Fenella shakes her head. “Stop trying to self-destruct,” she hisses. “This gives you an option other than FluxFuel. And it means you don’t have to keep up with this plan towoo…” Fenella jerks her head toward Sophie, still on the couch leaning over the cats.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? You’ve been here for two days straight. You stuck around after Basher left. What do you call it?”
“Maybe I’m… getting to know her,” I say in a low voice.
“Why? Brother, she’s so not your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
“You kind of do. Shallow. Materialistic. Remember Mera?”
“I thought you liked her?”
“I did, because I was just like her. Now I’m not. Sophie is nothing like her. Neither was Abigail, which is why it never would have worked out with the two of you.”
The mention of Abigail, and how she sent me home, still stings. But I mask the expression. Even my sister doesn’t need to know how I felt—still feel—about not being wanted.
“Don’t hurt her, Ashton,” Fenella pleads.
“I’m not planning on hurting her.”
“You will. It’s what we do.” She pauses and taps my chest. “Just don’t”
“Why? Everyone in town will be mad at me? I’m used to that.”
“I’ll be mad. She’s my friend.” And with a rueful smile, my sister walks down the hall.
For a moment, I want to follow Fenella. Take her keys and get out of the castle. Get out of Laandia.
What am I even doing hanging around with Sophie Laz?
Fenella’s right—she’s not my type.
She’s not shallow. She’s not materialistic. She’s not concerned with what she can get from me.
There’s a good chance I will end up hurting her.
But still—leaving the door open I retrace my steps back to her and take my seat on the couch.
“That was nice of Fenella to stop by,” Sophie says with a bright smile.
“And the king,” I remind her. The little black cat stretches and reaches out with a paw.
“And the king. Did I hear that right? Did he offer you a job?”
“I think—maybe?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
I stroke the cat’s head, and he begins to purr, like an engine. “I might be in need of something,” I admit.
“Before Fenella, I didn’t know that billionaires worked.”
“How else do they get their billions?”
“Yes, but you… your father is a billionaire. Carrington Toys…”
