The last two weeks had been sheer torture on my soul. Watching her sit at her desk in class, avoiding my gaze, laughing with her friends as if nothing had happened between us. Yet, through it all I caught her quick glances when I turned away from the chalkboard or happened to look up, sensed her hesitation each time she left my class. If I was a betting man, I’d say that she’d probably crumble before me but knowing how I felt right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was me who caved first.
You’re well and truly fucked.
My phone rang, drawing me out of my musings. “Yeah,” I answered without looking at the screen.
“Hey, cousin. I’ve just landed in San Francisco, want to grab a drink?”
“Back so soon,” I mocked. “Let me guess, found a pussy you can’t get enough of.”
Laughing, Rhett cursed. “I wish. Actually, I took on that case we discussed.”
“The one involving the mafia shit.” Turning away from the window, I walked into the kitchen to rinse my glass.
“Yes. So, up for that drink or do you have company,” he goaded.
On his last trip I’d hinted at meeting someone, giving him only basics about Levana. Not letting on that she was a student, Dean’s daughter, or the girl from the ritual. If I’d done so, I’d probably have the entire brotherhood wanking down my throat to get my shit together. Lord knew, I had to, if just for my sanity.
“Are you staying with me or have you booked into a hotel.” I headed for my bedroom.
“Why spend money when you’ve got a fuck pad of the century.”
Shaking my head, I grinned. “Okay, see you in a few. I’ll let reception know to expect you then I’m hopping into the shower.” I ended the call and pinched the bridge of my nose. While it was nice having Rhett around, the way I felt right now, I didn’t think I’d make for good company.
Thirty minutes later, I sat opposite Rhett at a pub overlooking the harbour while he filled me in on why he was in San Francisco again.
“And you’re up for it,” I ask when Rhett sat back in his seat, sipping his whiskey, surprised that he’d taken the role as company attorney for a bunch of arseholes.
“It’s the only way I can get into their books and find a way to help my client.” He shrugged.
Shaking my head, I stared at my drink for a moment. “You need to be careful, Rhett. You’re going on a fishing expedition and likely to catch a shark that will guzzle you down in one bite. I don’t think they do things above board.”
“I know but I have the brotherhood to cover me if anything goes awry, don’t I?” Beneath that tough exterior, I sensed his hesitation.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “You’re not just a member of the brotherhood, you’re a born Sinclair. While we’re a secret society, it’s our duty to protect you and it’s also my duty to caution you.”
“I know and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I’m protected.” He clinked his glass against mine. “To the brotherhood.”
“To the brotherhood.” I grinned.
“So, what’s up with you?” Rhett asked and I frowned. “You’re...I don’t know.” Pushing his blonde locks out of his eyes, he gave me one of his lopsided grins. “You’re distracted. Like you have something on your mind and don’t know what the fuck to do with it.” His keen observation surprised me. Then again, he was an attorney, studious reflections were fundamental in his field.
“I’m good, just concerned about Snow.”
But he saw right through me. “Bollocks, Seb. I know you, remember,” he scoffed. “This is something more. Pussy trouble perhaps. Told you, old man, you need to abstain for a bit.”
“This coming from a man who can’t keep it in his pants for more than ten minutes. What the fuck do you know about abstinence.” I goaded. “And the last time I checked, thirty-five is not old.”
“Yeah, tell that to the tired man looking back at me,” he retorted then did a three-sixty and straightened in his seat. “Seriously, Seb, you look beat, like something’s eating you alive. What’s up.”
I pondered telling him then thought better of it. “Perhaps when I’ve had a couple more of these,” I held up my whiskey glass, “I’d be a little more garrulous.”
“Then I better see to it that you’re staggering out of here.” He chuckled waving down a waiter.
I was making my way back from the bathroom, fifteen minutes later, when my ears pricked up at the mention of Levana’s name. Pausing, I glanced over the waist-high barrier separating the dining area from the passage leading to the bathrooms. Two boys sat at a table, facing the street and unaware of my presence. I recognized them as seniors from Winthrop Royal. Mark was in Levana’s class and Justin Sandler, a Winthrop footballer, was in another.
“Who?” Justin asked.
“Levana Singh,” Mark repeated. “She’s in my class. Tall, curvier than the other girls. But she’s filled out in all the right fucking places. I’m telling you, man. Tits, ass, lips, she’s got them all for both fucking and sucking.” He smacked his lips and I saw red, my blood running riot in my veins with the need to smash his face to pulp. I gripped the top of the barrier letting the edge bite into my palms. “I’d give anything to get a piece of that,” Mark finished.
