Intuition by C. J. Omololu Page A

finally speaking some sense,” his father says, pulling himself up to a standing position and straightening his tunic. I know that he won’t easily forgive the physical display, but I can see that Connor’s strength has made him wary. “She should go, and stop playing the lady.” He stands at his full height as he regards us, dabbing at the small cut on his lip with his sleeve. “For she will never be mistress of this estate as long as I have the breath to forbid it.”
    Connor’s eyes are steady on his father as he speaks. “Then prepare to lose another son, for I would rather live the rest of my life as a pauper with my beloved than endure one more day of privilege without her. She is my wife, with or without your blessing.”
    I put my hand on Connor’s chest to stop him from speaking, overwhelmed by all of the trouble I have caused. “Stop. You don’t mean that.” I look up into his green eyes, but then look away, unable to say what I must. I push past him and rush out the door, the heavy wood and iron slamming behind me. I’ve barely made it twenty paces when I feel a pull on my arm.
    â€œDon’t,” Connor says, putting a finger to my lips as I start to speak. “Just listen. For one moment, just listen to what I have to say.” His eyes soften as he brushes a strand of hair from my
shoulder. “I meant every word. I can live without the estate and the title, the trinkets and the travel to foreign lands. I can live without my family. But I cannot live another day without you.”
    Connor pries my fingers open and lets the pendant dangle from its chain, kissing the ruby before tenderly fastening the clasp around my neck once again. “You are my family. The only family that I’ll ever need. Whatever happens, we are meant to be together. Forever.”
    Forever.
The word echoes in my ears as the memory fades and the black velvet box comes into focus. My heart is still pounding as I think of the fight, of the look in Connor’s eyes as he spoke, of the truth that I now remember in them.
    â€œI had the earrings made for you,” Drew says softly. “Before . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but we both know. Before Connor was killed. “But they were lost to time.”
    I look at how the silver shines. These earrings aren’t like the pendant—they lack the same weight and age. “So you made these?”
    Drew nods sadly. “I did. I only wish they were the originals.”
    â€œThey’re beautiful.” I have to say it, because it’s true.
    Drew leans in, but before he can say anything else, I feel a heavy sense of foreboding. I look up through the window in the practice-room door and see Griffon standing in the hallway staring at the two of us.
    â€œDamn.” I pull myself away from Drew, and yank the door open. Griffon doesn’t move, just looks at me with a question in his eyes.
    â€œHey,” I say, trying to play this off like it’s nothing. “I was waiting for you.”
    Griffon nods toward the practice room. “Who’s that?” No way is he going to let this go.
    I gesture vaguely in that direction. I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a very sharp knife. One wrong move and it’s going to be bad. “Nobody. Just someone that Kat used to work with.” I grab his hand and try to lead him to the door, but he won’t budge.
    â€œIf he’s nobody, then what’s that in your hand?”
    I look down and see that I’m still holding the little black box. I don’t dare look behind me to see if Drew is still standing there. “Uh, some earrings. He’s a jewelry designer and he was showing them to me.”
    Griffon folds his arms across his chest and looks right into my eyes. “I thought you agreed to tell me the truth from now on. No more hiding things. I’m going to ask one more time. Who is that?”
    My