Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My smile drops, replaced with a look of disgust.
She pauses, taking her time to digest my words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means?” I lift my right brow.
Payton’s mouth drops open. “It wasn’t like that. He was like a father to me—”
“Okay. If you say so,” I say in a tone that obviously implies otherwise. “Doesn’t matter what he was. What matters is he put you in this position. You think I want to deal with you, princess? Spoiler alert—I don’t. I don’t want to see or speak to you. But my father was a dick. He didn’t care what I wanted. If he cared at all about me, or you for that matter, he would have put your sister in charge of your finances, now, wouldn’t he?”
Wide eyes.
They consume her face, staring back at me in silence, beginning to realize just how fucked she is.
Welcome to reality, baby. Check your expectations at the door.
“My father didn’t care about anyone,” I continue. “Never did. The man you thought he was . . . that was all a lie. You probably think I’m wrong, that I’m being too hard on him. I’m not. He was a grade-A asshole. I should know. I’m his son . . . and the apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”
Everything I learned about hatred, I learned straight from the source.
Her teeth bite over her lower lip, and she starts to nibble as if she’s trying to stop herself from saying something that she won’t be able to take back.
Knowing that I have control over her keeps her in check.
I like it.
But as much as I want to celebrate this win, I can’t think about that now. I need to tell her why she’s here first, and when I’m alone, I can savor the moment.
“What do you want from me?”
“Patience, princess. I’m about to tell you.” I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable. I’m already pretty comfortable, but I like to make her wait. “I’ll pay for your college. Well, my father technically will, but I’ll free up the funds—”
“You really do think you’re God, don’t you?”
I watch as her shoulders drop in relief. Her reaction to my next news will make the following part even more fun.
“No. God has nothing to do with it. This is a deal with the devil you’ll be making.”
“Delusions of grandeur are not an attractive personality trait.”
“Can you shut up for a minute and listen? There are stipulations.”
“What kind of stipulations?”
“Stipulations for the money to be freed up for you to go to your fancy university. A university, I might add, that had my father not paid for, you would never be able to afford, but that’s neither here nor there. My point is, I will allow you to attend your school, but you will need to follow a few rules.”
“Rules? Seriously. Do I look five?” Her voice is strong, but the way her hands shake by her side, I peg that as fear.
“You need to prove that you deserve such an education. And before you ask how you’ll do that, I’m just going to tell you.” I wait for a beat to build the suspense. “One, you will move into my loft. I know what you’re going to say, that it’s too far from your college. But before you can ask, I’m going to save you the time . . . not my problem.” My demands are ridiculous, but I need her under my roof to find out just how much she had to do with what happened to my family.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.”
“You can’t make me live with you.” She turns to the lawyer as if he can save her. “Can he?” she asks him.
“Legally . . . no. But—”
“No buts, he can’t force me to live with him,” she fires back.
“I can, and I will. Also, don’t get too excited about your new living arrangement.” I wink. “There’s more.”
“More? How can there be more?” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter because living with you is not going to happen, so I don’t know what more you could want to say.”
“Again, for some reason, you think this is up for debate. There are not going to be any negotiations here. Do you want to finish college? Fine. You wanna graduate? Fine again. Hell, you want some fucking spending money? That’s cool, too. But . . . and there is a huge but. In order for any of this to happen, you will live with me. You can try to fight this”—I shrug—“but just so you know, it will take you years, and it will still leave you in exactly the same position. You’ll have nowhere to live because your money will be tied up in probate. You can go to court, but again, your money will be tied up until it’s gone. Do you understand me?”