“They are. Thank you.”
“Our driver will make sure you get home safe. It’s really coming down out there,” my mom adds. Just then, as if on cue, it thunders again.
“I appreciate that,” Freya replies.
“Bye, Mom.” Desperate to be away from this conversation, I stand from the bench and brush past Freya toward the stairs. I don’t get far before my mother calls back for me.
“Julian, why don’t you share a ride home with Freya so you can help with all her things?”
I freeze mid-step, and my shoulders fall away from my ears as my teeth grind. “Can’t Lucien help her?”
“Julian Miles Kade.”
With a disgruntled sigh, I turn around and stare at her. Daisy Kade might be a sweet woman at heart, but she can be a fierce mother when she needs to be, enough to have me listening to her like a child at twenty-six.
“You realize I’m a grown man, right?”
“Then act like it.”
“Fine,” I mumble under my breath. “Let me get my shirt.”
With a scoff, I march off toward my old room, feeling Freya’s eyes on my back as I go. Who the hell does this girl think she is?
And what is with that sense of style?
Not to mention the way she accepted my mother’s praise.
Annoyed, I yank a shirt off a hanger in my old closet. It’s another black button-down, but it’s not nearly as fitted since it’s years old, from before I put muscle on my shoulders and arms. The fabric strains against my biceps, and I internally blame the cook once again.
When I emerge from my room, I find the girls in the kitchen, packing up Freya’s things. With a cold, emotionless expression on my face, I grab her large thermal bag and cart it out through the front door toward where Lucien is waiting by the car under the covered courtyard.
I’m supposed to be grateful to my parents for forcing me and my sister to do chores and help out around the house even though we have an abundant staff to do nearly everything for us. My father says it builds character, which is funny because all I could really grasp from any of it was resentment.
“I can handle that, sir,” Lucien says as he takes the bag and loads it into the trunk.
“Oh, I’ll hold it on my lap,” Freya calls from behind me, andI roll my eyes at the sound of her voice. “I don’t want it tipping over in the trunk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a pleasant smile.
Freya climbs into the back seat, and I feel my sister approaching from behind. “Be nice,” she mumbles in my ear as she grabs my arm. “Help her to her apartment, please. Show her how sweet you are, Julian.”
“I’m not sweet,” I grumble.
She shoves me on the shoulder, and I glance back at her with a mischievous smirk. Ignoring me, she leans down to say goodbye to her friend. Then Lucien shuts the door, and I’m enclosed in uncomfortable silence with Freya in the back seat.
The first five minutes of the ride are quiet, and I would have preferred it stay that way, but she speaks up to ruin that.
“Thank you for your help, but you really don’t need to walk me up to my apartment. I can handle it.”
“I’m well aware,” I say flatly, staring out the window and away from her.
I’ve barely laid eyes on the girl, but with her obstinate personality, I really don’t need to. Sure, she’s beautiful—stunning even. But that’s where the attraction stops. An attitude like hers is literally the opposite of what I’m looking for. If she ever wanted a quick, no-strings arrangement at the club, I’d be interested, but I think it’s far too late for that.
“Did I do something to you?” she asks.
I turn toward her, feeling every muscle in my face tighten. “I don’t even know you.”
Her lips part, and her brows lift. “Exactly, and yet you have been nothing but rude to me since you came crashing into me.”
