did you need?” I try, wanting to take the talk away from the girl he most likely had a hand in murdering. They all somehow dip their fingers into the bloody pot. It wouldn't be a surprise.
"News is going to hit about the Miltons’ daughter taking her life."
Of fucking course.
"As I said, such a tragedy."
The scoff crawls up my throat, begging for release, but that tiny sound always results in a broken finger, a black eye, or, something far worse, retaliation served to my brothers.
"I'll handle it," I offer, wanting to sound secure but sweating bullets thinking of the result.
"No need. I'll be at your school in hours. Tomorrow is the Winter Assembly. Have you forgotten already?"
"Of course not," I nearly stutter. It's hard not to stumble over them. Forgetting the Winter Assembly is equivalent to missing the biggest day of your life. The founding families have plans, too, scary ones. It’s the same every year.
"Good." He clears his throat. "I hope you've notified the Tower where myself, Ashton, and the others will be staying."
Ashton.
Her name makes my skin crawl. My dad has never been faithful, not to anything but his wallet and dick, but of course, for a ceremony that matters, he would bring his mistress.
The cunt.
Memories of her cross my mind. Goosebumps break across my body, a silent chill, making sure to hit me where it matters most. I shake the feeling every moment with her brings, hoping all the contempt I cart will somehow evaporate.
"Are you inept?" Dad's tone brooks no argument. I must've not caught what he said.
"I'm sorry?" I wonder aloud.
"You know how much I dislike repeating myself, Lennox."
"I'm sorry, Dad. There's been a lot of stuff happening."
"I was making sure you had everything ready for tomorrow. Nothing can go wrong. No matter how you feel about the girl."
I close my eyes, swallowing the bile, praying for strength, and hating my father more and more.
"Understood. Everything has been prepped for weeks."
"Excellent. We'll be seeing you. Edgington will be there as well. Do not disrespect me.”
He doesn’t even have to add the or else. I know what he's capable of, what he'll do. My body is a monumental moniker for the scars he's given me.
He hangs up on me, and when I place my phone in my pocket, I feel like I can breathe for the first time.
"What did he want?" Jordan bristles, his face untrusting. I didn’t notice him come to my room, but he leans against the door frame like a nuisance.
Do I blame him for being untrusting? No. Do I want to divulge about the conversation? Not preferably. Do I hate him? Abso-fucking-lutely.
“Just stating the obvious. The founding families will be here tonight. He wants the tower set up for them."
"That all?" he prods, crossing his arms.
"That's it." I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
"What about that kiss with Jay?"
I can't resist the laugh that bubbles from me. The fucking audacity. Is he my keeper now? "Jealous, Walker?"
His eyes narrow, and he's closing the distance between us. He's gotta stop doing that.
"And if I am?"
Our bodies are close, too close. His intoxicating scent infiltrates my senses, my panting a response of nature. Has to be. I'm not affected.
"Seems like your expectations are too high."
He grabs my collar, the same move he seems to be subjecting me to every time we're close. Luckily, I'm wearing a cheap Henley and jeans, not a private collection Bespoke suit.
"I'm not gay, Walker."
Jordan snorts, his face amused, and I hate the smugness of it. "Not gay," he mocks snidely. "Just likes dicks in his ass, mouth, and hands."
Hard muscle meets my palms as I brace to push him, but he's faster than me, grabbing them and slamming them above my head.
"Tell me not to kiss you, passerotto," he rasps. Little sparrow. Why a bird at all?
My momentary lapse of being stalled on a pet name, he takes it as acceptance and claims my mouth.
He bites into my bottom lip, and I groan at the sting of his fierceness. He's addicting, salacious, everything I could hope for in a partner.
But he's not my partner.
I hate labels.
I hate his power over me.
I hate him.
Aggression meets my wrists as I try to fight his pressure. In turn, he groans and grinds into me. Returning the favor, I bite his lip, hissing with victory when the salty flavor of his blood hits me. Take that, dick. When he pulls back, a churlish smile sneaks onto his face, his eyes alight with