Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Almost home, I tell him. Good luck. I’m sure we’ll talk before the holiday.
“You ready for this?” Zeke asks, and I nod enthusiastically. I might have dreaded going home if it wasn’t for him. No, he’s not going to outwardly break any of my father’s rules, but I’m sure I’ll be able to bend them a little. Plus, Christmas. Who doesn’t love Christmas?
My phone buzzes. I didn’t expect Dean to have the last word. By the way, I meant to tell you something. I found a bunch of stuff when researching our project that I thought you might be interested in.
I send him a question mark in response. “What’s up?” Zeke asks. He’s always watching, isn’t he?
“Nothing. Just talking with Blair.” I don’t like lying, even about something as dumb as this, but what’s the alternative? I don’t want him getting pissed and driving us off the road only a few miles from home.
I sent it to your school email. I didn’t want to include it in the project because I didn’t want to freak you out. Well, that doesn’t sound good. What could he have found that would freak me out?
Was it about my father? No, that’s not possible. Besides, we don’t even have the same last name. Even if my suspicions are correct and Dad is into some shady stuff, Dean couldn’t have made the connection. Let me guess, it’s something about Scarface, right? I’ll have to check it later.
“Here we are,” Zeke murmurs. “Let’s get serious.”
“Yeah. We have to get into character.” I shake out my arms and hands, rolling my head from side to side. “I hate you. You’re the worst. I want to curb stomp you.”
“Wow. That rolled off your tongue way too easy. Should I be concerned?”
“I hate how good you are at eating me out,” I continue.
“Whoa, careful.”
“And your dick is way too big.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that, but…”
“I hate when you make me come until I pass out.”
“Enough, princess.” He grins at the way I growl in response. “You deserve it. Fucking tease.”
I guess I can accept that.
Rolling through the front gate of the compound is a strange sensation. It’s still not the warm, fuzzy feeling place home should be, but it’s getting there. I hope one day it will be. Zeke still looks happy even with the aviators, but I won’t bother warning him about it because it only makes sense he would be glad to be back. In some ways, this is more his home than it is mine.
Dad meets us outside, arms outstretched. It’s almost like we’re a normal, happy family—except for the bodyguards to either side of him. “There she is! My beautiful girl.” I have to admit, it’s nice. Heartwarming. I didn’t expect such an enthusiastic welcome. For a moment, I can almost pretend we’re a regular father and daughter. Not that I would know what that feels like in real life, but I know how I’ve always imagined it being.
He then shakes Zeke’s hand. “I want to see you in my office right away. I have a few things I need to discuss.” Of course, because business is never too far from his mind.
He turns back to me, an arm around my shoulders while he leads me into the house. The tree in the entry hall is mind-blowing, covered in red and gold ornaments, and bright enough, it might be visible from space. “I’m having a dinner party tonight.”
I knew he would bring me back into his social world, but I didn’t know it would be this immediate. I know better than to complain about hoping we’d have a nice family dinner tonight, something quiet where we could catch up. He’s not interested in that. “Dress code?”
“Something nice. You have plenty of dresses that will do fine. But keep it modest, of course.”
Like that doesn’t go without saying. “Of course.” He leaves me at the foot of the lavishly decorated stairs before crooking a finger to beckon Zeke. Zeke glances at me before following.
So much for the happy reunion. I guess I should consider myself lucky I was personally greeted in the first place. Some of Dad’s staff are unloading my bags and carrying them up to my room. I follow and tell myself it’s better this way. I’ll have a little bit of privacy before getting grilled over how the semester went and what my plans are for the spring.
Strange how this bedroom still doesn’t feel like mine, but the one at the condo is starting to already. I wonder why. Is it because the condo feels like ours: mine and Zeke’s? I didn’t choose any of the furnishings, none of it, but it feels more like home than the lavish room Dad splurged on here at the house.
I need to stop sulking and fast. Especially if we’re having people over tonight. It goes without saying I’ll need to be on my best behavior, the perfect credit to my benevolent father. Or something like that.