Tyrant Twins Read Online Isabella Starling (Tyrant Dynasty #1)

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Tyrant Dynasty Series by Isabella Starling
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
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“So?” I ask impatiently, my words sounding harsher than I mean them to. He flinches, and it hurts. It hurts so bad, yet I can’t make it better. Only he can do that.

He finally looks at me. “I came to give you something.”

“Yes?” I ask, holding my breath, my hands crossed in my lap. He pulls his own hands out of his pockets and I fully expect him to reach over for me. But instead, he pulls out a thick envelope and places it on the table in front of me.

I look down, feeling confused. “What’s that?” I wonder.

“It’s for you.” He motions for me to take it. I do as he suggests and peek inside the brown paper. There’s money in there. Quite a bit of it.

“What is this?” I ask, feeling confused. Kade refuses to meet my eye again.

“I know you’re taking care of Parker,” he says roughly. “That’s… that’s all I have.” He must feel my uncertainty because he clears up what he meant with his next words. “Money for him,” he says. “To take care of my brother.”

I look at Kade, and for the first time that day, I realize he looks like shit. His eyes are tired, and there’s the faint mark of a bruise on one, the remains of a lip split broken still swelling his mouth.

“You don’t think he can take care of himself?” I ask calmly even though all I feel is anger.

“Come on, June.” Kade shrugs, the corners of his lips curling upward. “It’s Parker. Sure, he paints, but… he’s never going to make a living doing that, is he? And someone needs to pay for his shit. I don’t want it to be you.”

That makes me fucking angry even though I have no right to be. It drives me insane he’s giving me money when he knows I have more than enough—at his and Parker’s expense, no less.

It drives me crazier that he sought me out for this. Not for saying sorry. Not to try to win me back. To give me this blood money and pretend we’re done now, he’s done his job. Because that’s what Kade does. He clears his conscience, and then he’s gone. Fuck family. Fuck the fact we made love, and I know he felt something, just like I did. Fuck his words telling me he loved me. Fuck it all. I get up abruptly, the bills scattering on the floor.

“Thanks, but no thanks, Kade,” I say coldly, and I look him right in his broken eyes. And there I see the hope, the unasked question, him begging me to forgive him, to make it all better. But I’ve been making it better all my life, and I’ve had enough.

Goodbye, innocent Junebug.

Hello, June fucking Wildfox.

“See you,” I say viciously, turning around to leave. But I change my mind, turn around and place my hands on the table, looking him dead in the eyes. “Just so you know?” I say innocently. “Parker’s not so much like you after all.”

My eyes sweep his body.

“He’s a better fuck than you ever will be,” I lie. Seal his fate. And I don’t wait around to see him break, because I’m broken enough for the both of us. I leave with my head held high, and my heart in tatters at my feet.

I spend all day at work, and by the time it gets dark outside, I wonder how I even managed to do that. I’m shaking on the ride home, and when I get in the house, I can barely stand. I crumple on the barstool in the kitchen, and I think of Parker. He had fun at work for a few weeks, but the excuses are already starting to roll off his tongue. He’s tired, hungover, inspired to paint all of a sudden—anything to get him out of doing this. And it fucking hurts to know there’s some truth in Kade’s words. Maybe Parker really can’t take care of himself.

For some reason or another, Parker doesn’t come to look for me, and I feel more alone than ever. But then I have a fleeting thought. I could go to the attic right now. I could look at his painting. And somehow, that simple thought makes me feel better. Like seeing what Parker sees me as might negate the fact that I’m a coldhearted bitch. So I do exactly that.

I tiptoe to the attic, knowing exactly where to step from years of spending time in here with my stepbrothers. The stairs don’t creak, and I make my way up, carefully opening the latch door when I get to it. It lets off a tiny sound, and I cringe, waiting for Parker to come storming from his room. But nothing happens. I smile a little and finally climb up until I’m in the room.


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