Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,221

am not a fool, I watched the whole thing – and might I just add that your use of the shower unit during your tryst was lacking, I expected more use of the shower head for one. But I’m getting off point. If you dare to feed me a lie the next time one of your mouths open, I will take personal offence. And I am very certain that you do not want to offend me right now."

I glanced at Monroe, panic starting to find me in the wake of this shock. What was Saint going to do? He could have Monroe fired, sent to prison. Would he do that? Was he so possessive of me that he would use this secret against us?

"So," Saint said, seeming to be in his element as he held all the cards in the room. "I'd like you both to go and dress appropriately for this conversation. I took the liberty of laying out outfits for each of you in Nash's bedroom." He pointed to the door across the room. "Proceed."

Holy shit.

Monroe wrapped his hand around mine in an act of solidarity and we walked across the lounge together and slipped into his room. Saint had left me a fitted black dress with red roses printed on it and Monroe had a pair of smart cream chinos and a white dress shirt waiting. Did he bring these freaking clothes with him?

I was soon in the dress, my heart beating wildly as I looked to Monroe who was lost in thought, a line of tension on his brow. When I put on the strappy black heels Saint had provided, Monroe pulled me against him, gripping my cheeks in his palms. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out."

My lips opened and I nodded quickly, clutching his hands over my face. "I'm yours," I swore. "Nothing will change that."

"I will fight for you with everything I have," he growled and I just bathed in the closeness of him for a long moment, the two of us feeding on each other’s strength.

We strode from the room together, hand in hand and ready to face down the devil.

Saint had moved to sit in an armchair which he’d dragged in front of the couch on the other side of the coffee table like we were about to enter some sort of fucked up couple’s therapy session.

"Sit." He gestured to the couch before taking another long sip of his vodka, a sense of smugness about him, though his expression was entirely neutral.

Me and Monroe sat together, our hands still clasped. There was no point denying what we were now, and I found I didn't want to either. I lifted my chin, owning my decision, owning Nash Monroe.

Saint fixed his eyes on Monroe and the intensity of them could have cut glass. "I know who you are," he said, letting a smile curl up his lips. "I know everything."

My mind spun and fear slid through me at what he knew about us. About how long this had been going on.

Monroe's grip on my hand tightened, but he said nothing. Saint could be bluffing. We had to let him state what he knew, couldn't give anything away ourselves in case he was fishing for answers.

"Enlighten me," Monroe said, his voice rough and full of hate.

Saint placed his vodka down on the table, taking his sweet time to respond as he raised his leg and balanced his ankle on his knee, leaning back in his seat like the king of the fucking world. "Your real name is Jase Harrington. You are Maria Harrington’s son. Brother of Michael Harrington."

Dread filled my gut as I realised Saint hadn't been bluffing and Monroe's spine straightened as Saint went on.

"Your mother was involved a traffic collision with my father on Lake Street in Elm Grove. Her son, your brother, Michael, was killed in the crash, thrown from the car due to his lack of seatbelt."

"That was becau-" Monroe started, but Saint spoke louder, talking over him, saying it all with a cold detachment that made me deeply fear what he was going to do.

"Your mother was subsequently sent to prison where she later died in a brawl, meaning you were sent into foster care and lost your chance of paying for the partial scholarship you won to attend Lakeview High School. Though that is the official version of events, I happen to know my father is a scheming bastard with far too much money and power, so I did