Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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"SO, ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THE real reason you're here?" Atalanta's greeting came to him as he descended the staircase.
Matthew scowled at his sister, who sat in the sitting room before a flickering fire, with papers strewn about on the cushions. Her hair was settled atop her head in a lopsided knot, a pen sticking through it, her glasses perched halfway down her nose, and a wine glass sat atop a hefty looking law book on the coffee table.
"Did you sleep at all?" Matthew asked, watching her pull the pen from her hair and twirl it about before scribbling something onto a notepad.
"No," she snapped, dropping her pencil, "I was studying. And you didn't answer my question, Matty."
"And I'm not going to," said Matthew, leaning against the doorframe. "The less you know the better."
"And if you happen to end up in a body bag, what shall I tell our mother? Since I don't know anything." Atalanta turned her full attention on him now.
She'd been instantly suspicious when he'd shown up yesterday to tell her he'd be studying at Arrowsmith. Her eyes had narrowed and the first question to fall from her lips was one word: Why?
Matthew had lied, of course, and his sister was smart enough to know it.
Atalanta was the only one who knew of Matthew's real dealings in London. She knew the situation while their mother didn't. Matthew would keep it that way. After their father's death two years ago, the last thing Sophie al Nassar needed was to know that everyday Matthew engaged in illicit activities that could either get him arrested or killed.
"There will be no body bags, Atalanta," reassured Matthew, crossing his arms.
Atalanta returned the gesture and the siblings held each other's stares for a long moment. Surprisingly, Atalanta was the first to look away, something Matthew could not recall ever happening.
His sister was bright and willful, always had been. She blazed through high school, Arrowsmith, actually, and then university and law school, and she studied now for the bar which he knew beyond a doubt she would pass. She could argue her way out of hell, a talent that hadn't properly passed to him, for he was still stuck in hell and saw no exact way out yet.
The fact that she looked away was a testament to her worry.
Matthew repeated again, the same thing he'd told her two years ago when he'd first gotten into this mess, "It'll be fine."
Atalanta barely relaxed, shoulders still tense. Matthew couldn't promise her any more than that. He wasn't sure that was even a promise he was capable of keeping. This business with Arrowsmith seemed far too odd for him to be able to say it would be okay.
"And your friend?" She asked after a beat.
"He's fine," Matthew sais shortly, unwilling to share more with her about Anakin, for her own good.
