekend and his room is
closer to Talia’s if you would be more comfortable there?” Gretchen
moved aside and gestured for us to enter.
“He will be fine in the guest
room,” Mac interjected.
“The guest room is perfect,
ma’am,” Erik said quickly, though his easy compliance had nothing
to do with a need to please Mac. Erik found the thought of sleeping
in Donavon’s bed less appealing than torture.
Gretchen led the way through the
foyer, past the kitchen, and down a long hallway to the right – the
guest wing. Since Mac was the Director of Toxic and prominent
people frequently visited the School, the McDonough’s home had an
entire guest wing to accommodate said important people. I’d stayed
in one of the rooms with my parents when I was young. Or, at least,
I thought I had. The memory was a little hazy, but walking down the
hallway with its mahogany painted walls and portraits of past Toxic
Directors triggered something in my mind. It was the same feeling I
experienced every time I ventured down this corridor, which was
rare. Today, though, the sensation was stronger. I could imagine my
toddler-self sliding down the wooden floor on stocking
feet.
The guest room was actually a
suite, complete with a sitting room, bathroom, and tiny kitchenette
for morning coffee and late night cocktails. A brown leather sofa
and two matching arm chairs congregated around a wooden coffee
table with