Page 13 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)
Chapter Twelve
S loane
The silence in Bradley’s Tesla is suffocating. Even as we drive toward Marcello’s, I can’t stop thinking about the way Thad’s snakes drooped when I left, and the barely concealed hurt in those haunting tawny eyes.
Bradley makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat as one manicured hand adjusts the temperature controls. “So. The Gorgon.” His tone manages to make the word sound like something distasteful he’s found on the bottom of his designer shoes.
“His name is Thaddeus,” I say, keeping my voice neutral despite the heat rising to my face.
“Thaddeus, then.” Bradley’s fingers tap against the steering wheel, something that’s always irritated me. “I’m surprised Charles allows you to spend so much time with him. Hardly seems appropriate for the mayor’s daughter.”
“Allow?” My outrage somehow makes that into a three-syllable word, then snap, “Appropriate? He’s a respected teacher and community member.”
“He’s a monster enforcer ,” Bradley corrects, his practiced smile not reaching his eyes. “And whatever little… exploration you’re going through is fine for your article, but let’s not pretend it’s anything more.”
I turn to face him fully, something hard and angry unfurling in my chest. “Exploration?”
“We all have our rebellious phases.” His condescending tone makes my skin crawl. “I dated a siren during business school. Exotic, exciting—but ultimately, impractical.”
“This isn’t about—”
“I went to considerable trouble to arrange this evening,” he interrupts, his tone tinged with injured pride. “The private room at Marcello’s isn’t easy to book, even for a Harrington. The least you could do is pretend to appreciate it.”
I shift uncomfortably in the butter-soft leather seat. “You know, I should have called to cancel. There was an accident at—”
“Yes, the Y. With your monster project .” His casual dismissal of Thad makes me feel as though molten metal is flowing through my veins. “Charles mentioned you’ve been spending quite a bit of time on that article. Though I wasn’t aware it required… home visits.”
The implied judgment sits between us like caustic gas. Through the windshield, Marcello’s comes into view—all warm lighting, expensive cars, and carefully curated appearances. My father’s world. The world I’ve never had the strength to rebel against until recently.
“What exactly is your problem with Thad?” I ask, my voice harsher than intended.
Bradley’s polished veneer cracks slightly, his jaw tightening. “My problem? I don’t have a problem. I have concerns. About you throwing away everything you’ve worked for—everything your father has built—for some… infatuation with an obsolete enforcer who is another species with snakes for hair .”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“I know his kind,” Bradley says, his voice hardening. “I know what enforcers did before the Revelation. The fear they used. The threats they made.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Is that what this is about? Did Thad scare you off monster territory back in the day?”
His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. Bull’s eye.
“That’s not—” Bradley composes himself with visible effort. “This isn’t about me. It’s about your future. Our future. The plans we’ve discussed.”
“ We’ve never discussed any plans.” The realization hits like ice water. “My father did. With your father.”
Bradley’s silence is damning.
“Pull over.”
He frowns. “We’re almost—”
“Pull. Over.”
Maybe it’s my tone, or perhaps he’s just surprised by the deviation from his script, but he complies, guiding the Tesla to the curb half a block from the restaurant.
“This isn’t you, Sloane.” His voice tries to take on the tone of a concerned mentor but only manages to sound like a condescending patriarch. “This new obsession with monster rights, that bleeding-heart blog stirring up the past—”
“Obsession?” The laugh that escapes holds no humor. “You think I’m doing this as a… stunt?”
“What else could it be? You had a promising career in New York, connections, a future. Now you’re running around with monster enforcers and writing exposés that nobody wants to read.”
“Nobody wants to read?” I lean forward, anger propelling my words. “My readership has burgeoned in just the last week. People are hungry for the truth, Bradley. The real stories about integration, not the sanitized version you and my father want to sell.”
Something ugly flashes across his handsome face. “Your little blog is causing problems. My father’s company—”
“Your father’s company has been pressuring monster business owners to sell below value,” I cut in, watching his expression shift from surprise to calculation.
“That’s the truth, right? That’s why you care about my ‘monster obsession’—creating support for them is threatening your family’s business interests. ”
His voice softens slightly, and for a moment I see the boy I grew up with instead of the calculated businessman.
“Look, maybe I’m going about this all wrong.
But I watched you leave for New York with such big dreams, and I’ve watched your father worry about your happiness ever since you came back.
I know this sounds patronizing, but I don’t want to see you get hurt by someone who can’t give you the stability you deserve.
The life we both know you’re capable of building. ”
His hand reaches for mine. I immediately pull away.
“Your father and mine have plans—”
“Plans?” The pieces click suddenly into horrible focus. “Oh, my God. This isn’t just about the merger of their companies, is it? This is about me. I’m part of the merger.”
His silence is answer enough.
“I’m not going to dinner.” My hand finds the door handle.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Bradley’s voice hardens, his mask slipping. “This has always been the arrangement. Why else did you think our fathers encouraged us to date? You come home, we make it official, your father backs my father’s development plans, everyone wins.”
“Everyone except the monsters whose businesses get forced out,” I counter, disgust rising in my throat. “And… everyone except me, apparently.”
“You’ll be a Harrington!” Frustration colors his words. “Do you understand what that means? The doors that will open? The influence you’ll have?”
“I understand exactly what it means.” The door handle is cool under my palm. “It means trading my integrity for your family name. It means pretending I don’t see the truth. It means choosing the easy, convenient path instead of what’s right.”
“And what’s right is choosing a Gorgon ?” Bradley’s laugh is sharp, disbelieving, contemptuous. “You can’t be serious, Sloane. What can he offer you that I can’t? Security? Status? A future?”
“Honesty.” The word tastes like freedom on my tongue. “You know what the difference is between you and Thad? He uses intimidation as a power, but you use it as a privilege. And only one of you is honest about it.”
“Sloane—”
But I’m already out of the car, the evening air cool against my heated skin. My phone buzzes with what’s probably my father’s number, but I silence it without looking.
“This isn’t over,” Bradley calls after me, his icy composure finally shattered. “Your father won’t—”
“Goodnight, Bradley.” I don’t look back as I walk away, each step feeling like choosing who I want to be—the proper daughter making the expected alliance, or the journalist who kisses Gorgons and exposes truths and doesn’t care who it makes uncomfortable.
The walk back to the water tower takes forty minutes in impractical shoes. At least they aren’t my Louboutins. Every step feels like freedom. Every ache in my calves reminds me I’m walking toward something real.
For a moment, I consider texting Thad to ask him to pick me up. But the thought of him trying to navigate those spiral stairs in his current condition makes me wince. He’d probably try anyway, the stubborn Gorgon, and end up making his injury worse just to play hero. No, this walk is mine to make.
Besides, after forty minutes of anticipation, of choosing him over everything safe and expected, I have plans for that water tower. Plans that definitely require him to conserve his energy.