Page 30 of Cameron's Contract

“You did ask me once, during a session.”

“That’s right.”

“I told you to fuck off and stop asking me questions.”

“I remember.”

“Hadn’t talked for weeks. You cracked me open like a nut. Used a psychological sledgehammer on me. Now you can’t get me to shut up.” He sighed deeply. “Sharks keep the ecosystem in balance.”

“You’re searching for balance.”

“I suppose we all are. You know me. If it’s frightening, I have to find out why. Sharks are not unlike humans in that if you show you’re not intimidated they’ll leave you alone. Stare them off. Bully them back and they relent.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You were feared at Harvard. You intimidated everyone with your intellect. The girls were too scared to approach you and the men weren’t quite sure how to take you.”

“I was friendly.”

“Your quick wit could decimate an ego,” he said. “When we first met, I was immediately intrigued.”

“Are you saying I’m like a shark?”

“You’re misunderstood.”

“You always got me.”

“Same here. Want me to fly out there?”

“I’ve got this, Richard. This feels like self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Get your shark fin on.”

Swim backwards…

“Prepare to freefall,” he said.

I let out a slow, steady breath.

“Cameron,” he said quietly. “Sharks can see in the dark.”

CHAPTER 9

HENRY PULLED THE door closed to Mom’s bedroom.

I strolled toward him along the sprawling corridor inlaid with white marble. Upon the walls hung large, High Renaissance paintings—all dramatic religious images that would have been just at home in the Vatican, and none of them conducive to calming the soul. Mom had told me she’d purchased them while visiting family in Rome.

Apparently Raphael’s young assistant had masterfully mimicked his work and these were proof of that. These dramatic styles had influenced the Renaissance and Baroque periods and changed the landscape of art irrevocably.

Henry tucked his hands into his pockets and paused before the painting depicting George and the Dragon. The horse glanced back lovingly at his rider as a knighted George pierced a spear through the dragon’s heart.

Henry pointed to it. “He practiced on this one. The final version’s hanging in the National Gallery in Washington.”

“Raphael’s assistant?”

Henry smiled. “Mom told you that so you wouldn’t be on her case.”

My gaze shot to the painting. “Everyone lies.”