Page 63 of Theirs to Corrupt
“At this point, the idea of Titans doesn’t seem any crazier than anything else. That influential, wealthy people would get together at an undisclosed location to discuss ideas, politics, try to solve world problems…”
He steeples his hands, quietly waiting for me to go on.
I shrug. “Other secret societies exist.”
He waits.
“At exclusive colleges, for example.” Warming to my topic, I study him carefully. “There’s one that three former presidents belong to, along with two previous supreme court appointees.”
As I score my point, he inclines his head to one side.
“So, if such an organization exists, I’d have no problem believing Link was a member.” I look at Pax, studying the strong lines of his face. “Question is, are you?”
He says nothing, but I notice a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“Is being a Titan a matter of birth?” I press, leaning forward.
“I’m sure, hypothetically, that couldn’t hurt,” Pax replies, his voice low and measured.
“Legacy. Like a lot of things.”
“Yet if it were limited to that criteria, what would the point be?”
I nod slowly as things fall into place. “That’s why people like Julien Bonds might have joined.” After referencing the Genius of the Known Universe, I pause and gently swirl my stem. The wine catches the light, glinting like liquid gold.
“Ifsuch a group actually existed,” he clarifies.
“Right.” Since he hasn’t told me I’m ridiculous or changed the subject, I’m more convinced than ever that at least one of my future husbands is a Titan.
Pax picks up his wine but doesn’t take a sip.
I take his silence as an invitation to continue.
“At least tell me about Hawkeye.”
“The man?”
“The myth, the legend,” I add, grinning.
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Something like that.”
All tension vanishes, and for that moment, I’m enjoying myself.
Since he hasn’t shut down my questioning, I press forward. “I’m curious about the company itself. I mean, obviously you’re adept at protective services. And I see online that the firm provides paramilitary operations.”
“Yeah.”
“And that many people who work there are former members of the military—especially special forces. And police. Even FBI, CIA. All the letters of the alphabet.”
“Youhavebeen doing your research,” Pax says, his tone a mixture of amusement and admiration.
“You were military.” That’s about the only thing I’m sure of.
I half expect him to dodge my statement. Instead he’s straightforward.
“Army.” He pauses, and I bite back my impatience and wait for him to go on. “Like my father before me.”
“Oh?” Intrigued, I shift, and the soft fabric of my dress seems to whisper against my skin.