Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“He has two brothers who are mine.”
Creighton meant that they’d joined his army. I hated them, his soldiers. They were more like Creighton’s followers. Once they vowed to follow him, their sense of loyalty became like a cult. No one understood how it happened. They thought there was brainwashing or blackmail. There wasn’t. In the beginning it was just money.
As soon as someone made an oath to Creighton, they began earning fast. That was one thing about Creighton. He didn’t care about money like most might’ve. It wasn’t the reason he did what he did. I knew he had money. He had a lot of it, but he only took a small percentage of it. The rest was shared with his army. The longer someone was loyal to Creighton, the higher their percentage grew, and that type of money ensured loyalty. A lot of loyalty.
I was dazed that Heath knew me. “But Heath’s not? Not one of yours.”
“No. The file I have on him said he’s mostly estranged from his brothers. He barely talks to his mother. He left for college and has not been back since. He spends his holidays with the male roommate that came with him tonight.”
A belated thought crossed my mind. What an odd way to refer to Marshall. “Uh. Yeah. That makes sense. They seem close.”
Creighton’s phone began ringing, but he ignored it. His attention, like all the time, was centered only on me. It used to make me feel like the most important girl in the world. I don’t know if that was where my crush originated from, but I’m sure it helped fan that flame.
My throat swelled again.
Creighton saw me.
He always saw me.
I felt myself melting. It was innate. It just happened when I was in his presence because that was just how it was with Creighton. He had a part of my heart, and I’d long ago accepted that I’d have to be okay not ever getting that chunk back. It was his. His alone. Whether he knew that, though, was a different story. For how ruthless he was, I—no. I couldn’t finish that thought.
It wasn’t right.
“You seem to be enjoying your new place.”
My gut flared. “You got me in there, didn’t you? It’s the only explanation for how an undergrad got placed in one of the best graduate residences.”
He didn’t reply at first, then when he did, he spoke slowly, as if cautiously, “You ran from me, Blake. I never want to experience that again. And how I found you—I never want to experience that either. You want me to be a certain type of man, but I am not. I am not a good man. I’ve always known that about myself. I am who I am. I’d rather you hate me and be alive than be a nice guy and you be dead.” He didn’t blink.
His phone began ringing again. He ignored it again.
I cursed and crossed to where it was on his desk. I answered swiftly, mocking, “Felonious Creighton Lane’s phone. One moment please. I’ll transfer you to his current location in his demonic lair line. There might be some screaming in the background, but pay no attention. Beeeeeeeeeeee—aahhhhhhhh—noooooooo—don’tkillme—eeeeep. Here you go.” I shoved it at his chest as I reached for the door.
He stopped me just as I opened it. “Blake.”
I was still boiling, but I waited.
“You remember our agreement.”
I was confused. “Wha—” I remembered.
Our agreement was that he would stay away until I went to him. After that, it was considered null and void. I’d agreed in that moment because I hadn’t considered he would trick me like this, but Creighton didn’t adhere to “that’s not fair” or “you tricked me.”
The facts were that I came to him.
Lead filled me.
The agreement was done.
“That means I can come to you.”
Chapter Eleven
Blake
The guy doing my interview gave me an incredulous look when he met me at the front door of Octavia, right before introducing himself as Spence. It was another nightclub in the area. I needed money and fast, and working in a bar or club was what experience I had. I knew Creighton would pay for anything and everything if I let him, but I had my pride. I would stand on my two feet.
Tips would be good. Plus, I was good at food and beverage work.
We were toward the end of the interview when the guy pushed back his chair, turning away from his computer, and he stared hard at me.
He didn’t speak for a moment.
I frowned, shifting a little in my chair. “What?”
He was young, maybe a few years older than me, but there was an older aura of maturity that surrounded him. If my life were different, he would’ve been someone I’d be interested in. He was cute too. A lean athletic body. Maybe he wasn’t dressed in what someone might have worn as a club manager, in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers. I glanced down at his feet again and amended that they were nice sneakers. The kind that people waited in line for outside the store when they first released. He had a similar face to Creighton’s too. A younger looking face. Pretty. But he had brown shaggy hair, and it looked as if he ran his hand through it on the regular, a frustrated motion that was habitual. He wasn’t quite clean shaven. Some facial hair remained, like he’d forgotten to shave and he was currently running his hand over it before he expelled a sigh, his hand falling back to his lap. “Are you shitting me?”