Tom got out first. He found a good college, got a scholarship, and bailed. He asked me to come with him. Said he’d take care of me the last year before I turned eighteen. But I didn’t want to slow him down.
That last year with Moruzzi was a blur. He became the meanest when we were alone. But finally, and through hard work at school, I managed to get out, too.
I remember that day. When I turned eighteen.
I didn’t even bother to return home after work.
Tom picked me up. My pocket was full of money I was supposed to give Mr. Moruzzi.
“Ready to start your new life?” Tom asked. He looked good. Like he was having fun. I wanted to have fun, too. Though, I knew my upbringing had corrupted me, made me a dysfunctional person. Tom, Law, and I, we were going to make up for everything we’d lost.
I nodded. We left Chicago behind in a cloud of dust.
Craig’s allergic reaction excuse sent guests into a frenzy. Nobody noticed him limping into a tinted Lexus through the back door, escorted by a group of frat boys with receding hairlines and dad bods. One of them took the driver’s seat and floored it out of the estate. I slipped into one of the bathrooms to regulate my breathing and scream into the shower curtain.
Brat got hurt.
Brat got very hurt.
Brat was more than just a brat. She was a broken-winged swan. One who thought of herself as an ugly duckling.
When I got out, Hallie was standing with her family in the corner of the drawing room, assuming the role of the designated, worried sister with distinction.
“But I didn’t even know he was allergic to wool,” Hera sulked, while Julianne patted her shoulder and Anthony rubbed at Brat’s arm. “I mean, he wears wool all the time. He prefers cashmere, of course—who doesn’t? But…”
Unfortunately, her shit-for-brains fiancé hadn’t come up with a brilliant excuse. He should have gone with something more believable. Like reptiles or pollinated fruit.
“I read somewhere that allergies can develop as you grow older,” Hallie suggested helpfully, standing a bit to the side from the rest of her family.
“You read?” Hera cocked an eyebrow. “Now there’s a shocker.”
“Hera!” Julianne chided. “What’s wrong with you? Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can pick on your sister like that.”
“She’s explaining allergies to a doctor.” Hera bared her teeth. “Now get rid of the guests. I guess I wasn’t destined to have a wedding rehearsal, after all.” She pushed past her mother, trekking upstairs to her room, grabbing a bottle of wine from a champagne bucket on her way there.
The wedding was tomorrow, which meant that Craig somehow had to snap back into shape in that time. I’d kept that fact in mind while smashing his skull into broken glass. His face stayed pristine. Ugly as sin, but unmarred.
Julianne squeezed Hallie’s arm. “Sorry about that. Hera is under a lot of stress. Give us one moment, Bunny.”
She charged after her elder daughter, trying to soothe her. Anthony stayed behind, putting a hand over Hallie’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you stay on the ranch tonight?” He ping-ponged his gaze between us. “I know it’s hectic and teeming with staff. But the wedding’s tomorrow. We can go to the venue together from here. Save all of us the trouble. And we really did miss you.”
“I don’t have my gown with me.” Hallie’s hand fluttered over her midsection. She wanted to stay at the scene of the crime like I wanted to shove my dick into a meat grinder. But leaving hastily might spike her parents’ suspicion. Not that I cared if that bastard, Craig, went down in flames. However, I knew Hallie didn’t want people to find out about the assault, and I had to respect that.
“I’ll send someone to fetch it.” Anthony mustered a smile. “Whaddaya say, Sugar Pie? Make your old man happy?”
I stepped between them, noticing that Hallie felt more secure next to my body than with her own father. “We accept. Thank you for your hospitality, President Thorne.”
“I’ll have Annika show you to your rooms.”
“Room,” I corrected him coolly. Both he and Hallie eyed me curiously.
“Security here is through the roof.” Anthony frowned.
“And I would really rather spend the night alone,” Hallie added bitingly.
With forced patience, I said, “I don’t doubt your security measures, sir. All the same, I’m the one in charge of Miss Thorne’s protection. It goes without saying I’ll be sleeping on the floor, if at all, while on duty.”
I wasn’t going to share a bed with the woman, especially after finding out just how royally I’d fucked things up by messing with her. Up until today, I had still assumed that Hallie Thorne was a reckless, overtly sexual woman who took her pleasures where she could find them. I didn’t for one moment suspect what we’d done seven nights ago was anything more than an expression of curiosity.
Anthony stroked his chin, nodding. “Your jurisdiction, your rules. Annika will show you to your room in a bit. You all right there, Sugar Pie?” He turned to his daughter. “You look a li’l pale.”
Hallie smiled sunnily. “When am I not, Pops?”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Hallie turned around, slamming her fist into my arm.
“How could you?” she whispered.
You’re about to have a massive meltdown tonight after being attacked, and “I want to keep an eye on you.”
“I can handle myself.” She clenched her teeth.
I didn’t doubt that, but I didn’t want her to wander this vast, strange house all by herself, either. Couldn’t chance Craig returning to seek his revenge. And some screwed-up part of me really didn’t want that vicious snake, Hera, to get any alone time with her.
“As I said before, I’ll take the floor.”
“A place fitting for a dog.”
“Exactly.”
Annika materialized out of nowhere, appearing in the hallway in her pressed uniform. She gave us a bow. “Miss Thorne, your parents are beyond happy you’re here. Will you be attending dinner?”
“You couldn’t pay me,” Hallie grunted.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” Hallie cleared her throat. “I’m not hungry, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Annika showed us to a fairly large room on the second floor. The house was mostly empty by now. All the guests had trickled out in the last hour or so, after realizing the unappeasable Hera Thorne was locked in her room, roaring at her mother.
The room was spacious and impeccably decorated. A king-sized bed with pressed Victorian linen, a few landscape paintings with heavy golden frames, two dressers laden with fresh flower vases, and a walk-in closet. The floor was carpeted—thank fuck—and there was already a stack of pillows and blankets on an antique, regency couch in the corner of the room. Since the couch stretched to about the length of my thigh, it didn’t hold much promise.
“It’s not too late to ask for your own room,” Hallie reminded me, tucking her hands under her ass while sitting on the bed, legs dangling mid-air.
“And miss all this fun?” I looked around, finding a good spot on the floor by the windows.