Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“It’s… I’ll be fine,” he says.
His gaze is cracking right through the center of my heart.
“I’m going to keep you safe. Okay?” I tell him.
My heart beats out a rhythm, adrenaline coursing through me. I squeeze his waist tight, and I know if anyone is looking over at us right now, they’re certainly wondering what the hell is going on.
But I don’t give a fuck.
Not when Weston is threatened like this.
Not when he’s being forced to relive his worst nightmare.
He nods. “Right.”
I bring up a hand and lightly brush his lips with my thumb, then I let him go, turning back toward my table.
I sit down next to Kieran, and the stranger across the table barely regards me, leaning back like he’s focused on something else. When I follow his vision I see that he’s looking in Niko’s direction.
He’s so close.
Just across this big fucking table.
I could kill him, if I wanted to. Get myself expelled, but at least Wes would be okay.
Blood rushes in my ears as the stranger meets my eyes, and I don’t fucking care that he sees I’m watching him.
“Hey. What did you find out?” Kieran leans over and whispers in my ear, breaking me from my trance.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Fucking nothing, Kieran. Can you quit acting like some detective for one minute of the night?”
He lifts his hands in the air, feigning innocence. “What crawled up your ass? I’m the one who actually gives a fuck about securing an internship, even if it doesn’t matter to you.”
I tighten my jaw. “I care, too. There are just more important things than internships sometimes, do you understand?”
“Not when you’re me,” he protests. “It’s all I have. Do I need to remind you that my parents were still on food stamps just a couple of years ago?”
Kieran slips out his little pill canister again and I bat at it with my palm, grabbing it away from him.
“You can’t seriously be taking more already. Are you insane?”
He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t fight me as I shove them in my pocket instead.
“Whatever,” Kier says.
I breathe deeply, trying to center my thoughts.
Kieran is looking over at the Onyx table intently as multiple alumni execs sit down across from Roman, Wes, and Noah.
One of them is handing Noah a wrapped gift box.
Roman is smiling and shaking hands with all of them.
I can’t deny it all looks very bad. But I have to believe that Wes is doing the right thing. He always does the right thing.
Don’t you, Wes?
19
Weston
“We can definitely make that happen for you,” Trenton Von Harrill is telling Roman now as they make a toast with Scotch.
Roman just opened one of the gifts they brought for him, which was a bottle of single malt that probably cost more than some people’s rent.
All around us the event is in full swing, more opulent than I’ve ever seen it before.
And inside, I’m dying.
Noah’s parents are known for their obscenely stylish events and displays of wealth.
Ever since his mom and dad got divorced, they both donate money like they’re trying to compete with each other, too.
Noah comes from a family with a ton of siblings and disgusting generational money, but the silver lining is that they tend to spend heavy amounts on charitable causes and donations instead of hoarding every dime they lay a hand on.
I should be enjoying myself.
But I feel like I’m…
About.
To fucking.
Blow.
All I want to do is make up for the past wrongs that my father committed.
I’m constantly trying to prove myself and distance my image from the memory of my father forever.
And over and over again, that feels impossible.
I keep glancing over at the asshole across the table from Sev, wearing Dad’s gaudy cufflinks and acting like he belongs here. I have to be here at my table, where Roman is having crucial conversations with these business executives that I couldn’t care less about. Noah poured heavy into my last drink and the world seems to be spinning around me even worse than it was before.
And it’s all just more pressure.
Pressure I thought would dissipate after my father died.
Pressure I thought I could escape.
But I’m still dragged in a million directions, hopeless against the current, in a world I never even got to choose.
Noah’s chatting with a CEO, explaining to her all about his own problems that pale in comparison, talking about how he’s worried about having a stepbrother soon.
No one knows that this dinner could explode at any moment.
“I think we can arrange a yacht party this summer,” Von Harrill is saying now, addressing me and Roman. “Do you think it would be a good arrangement, in addition to the other arrangements?”
“Perfection,” Roman says.
I nod like I’m listening, even though I’m barely there.
Von Harrill is smiling wide and everyone seems far too happy in contrast to the storm inside me.