And it worked.
But tonight, despite how comfortable I’ve become in my new skin, tonight is a night for the old me. Not Samuel “The Machine” Gunner, but Samuel Louis Gunner, heir to the Gunner fortune and black sheep of the family.
An hour later, I’m sliding on the five-thousand-dollar suit jacket, newly ordered and hand delivered to my door, and buttoning it up over matching suit pants. I slick back my hair away from my face, revealing my strong jaw and dark eyes before slipping on my Rolex and sovereign ring. I barely recognize myself. I’m a mix of Samuel and Maxwell, and I loathe it. Staring back at me is the man who was supposed to grow into someone like my father—the man who hated me—the man I hated back with every fiber of my being. I swallow as I stare at myself, the bob of my Adam’s apple moving up and down my throat.
Maxwell Gunner was supposed to love his children and be there for them, but he’d been a ghost for most of our lives, only showing up once or twice a month and then destroying everything about us he could. He’d come home, fuck the nannies, then tear me apart for not being good enough.
I wasn’t smart enough.
I wasn’t dressed right.
I wasn’t behaving how I was expected.
Maxwell left us to the nannies who didn’t give a shit about me or Sab, who only wanted to bag themselves a rich husband, then he broke us down so we’d be as miserable as him—and now I looked just like him.
I sigh. At least the suit feels damn good on.
“Check you out,” Sabella whistles from the doorway of the pool house, where I decided to move into to avoid my father even more. “My brother looks hot.” She laughs.
“I’m a regular pussy magnet,” I grin, and she grimaces, making me laugh.
“You’re disgusting.” She fake gags. “Seriously, though, you look good.”
I straighten my cuffs as I turn to look at her and smile. She’s wearing sweat pants and a knotty bun thing on top of her head, but even studying in her casual clothes, my sister is stunning.
“Unlike you,” I tease. “Looking more and more like the help every day, Sab.” I cock an eyebrow, and her jaw drops.
“Rude, little brother. That’s just rude.”
I bark out a laugh, and fuck, it feels good. I can’t remember the last time I laughed with meaning. I’m glad she’s not bringing up the other shit I told her. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it anymore. In fact, I wish I could go back and not tell her. The relief of unburdening myself was short and bitter.
“I like this look on you,” she says as she walks farther into the room. She comes and stands in front of me before leaning over and tightening the knot on my tie. She smiles approvingly and smooths her hands down the front of my jacket. “It’s nice. It reminds me of how things used to be.”
I cock an eyebrow at her, feeling my features darken. I know where this is going to lead. That’s the thing with Sab—she’s like a dog with a fucking bone that just won’t let go. She is good, pure-hearted, beautiful, and intelligent, and she wants me to be just the same as her. But I’m not like her. There’s a darkness inside me that doesn’t live in her, and hopefully never will.
“Leave it,” I warn.
“What? I’m just saying, it’s nice seeing you like this again. More like the old you.”
My smile falls away completely. “Who says I want the old me back?”
“Sammy, don’t be like that.”
I sigh. “Things change, Sab.”
“And things can change back!” she says, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying, he’s not all bad.”
“Did you not hear a word I fucking said earlier?” I bark out bitterly.
“If he would have known—” she starts, but I cut her off with a sneer.
“He wouldn’t have done shit. He wouldn’t have believed me. He was too busy getting his dick sucked by the help and traveling the world to give a shit about us. And when he wasn’t doing those things, he was bowing down to our grandmother, who also despises us, or have you forgotten about that?”
Her eyes look away from me, because yeah, there’s no denying the disdain our grandmother felt for us. She never approved of our mother because she came from a humble beginning, and she never approved of our father keeping us. I’d heard her once arguing with him about putting us up for adoption so he could start fresh.
I prayed to any God that would listen that night that he’d do just that. Anything was better than living that life—a life of being unloved and unwanted by everyone who was supposed to care about you.
Our grandmother’s feelings toward us were the same as each slut of a nanny who came to work in our house. She blamed us for our father not being around. Funny thing was, I blamed us too. I turn away from Sabella, scooping up my keys and the invite off the coffee table. “You know she’s not even buried in the family tomb, right?” I say indignantly, the resentment I feel toward him bubbling in my gut and turning the food I ate earlier sour.
