Savage Heir by Jagger Cole
36
I’m halfwaythrough unpacking my stuff when I glance up and catch my reflection in the mirror in my dressing room.
I scowl.
I scowl because when I look up, I’m fucking smiling, like a douchebag. I roll my eyes at myself and whirl to storm across the bedroom. I sink into the leather Eames chair by the window and reach for my case of preroll. I slip one between my lips, and the lighter flicks as the end cherries.
The me inside of me—the dark, grumpy, moody little fuck that’s gone through the vast majority of his life giving the world the finger—wants to say something absurd like “this was never part of the plan.”
But fuck that. There was never “a plan” with Tenley. She was just the pebble that started the landslide. The match that lit the fuse.
The little red who kicked the wolf in the teeth.
When I exhale a thin stream of smoke into the ceiling, I realize I’m grinning again.
God. Fucking. Damnit.
I groan as I drop my head back, smoking quietly. But I’m still at it. My face is still weirdly tight. My heart is still thumping.
I’m still missing her.
There’s another first. I’ve been with girls before, but I’ve never slept with one. I’ve left plenty of them, too, but I’ve never once missed anyone.
I’ve been away from her for all of three hours, and I hate that she’s not here.
I inhale as I sit up and stare out the window. Instantly, I grin when I see a familiar red ponytail bobbing as she walks quickly up to the front gate of the manor. I stand, glancing down just in time to see her let herself in.
I snuff out the spliff. She’s right, I smoke too much. I glance in the mirror to fix my hair, ignoring what a dipshit I feel like. There’s a brief knock before the door opens. I turn to smirk at her.
“Couldn’t make it a whole…”
She doesn’t have to say a word. Her face speaks volumes. It screams that I’m about to lose someone else I let inside. It’s about to mock me for being a fool.
But really, it just speaks two words.
The end.
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
“Ilya, please..”
“Fuck. You,” I hiss, shaking my head as my eyes burn into hers.
She’s crying, and it’s killing me. But so is the reality of what’s happening.
“Please, just listen—”
“Get out,” I grunt coldly. My jaw is set as the walls build back around me. “Just get the fuck out.”
“Will you just fucking let me explain—”
“Get out!” I roar with a fury that drains the color from her face and rattles the goddamn walls.
She backs away, shaking her head and crying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be,” I say coldly. “Everything Patrick told you was right. I was just trying to fuck you to get close to you for political dirt on your dad.”
She glares at me. “Don’t do that.”
“I asked you to leave.”
She shakes her head, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand.
“Ilya—”
“I promise you, you’re not going to want me to say it again.”
A sob wrenches from her throat as she turns and stumbles out of my bedroom. The door shuts behind her.
I seethe.
I see chaos and rage and murder behind my eyes. I storm to the bar cart in the corner of the room and pour a huge glass of scotch. But in a second, I whirl and hurl it at the door as I roar in blind fury.
Out the window, I can see her running and crying back across the grounds.
My hand closes around the bottle as the anger simmers into darkness. My lip curls cruelly as I bring the bottle to my lips.
Who the fuck ever heard of the wolf ending up with the rabbit anyway?
