He’d blown into Brookhaven Ridge Country Club like the laws of this world didn’t apply to him. Hair mussed, shirt untucked just enough to be noticed. That mouth—always on the edge of a grin or a sin. I wanted a taste, hungered for it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, not technically. He didn’t do anything right either. But I knew it for what it was.
A test.
And I was failing.
Every goddamn day, I felt it. His presence was like static just beneath my skin. I couldn’t look directly at him too long without losing track of what I was saying. I couldn’tnotlook athim without feeling like I was missing something. He consumed every thought in my head.
He was always there. Leaning against counters, tossing bar towels over his shoulder with that stupid, effortless flair. His jokes were too sharp, his laugh too loud, and all of it aimed just close enough to me to feel like a warning shot. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he remembered.
And I—I was choking on silence.
The knock on my office door wasn’t expected, nor was it a surprise. My father didn’t believe in scheduling meetings with me—he believed in interruptions.
“Come in,” I said flatly.
He stepped inside like he owned the air in the room. In a way, he did. This was stillhisclub, even if my name was stamped on everything. It was only a matter of time until I signed in blood on the dotted line, and the mantle was passed to me.
“The Ballantyne deal,” he said, without preamble. “Gregory’s son is visiting tomorrow. I expect you to handle him.Personally.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“He’s… particular. Young, entitled. But influential. If he walks out unimpressed, the family pulls their investment from the west wing expansion.”
“I can manage him.”
He gave me a look like I’d said something deeply naïve. “Can you?”
I swallowed. “I can.”
“You were distracted during the board presentation on Tuesday. You missed three minor errors in the financials.”
“I corrected them.”
“Too late. The impression was made.” His voice sharpened, eyes narrowing like he was assessing a crack in fine porcelain. “You don’t get second chances in this world, Theo. You showweakness once, and people will spend years looking for more. I promise you they will find them along with every skeleton in your closet and use them to their benefit.”
“Understood.” I exhaled through my nose, the walls closing in around me.
He moved closer, voice dropping. “And watch the staff. I saw the way one of the servers looked at you the other day.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. A cold shiver crawled down my spine. “Excuse me?”
He smiled tightly. “This place has eyes, Theo. If you’re going to command respect, you don’t fraternize. You don’t indulge.” He straightened my collar without asking, then patted my shoulder like I was twelve and still eager to please him. “Be better than this place. Or it will eat you alive.”
Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him like a judgment. I felt hollow. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him, and trying to measure up to his expectations was akin to scaling Everest single-handedly.
I walked the club floor, my mind lost in a daze, my father’s words reverberating in my head and a storm of crushing emotion behind my ribs. The club was immaculate as always—white tablecloths, polished silverware, fresh cut flowers on each table. It was a graveyard of expensive taste, paying homage to the past rather than moving with the times. The air always smelled faintly of money and desperation. The kind of place where people smiled with all their teeth and none of their soul.
This was my inheritance. My future. My cage.
Another hoop I had to jump through for my father to prove myself. To prove I was worthy of the Astor name and carrying on our legacy. But as days faded into years under his thumb, I realized how little I wanted all this.
As was so often the case for people like me, I was a product of my upbringing. Trapped. My life preordained. Free will didn’texist. What would I do with my life if I weren’t here? What did I enjoy? What were my passions?
I didn’t know because I’d never been allowed to figure out who I really was.
The only thing I knew was that I could want someone with every fiber of my being, but never be allowed to touch them. That was my burden to bear in silence.
I heard Sin before I saw him—his voice, that irreverent lilt, rising over the drone of brunch prep in the kitchen.
