“Nice try, shit for brains, but I’m not buying it,” she snaps, trailing him into a large, airy open-plan kitchen-slash-dining room. “You don’t go to college. Your job, your pervy friends, and your pitiful gang are all in Fenton, more than an hour away. Why the fuck would you move in here?”
I can’t even enjoy the sleek modern kitchen because I’m too busy seething and worrying. I can’t stay here now. I can’t live with that douche because I’ll end up on a murder charge before the week is out. I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth. He’s Doug’s new stepson. I’m betting he offered to keep a brotherly eye on Ash, and Ash’s dad fell for it because he seems to think the suns shines out of his ass. I thought Doug was smarter than that, but he seems to have been completely taken in by Hera and her son.
“Because I got a new job in a garage three miles away and The Bulls need me to take care of some shit on campus.”
He levels me with a malicious grin, and I’m immediately suspicious.
“I love fucking with your head,” he adds, flashing her a savage grin before he opens the refrigerator, peering inside at the fully stocked shelves. “And I haven’t even begun to ruin you,” he replies, like it’s totally normal to spout that shit at anyone. He grabs a beer and a container of leftover Chinese takeout. “Your father agrees you need a chaperone.” He closes the refrigerator with one hip, popping the top off his beer. “And maybe my mom worries about you shacking up with talentless jocks with fluff between their ears.” He shrugs, not losing the obnoxious grin. “Take your pick.”
He puts his beer and the takeout carton down on the counter. Whipping his shirt over his head, he mops the back of his neck before tossing the clothing on top of the island unit. Beads of sweat glisten on his inked chest and abs, confirming he’s already found a new gym to work out at.
“This isn’t happening,” Ash repeats, glowering at him.
Walking around the counter with a purposeful swagger, he flicks her nose, and I lunge for him. Ash steps in between us before I can reach the dickhead. He smirks at me, and I’m ten seconds away from smashing the dude’s skull in, consequences be damned.
“It’s already happened. It’s a done deal. There’s nothing you can do or say to change it.” Bending his head down, he puts his face all up in hers, and I see red again. Ash reaches behind to grab my hand in warning. “Roomie.” Ares rubs his hands in glee as his gaze bounces between me and my girlfriend. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
Snatching his cold takeout and beer, he walks away. Ares’s dark chuckle follows him out of the room as Ash and I stare at one another, all hint of good humor long gone from both our expressions.
ChapterThree
Jase
Istop my Range Rover in front of my house rather than parking it in the garage because this will be a short visit. Chad and Ash are already en route to the townhome, and there is no time to waste. Hopping out, I stride past the ornate stone water feature in the direction of the front door, my feet crunching on gravel as my long strides eat up the short distance.
Glorious August sunshine beats down on the two-story fifty-thousand-square-foot beige and brown modern-day castle as I approach. My late grandfather built it in the nineteen thirties, replicating the European home some of our ancestors had lived in, back in the Middle Ages. The turrets, towers, stained glass panels, and curved windows are an exact copy of the first property, if the large, framed painting of the original castle hanging on the wall as you go up the main staircase is a true representation.
“Favorite brother,” Jocelyn says, smiling expansively as she stands in the open doorway. “I thought you were moving today?” She leans in to hug me.
“I am.” I bundle my youngest sister in my arms, inhaling the smell of peaches from her hair, which always reminds me of carefree summers spent in France at our maternal grandparent’s vast country estate. “I need to talk to Father first.”
“Ah, that’s why he’s been peering out his office window with a constipated look on his face. Mom and I were taking bets on whether it was you or Bree who ruffled his feathers this time.”
It’s not difficult to predict it was myself or my twenty-year-old sister as we’re what Mom affectionately calls her “problem children.” Balthazar was born the perfect son and heir; instantly enamored by the world we live in and champing at the bit to immerse himself fully in every aspect of the Luminary lifestyle. He’s my father’s mini-me in every regard.
Breanna hates everyone and everything, and she’s like an out-of-control tsunami every time she sets foot in a room. My hatred of the rules and traditions, which govern us and every Luminary family, fades into the background when compared with my older sister’s outright loathing of our secret elite society. If it wasn’t against our laws to kill a member of a Luminary family, I’m sure my father would have had her dealt with by now. Instead, he happily let her head off to Peru to find herself eighteen months ago, rather than enrolling in Lowell U like the rest of us.
Out of sight, out of mind is definitely the motto in Dad’s case. At least for the moment. Bree knows her so-called freedom has an expiration date. Dad may be letting her rebel now, but she will be forced to toe the line at some point in the next couple years.
I’m less easy to push aside, and he’d never let me get away with the same shit. As a second son, there is a lot riding on me. Father has several expectations for me. Expectations I will most likely fail to live up to, but that doesn’t mean I can escape them.
I chuckle as I ruffle Jocelyn’s dark hair. “Bree’s over a thousand miles away, so I hope you put your money on me.”
“You’re usually the safe bet, but you clearly haven’t heard the news.”
That stops me in my tracks. “What news?”
“Bree is coming home. She’s going to be a freshman like you.”
I blink at her like she just announced my sister was a born-again virgin dedicated to a vow of chastity and a lifelong commitment to God. I couldn’t be any more surprised if that was the reveal. “Yeah, right. Sure.” Sarcasm drips from my tone as I nudge her aside and step foot in my family home.
“I’m not lying.” Jocelyn loops her arm in mine. “She’s in the air right now.”
“Why?” I question. “The last time I spoke to Bree she was shacking up with some hot South African photographer and his girlfriend, and she had zero intention of coming home any time soon.”
Jocelyn shrugs as we walk through the hallway toward the rear of the house. “Shit went down with the photographer. He didn’t like how much Bree and his girl were into one another. Felt threatened by strong pussy.” She rolls her eyes. “Such masculine bullshit.”
That doesn’t explain why my headstrong sister is returning home. But I’m guessing I’ll have to wait until she lands on US soil to discover the real reason.
