Page 10 of Vicious Titan

7

Elliot

Longest. Weekend. Ever. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I’d look forward to school. But here I am, cheerfully strolling down the corridor on my way to the courtyard for lunch, beyond thankful to not be walking the halls of my house. Not only did my father hang around the entire weekend—a rarity for sure—but Asher was understandably preoccupied with Quinn since her father’s funeral had been over the weekend. I’d planned to attend the service. I’d dressed and gotten into my car, but never made it out of the garage. Instead, I’d sat in the driver’s seat for countless hours, unable to bring myself to witness Quinn saying goodbye to her dad. Afterwards, I felt guilty for not going. Thankfully, I manage to suck up my emotions long enough to talk to her briefly in the hallway before class this morning and offer my condolences.

I also manage to give Victoria a smirk, pissing her off and causing her to dart away. Success all the way around in my opinion since I finally have enough control to be around her without falling to my knees and begging for forgiveness, again, as I’d debated doing all weekend. She wants away from me, and I need away from her as much as I need her nearby. This should be entertaining to say the least.

Shifting my focus, I spot Asher sulking in our usual spot overlooking the lake. When I take a seat next to him, my gaze immediately goes to the redhead across the courtyard. She’s seated at her customary table, her back to me while Quinn sits across from her. It’s only a few seconds later when Victoria looks over her shoulder to her brother with a smirk on her face before her eyes meet mine. The smirk fades quickly before she turns away, shutting me out. Quinn has an equally pissy stare pointed in Asher’s direction, causing me to chuckle.

“If looks could kill, we’d both be goners.”

Asher seems less than amused as he shifts to the side, folding his arms across his chest. “Already there.”

Same, man.But I can’t say that out loud, not when his sister is the one leading me around by the dick, and every other part of my body, inside and out, is apparently following right along. Frickin’ A.

My phone vibrates with a message as I look to it.

Grandpa: Meet me at the office after school.

Me: Yes sir.

Even though he’s asking me to meet at his office, it must not be regarding work. If so, one of his many employees would’ve been asked to contact me to set up an appointment.

Tucking the phone back into my pocket, I fold my arms across my chest. One mistake after another, but that’s not going to stop me. “My dad is still at the house. Mind if I crash at your place for a few days?”

Asher gives me a curious look before turning his attention back to Quinn. “Like you have to ask.”

“Thanks, bro.” Hopefully I won’t do something too stupid while there, but I really do need to get away from my father and closer to the hellcat who holds my attention for the remainder of the lunch period.

* * *

Pulling to a stop, I step out of the car as I glance at my name on the reserved sign. It still bothers me that I have a designated parking space even though it barely gets any use. Walking towards the building, I step inside as the automatic doors glide open, revealing a receptionist who greets me with an uneasy smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bass,” she says softly before resuming her task.

Walking past her, I return the greeting while cringing at the name. I’ve given up asking her to just call me Bass or even Elliot, pretty much anything but Mr. Bass since it’s how everyone addresses my grandpa. I’m nowhere near where I need to be to fill his exceedingly large and overwhelming shoes. The weight of that role and my grandfather’s expectation is enough without being reminded of my title at every turn.

Stepping onto the elevator, a few employees smile or wave, and I keep a phony smile plastered on my face until I step off the elevator. It’s replaced with a genuine one when I spot my grandpa’s assistant.

“What’s the word, Dorothea?”

“Delusional.”

“We all have our delusional moments, right?” Chuckling, I stop at her desk and she passes me a peppermint candy. Unwrapping it from the plastic, I pop it into my mouth. It’s been our routine for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I loved visiting Grandpa’s office just to get my piece of candy and hear the word of the day. More times than not, she was on point.

“Some more so than others.” She waves to the door behind her. “Your grandpa is ready for you and your father is already in there with him.”

Great. Not surprising that he’s here since that’s what I’d assumed the impromptu meeting was regarding, and now the word of the day makes sense. One of the other things Dorothea and I have in common is neither of us can stand the sight of Richard Bass. Early on, she’d tried to mask her disdain for my father, but it became more than obvious she has no use for him. All her years of seeing behind the scenes of the Bass family shitshow, it’s not a surprising opinion to hold. But the fact that she’s stuck around is very commendable, and I’m grateful because she has become a better part of the Bass family than most born into it.

“Wish me luck,” I say, knocking on the door before pushing it open.

Dorothea mumbles something before wishing me luck.

My grandpa stands from his desk, walks over, and pulls me into a hug, slapping me firmly on my shoulder before pulling back to look at me. His eyes zero in on my four-day-old busted lip as anger rages on his face. Stiffly, he rotates, looking to my father who has remained in his seat. Grandpa points to my lip, then at my dad. “Is this your doing? I know it’s not from the fight at school because I’ve seen him since then.” My father shifts, his silence answering my grandpa’s question. “If I can manage to keep my cool and not knock some fucking sense into you, then you should be more than able to keep your hands off my grandson. Understood?”

I can’t help but enjoy the erratic nod my father gives Grandpa. I take a seat beside my father who responds to my curt smile with a furious scowl. Grandpa walks behind his desk, resuming his seat as I ask, “How do you know about the fight at school?” He hadn’t mentioned it, so I’m surprised to learn that he knew about it. Usually, he’d give me a fatherly lecture and tell me to straighten up.

“I know about more than you think, but that’s not why we’re here. It seems Richard has some news he needs to share before word gets out.”