I toss the towel at him. “I’m not afraid of her old man.”
“Maybe you should be.” He stands, walking to the dresser and opening the bottom drawer, grabbing my emergency whiskey, pours two shots into red solo’s. “We’re not invincible, Bam. Don’t forget it.”
I down the shot, feel it light a fire down my throat. “Why you really here, Colton?”
He sets his glass down, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Dad wants to know if you’re coming for family dinner this Sunday.”
I shake my head and he narrows his eyes, before I sigh and nod. “Fine.”
Colton nods, like he’s satisfied. “Just remember what I said.”
He leaves. The silence is heavier after he’s gone.
Better get cleaning. Fuck. FUCK.
I need to see Dad, I haven’t been around for months, but I don’t know what to say. He was pretty pissed I didn’t accept the truck he bought me. Didn’t understand why I wanna buy my own shit. Why I won’t take my place in the Ellis family, as a son, just like he’d always said I was.
I just… I still feel like that kid watching his mom light up, spending money we needed for food on drugs while I was wearing dirty clothes and shoes that didn’t fit.
The money, the status…
It all feels fake. It doesn’t feel real. Almost as if at any moment it’ll all be pulled from under me and I’ll be right back there, waiting for my dad to sell more of my shit for his next fix. Watching them from outside, as I bang on the door begging to come inside before going and sleeping on a park bench.
Nine years. For nine years, I’ve been a part of the Ellis family and yet I still feel like a broken little kid.
Blocking out the thoughts swirling in my head, I pick up the mess. Sand gets everywhere, clings to the sweat on my arms. I leave the broken bag where it is, a trophy for tomorrow.
The windows face east. I stand there, naked to the waist, heartbeat slowing, and watch the sky. Below, the campus sprawls: dorms, gym, pool, the main drive snaking out to the gate.
In a few hours, her car will pull up. She’ll see the Academy for the first time. Maybe she’ll be scared, maybe she won’t.
Either way, she’s mine.
My Hunt starts now.
Chapter 1: Dahlia
Thegatesareopenfor me at eight a.m. sharp.
Westpoint’s entrance gives an illusion of safety, iron bars studded with spikes. They yawn at the end of a gravel drive, flanked by statues that have watched a thousand initiations. Most students arrive by fancy sportscars, the poor come via the back, in whatever cabs or busses they could afford with their lunch money.
I arrive in a town car painted matte black, windows dark enough to eat daylight. Bulletproof, through and through, it’s a fortress in here.
Only the best for the Don’s Princess.
When the car slows, both bodyguards straighten in their seats. Ciro gives me one long look, and he’s the one who steps out first, scanning the air with eyes of a seasoned mafia vet. He doesn’t offer a hand when I emerge, because he knows I’d push it aside. Instead, he stands four paces behind as I peel myself out of the car. I adjust my coat—Valentino, pre-release, belted tight to telegraph what my father paid for. I am not to slouch, not to waver, not to breathe deeper than the occasion demands.
Leone gets out after me. I try ignore the way he stares at me. We had a fling, a few times, eons ago and he never let it go. Of course, I never told my father, because who the fuck wants to be responsible for the death of an innocent man?
Not me. So we kept it hush hush. He’s not one to take no for an absolute and tried again last night, begging me not to come here and I shut the door in his face.
I have duties to attend and if this is what my father wants for me, it’s what I will do. He’s controlled every aspect of my life for as long as I can remember, which means boyfriends were never an option for me. From birth, I was shaped,molded,into the weapon my father needed me to be. I never shrink from my duties or my responsibilities, which always means that my own wants and needs are secondary to those of the Kings.
Leone was fun while it lasted, but he was also more of a lover-boy than a ‘grab her by the hair and make her choke on his cock’ kinda guy. Which is fine, except in this life of control, power struggles and forced decisions, I think it would be nice to have a bit less control and a bit more…
Oomph.
Zest.
