I wonder how many high-end pieces of art he’s broken from throwing them across the house. It doesn’t take much to think back on the times he’s let his anger drive his impulsive actions. Glass from broken frames sprinkled throughout the foyer, vases crumbled with water and flowers in every other direction. The maid bent down low, cleaning up the mess he made, while Beatrice stood like a dictator to make sure she didn't miss a shard of glass.
I toss the valet my keys.
He fumbles with the catch, his youthful eyes saucers as he stares at my Lamborghini.
“Treat her right,” I warn jokingly.
He perks up. “Oh, I will, Mr. Pierce.”
I stop in my tracks, my black Oxfords pressing onto the red carpet. “Mr. Pierce is my father.” My tone is heavy with irritation.
The valet shifts nervously. “Understood.”
I put my back to him and shake off my sudden hostility. I scan the crowd and look for my new team. After yesterday’sfamilydinner—that I was legally forced into from that ridiculous contract I skimmed and signed—the plan was set for the event. The Halston siblings would wait for me alongside the red carpet so we could showcase our unity together.
The idea of it makes me twitch.
There is no unity when it comes to the Halston siblings and me.
Particularly with Tessa and me.
We’ve been thrown together like oil and water. It’s chaos in the sim, and her voice from hours of perfecting my car follows me well into the night as I toss and turn in a bed that isn’t mine, in a house that’s too modern and cold.
“Rome!”
Jericho, a driver from the UK, stands in front of me, wearing something much more elaborate than I am, with his hand outstretched.
Is that cheetah print?
He pulls me in for a bro hug, slapping me on the back with force.
“It’s good to see you. How’s the leg?”
It aches every time someone mentions it.
“Good as new,” I say, placing my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
Cameras flash around us, and he shields his mouth. “Dude, I almost fell over when I read the headlines.”
I give him a tight smile.
It’s not like I didn’t expect everyone to be buzzing over the news, but it irks me all the same.
“What happened? Fight with Daddy?”
I shake my head, preparing the lie I had constructed on the way over. “I just needed to make a name for myself instead of piggybacking on my father’s legacy.”
Jericho nods respectfully. “I knew I liked you.”
I chuckle. “Unless I outrace you?”
He smirks. “Not this year.”
Maybe not.
“I thought you left for other reasons,” Jericho adds.
I lift a brow, my suspicions raised. My father is slick, his illegal modifications flying beneath the radar. But someone is bound to catch on eventually. And if they don’t, I’ll find a way to prove it without incriminating myself by breaking the NDA.
