Page 41 of Stealing Infinity (Stolen Beauty)

I do as he says. I mean, I close my eyes, anyway. And even though I had no intention of examining my past (basically everything that occurred up until yesterday), a string of images still manages to scroll through my brain. Here’s what I see:

I miss Mason.

I miss the version of my mom that died the day my dad left.

And that’s pretty much it.

My eyes begin to sting. So I hold a few beats before I open them again. Arthur may see right through me, but I refuse to let him know how deeply he’s gotten to me.

“Never forget that out of all the possible candidates, I chose you.” His tone is more tempered now that he’s clearly maneuvered me right where he wants me. “And because of it, you’ve been granted admission to a world you never thought possible, where you have access to everything you could ever want—including everything you never knew you wanted because your life outside was so small, it stunted your vision. Gray Wolf is not only a place of unparalleled luxury and beauty, but one where you’ll transcend all your preconceived limits, and, in time, you will come to understand that the best thing about the past is that we get to pick and choose the parts that suit us and discard all the rest.”

The most I can do is blink and breathe. It’s a lot to take in, and I’m pretty sure Arthur prefers I not interrupt.

“You have something very special, Natasha. A very rare gift you’re just now becoming aware of. And I’m going to help you hone and develop that gift into something truly remarkable.”

My fingers pick nervously at the square of linen draped over my lap as I muster up the courage to ask, “And in return?”

My gaze tentatively meets his as he pauses to sip from his wine. It’s the same question I asked Braxton. But after listening to Arthur, I’m convinced he’s expecting to get a lot more out of this arrangement than the thrill of watching an underachiever reach their full potential.

“I mean, it’s a pretty big promise, so you’ve got to be expecting something in return for all of your…generosity?”

I watch as Arthur lowers his glass to the table, placing it just to the right of his plate. His manner is so precise, so deliberate, it reminds me of the old saying:How you do anything is how you do everything.And I know that where Arthur’s concerned, everything about this lunch has been orchestrated to bring us to this very moment. He’s expertly steered me straight into this port, and I didn’t even realize it until I was already docked.

Arthur pauses long enough to center that obsidian gaze upon mine.

“In return,” he says, “you’re going to help me fulfill my greatest ambition.”