Theo
Ican’t fucking take it.Illya and I had such a good, good moment, andfucking Carlylehad to ruin it. The gun holstered against my hip burned through my jeans, and I wanted to fucking vomit as rage boiled my insides. Glaring at him even as two cars pulled through into the quad that served as a parking lot, I stuffed my fists into my jeans.
Not that it helped at all.
“I wonder what they’re like. Carlyle and Mateo are so different.” Illya’s mumble barely breathed the blood drumming in my ears, and I grunted lowly. My eyelid twitched with how fucking hard I glared at him, and I knew he could feel it. That dick! “Theo, it’s not a big deal.”
“I’m gonna fucking beat him until he shits himself.” At the least, Carlyle had the decency to look ashamed of himself in Illya’s apartment. He didn’t apologize, of course, but that didn’t matter. He fuckingknewIllya wasn’t dressed, and he still chose to interrupt and see that shit. Rubbing my arm, she didn’t say anything more when the cars parked in front of us, and I hoovered up a massive breath in an attempt to calm myself.
I sincerely hoped that Carlyle would walk in on me blowing Illya’s back out so he could see the way a real man treats a woman with a little physical baggage.
The door behind us cracked open, and I twisted to lay eyes on Mateo for the first time inmonths.He wore a nice suit, but he looked older, more haggard, and wouldn’t meet my gaze as he slunk past. Obviously, he had a hard time wrestling with the reality of the situation, but at least he didn’t come outside in a stained shirt and reeking of alcohol.
Oh, the stories the maids told when they thought no one was listening. Normally, they came around twice a week to tidy up, but they had to make daily trips to Mateo’s apartment because he was such a fucking slob. I wasn’t sure how anyone could make a mess like that in just twenty-four hours, but apparently, he did.
But Mateo crawling out of his hole also meant that his father and older brother coming here wasn’t something to take lightly. Running his hand through his hair, he stood next to Carlyle but a good distance away, and I rolled my shoulders to get rid of the tension zinging through me.
A car door popped open, and I cleared my throat roughly of the expectation that clogged it. Truth be told, I expected a slender, tall guy with a few good wrinkles and a cigar hanging from his mouth.
Carlyle and Mateo’s father was tall, true— he was slender, sure— but the huge, bright smile that showed off his strong features belayed the menacing attitude I was positive he owned. His bald head shimmered in the sun, and his super expensive suit and shoes were wrinkle-free and polished to perfection. He even wore a funny tie with purple polka-dots on it, and I scanned him slowly through narrowed eyes.
“My boy!” Ignoring Mateo completely, the older man pulled Carlyle into a hug as his deep baritone crawled up the brick walls around us. Clapping Carlyle on the back, he held him by the shoulders at arm’s length to grin with pride. “I see you’re doing well.”
“Spain’s been good to you, Dad.” The old man nodded, and my brows furrowed when he turned his full attention to Mateo. Just like with Carlyle, they hugged, but there was nothing but concern etched into that sun-baked face when they parted.
“How are you, Mateo? You’ve had it hard, kid.” Mateo struggled not to cry in the face of his father’s worry, which, I guess, was more telling than any words. Cupping Mateo’s jaw, his dad stroked his cheeks, and I shared a curious glance with Illya. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? You’ll get through this. It’ll be hard, but I know you can overcome anything.”
“Yeah.” Only offering that hoarse reply, Mateo nodded curtly, and I almost felt like I was watching something I shouldn’t. Tearing my eyes off them, I focused instead on the person who stepped out of the SUV after him and rocked back on my heels.That must be Oran.
The dude was a textbook nerd upon first glance, with sleek glasses, no jacket, but he wore suspenders. However, tattoos sleeved up his arms and disappeared under his rolled shirt, the plain, white button-down thick enough to hide the ink. Oran shook hands with Carlyle but refused to look at Mateo, and dark brown eyes flickered around the courtyard.
“I see nothing about this place has changed. It still looks like a run-down college housing building.” Disdain dribbled thickly from Oran’s mouth, and Carlyle shot his little brother a snooty look. For a moment, they glared at each other, but Oran eventually cracked a smirk that barely tilted his lips before the tension snapped. “It’s good to see you, Carlyle.”
“How’s life across the pond?” Oran shrugged his thin shoulders at the probe, and Carlyle huffed a bare laugh.
“Boring. I’m moving back. I can’t stand that fucking country anymore.” Keen eyes drifted my way, and Oran lifted his nose as he scanned me, his gaze pausing at the gun on my hip. “I see you’ve got a new guy. What happened to the last one?”
“He didn’t do his job, so I replaced him,” Oran grunted lowly at that, and his eyes turned to Illya before he decided she wasn’t worth his time. “Let’s head inside so we can discuss this issue we’ve got.”
“Right.” The father, whose name I didn’t know, popped up between his two elder sons, and my brows furrowed as confusion clung to my ribs. “Let’s head inside so we caneat. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten together. I wish your mother was here to see you all get along.”
“Tolerating each other is more what we’re doing, Dad.” Carlyle gestured to me, and my gaze ping-ponged between the three of them before I realized neither of them brought bodyguards, either. “This is Theo.”
“Wonderful!” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when the old man strode the short distance to me, and I automatically pulled my right hand out of my pocket. He grabbed me with force I wasn’t expecting, and I clenched my jaw against the pain that rippled noticeably up my arm. His grin widened, this time accompanied with a malicious glint in his eye, and my pupils narrowed into fine points. “I’m George.”
“You’re a sociopath is what you are.” This whole fucking family was fucked up, which put them all in a perfect position to lord over us commoners. George dropped his act for the briefest second, a dry laugh bursting from his throat before he shook his head.
“You’ve got jokes. I like that.” He squeezed my handhard, and my lips thinned as he pulled back to release my palm. My arm cramped visibly, but I beat down the pain as shrewd eyes blackened with age scanned me from top to bottom. “I think you’re a good fit for my son. Anyway, enough with the trivialities. Let’s head in and eat. I’m starving.”
I went and grabbed the door, and George hung back as his sons filed past me. When it was his turn, he shot me the most scathing, dead-eye glare possible, and my lip curled in a snarl in return.
So, the old man’s got secrets.Of course, he did. The act was convincing, and I wondered if his kids knew he couldn’t feel anything for them.
“Stay away from him, Illya.” Leaning down to mumble in her ear as she passed, I grabbed her forearm to squeeze insistently, and Illya nodded with a knowing look. Muted concern shimmered behind her fake, brown lenses, and I frowned darkly. “He’s way more fucked up than the others.”
“Yeah.” Releasing her soft skin, I held my own arm and flexed my fingers and thumb as my skin spasmed up toward my elbow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Nodding hesitantly, Illya started off down the hallway, and I inhaled deeply to hold my breath. Exhaling slowly, I straightened my shoulders and stretched my stiff fingers a few more times on my way behind her. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t good.
It wasn’t good at all.
