Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
29
Trent
I stormout of the room.
Acting like a pussy is not my usual schtick, but fuck, I needed to get out of there.
For so many reasons:
1. Why was she wearing that dress? It’s the middle of goddamn November.
2. Why did I think it was a good idea to clean and bandage her knee?
3. We can never have a future while I’m actively trying to ruin her life.
4. The biggest one . . . I’m a dumbass.
I had to leave because if I didn’t, I would have hit on her.
Or worse, propositioned her.
Or even worse, closed the distance and kissed her right then and there.
I’m trying to break this girl down, and instead, she has the upper hand. I’ve tried everything, but all my assumptions about her have been wrong. I thought she would balk at the toilet cleaning, the laundry, the extra studying.
She didn’t.
Even volunteering didn’t garner the reaction I wanted.
She freaking smiles the whole damn time.
Every punishment I dole out is the same thing.
I see her on the surveillance videos; she can’t stop being happy, doing all the asinine things I come up with for her to do without a complaint or issue.
This is fucking annoying and drives me motherfucking insane.
The only time she scowls is when she’s talking to me.
Which is quite telling.
After I clear my head, I make my way back down the hallway and to the garage. She better be in the damned car waiting for me. This whole thing is a massive imposition.
Truth is, even though I didn’t want to admit it to her, it wasn’t her fault.
I watched the scumbag plow right into her.
She’s actually lucky she didn’t get even more hurt.
It was almost deliberate.
And the truth is, as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t really want to hurt her.
Ruin her, sure.
Physically hurt her? Not so much.
I might spend time with the most ruthless men in the world, but I’ve never had a bloodlust.
Thankfully, when I make it into the garage, I see her sitting in the front seat of my car. I already sent my driver off on another errand, so it’s just us.
It’s up to me to get this woman to school on time.
Opening the door, I get into the driver’s side. Her lavender fragrance hits my nose. Fucking son of a bitch.
Does she have to smell good, too?
I tear out of the garage. Driving way too fast. But I’m pissed. I need her out of my car ASAP.
The faster she is out, the faster I can get myself in check.
I pull out into the New York City streets and start driving around to get us to the island. I take the bridge, weave my way through traffic, and the whole time, the car is silent. I have nothing to say to her, and she probably has nothing to say to me.
When we’re finally over the bridge, she proves me wrong. “Thank you for driving me.”
I grip the wheel tighter. “We aren’t there yet. You shouldn’t thank me.”
“That implies we may not ever make it.”
I shrug, speeding up for kicks. “You never know.”
“That’s true.” She grips the oh-shit handle. “I rescind my thank you.”
“Nope, it’s already been thrown into the world. You can’t take it back.”
“That’s not very fair.”
I spare her a glance before changing lanes. “Life isn’t fair, princess.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she mutters, not for me to hear.
But I do.
I hear her every damn time she hints that her life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.
I can’t help the curiosity that rises, but in my typical fashion, I make sure to express it in the most condescending tone possible. I really can’t help myself.
“What do you know about suffering?”
A sound emanates from her mouth, and I can only imagine what she must be thinking.
Her life before my father.
She crosses her arms. “I let you belittle me. I let you say a lot of things to me . . . but do not tell me what I know about life. Unlike you, Trent, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
“Touché, princess.”
“Stop fucking calling me that.”
“Why would I do that?” I stop at a light and fix my entire attention on her, enjoying the pink flush of her skin. “It’s fun to get a rise out of you.”
“Maybe because you’re a decent person.”
“I’m not.”
“But I think you are.” She turns to face me. “You took care of me when I was hurt and bleeding after all.”
I didn’t think this through.
I am so fucked in this argument.
“Don’t delude yourself to think that meant anything.” I stare straight at the light, willing it to turn green and give me an excuse to drown out this conversation with the sound of my engine. “I was protecting my investment.”
“Sure, tell yourself that. We both know you are full of shit.”
The light finally puts me out of my misery.
I keep driving.
Instead of answering her statement, I reach my hand forward and turn on the radio.
I’m done listening to her speak.
Music blares through the speakers. Angry lyrics and long guitar solos.
From the corner of my eye, I glance over at her.
She’s uncomfortable. Fidgeting beside me. Staring out the window.
She wants to say something else.
Probably wants to tell me what a prick I am.
She doesn’t need to. I already know.
No point in stating the obvious.
Luckily for me, traffic is nonexistent. A huge plus, because before long, I’m pulling up to the building she told me her class was at.
“I’ll pick you up after class.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah. You’re right, but I will. You’re in no condition to walk to the train. Then, on top of that, take the subway back to my place. I’ll pick you up.”
She opens and closes her mouth, reminding me of a fish. Then eventually, she must think better of it because she nods.
There are no goodbyes.
Instead, I turn to look out my window, and she slips out of the car.
Once she’s gone, I’m left alone in front of her building with nothing to do to kill the next two hours.
I throw the car in park and just decide to work from here.
I have plenty of calls to make. Plus, I do have my laptop in the car.
I use my car as a hotspot, and then I start to look at the figures for the day.
After about an hour of work, I close out my computer and dial Jaxson Price.
“Now what?” he answers.
If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I would think he’s actually pissed, but since I do, I know he’s just messing with me.
“Can’t I call to chat?”
“Nope.” He chuckles, and I laugh back.
“Not cool.”
“Speaking the truth, bro. No one ever calls me to just shoot the shit.”
“You know I love ya, man. You’re practically my brother.” My voice is serious now.
Over the years, Jaxson has had issues with feeling this way with his family. I hope he’s not actually upset. It doesn’t sound like it, but I say it anyway.
“Nope, you’re confusing me with Cyrus.”
Of course, he minimizes the sentiment.
“I could never confuse you two.”
“He’s much grumpier.” He laughs.
“You think?” I chuckle. “But you’re right. I am calling you for something. But I promise after this one favor, I’ll stop being a complete selfish prick and ask you about your life.”
“Doubt it. Prick is the only character trait you have.”
“Not true.”
“Oh, you aren’t calling me in some ridiculously concocted plan to further ruin an innocent girl?”
I’m silent, and he laughs again.
I can picture him shaking his head.
“Just as I thought,” he says. “You need to get over this, bro. She’s getting the money. Your father, prick that he was, left it to her for some crazy reason and was a complete dickbag to you and your family, but that doesn’t mean she had anything to do with it.”
“Mmm.”
“You know that, right?”
“Maybe. But—”
“No buts. Let the woman live her life. Leave her alone.”
I’m silent for a moment. “Well, that might be hard now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I don’t answer him.
“Trent,” he says my name in a way that tells me I have no choice.
If I don’t answer, Price will probably hack into my surveillance system and see what’s going on at my house, and the last thing I need is for him to see how much I’ve jerked off to the thought of her. Not that he’d know it’s her I think of, but the timing isn’t a coincidence.
Payton in a short skirt, kneeling? Hand, meet dick.
Payton reaching up to dust my highest shelves, her shirt rising? Hand, meet dick.
Payton eating a banana in slow motion because she’s distracted by Carl fucking Jung? Hand, meet dick.
There’s a pattern here.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.
Jax’s company set up my surveillance camera, so it wouldn’t be very hard for him to invade my privacy. Actually, come to think of it, it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know Payton is living with me. That means I can trust my security team not to tell him. He found me the men I employ. If I ever wondered about where their loyalties lie, this proves it. My loft is as secure as Fort Knox, unlike my office building. Take Paul’s unannounced visit. He took the service elevator, a well-paid bribe to a building employee granting him access. That breach has been taken care of.
Nevertheless, I have to say something because this is Jaxson Price. If he wants to find out, he will. It’s better if it comes from me.
“I moved her in with me,” I admit.
“What the fuck, Trent?” His voice is loud enough that, if someone were near my car, they would hear him.
Also, damn, my ear hurts.
I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “It’s just easier this way.”
“In what universe is keeping her locked in your house easier?”
“This is different.”
He groans over the line. “How?”
“She’s not locked up.”
“Oh, do tell then . . . What cartoon-level genius plan do you have? Please, I’m dying to know.” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“Well, for one, Christina took a vacation—”
“Jesus, Trent, please do not tell me you moved her into your house to clean for you. Please don’t say you are hoarding her money because you want a maid.”
“Fine. I won’t.”
Doesn’t make it any less true.
“Are you fucking her?”
“Nope.”
But I want to.
“So, you aren’t trying to live some hot maid fantasy, right?”
“Um, no.”
But now that you mention it . . .
“Even worse,” he says, and he sounds appalled, which is rich coming from the guy with absolutely no sense of privacy. “If this is some creepy fantasy of banging your maid, at least I would understand. As long as she is willing.”
“Of course, she would be willing. And I would fucking ask first. But that’s not the point. I don’t want to bang her.”
Ha.
“Yeah. Okay,” Jax says as if he has a direct line to the bullshit in my mind. “Then why else is she there?”
“I want to get to know her.”
“Go on. Because I’m not buying any of this shit. Real reason, please.”
“I want to make her life hell for what she’s done. Plus, if I keep her close, I can see if she has any skeletons in her closet that I can—”
“No.”
“I haven’t even asked you for anything.”
“Trent,” he says, and it’s in that bitch, please tone. “I have known you my whole fucking life. I know what you will ask me. And the answer is no. No fucking way.”
“Dude. You fucking do shady shit all the time,” I say.
“Yes, Trent, I do. To awful men. Not to innocent girls who just happened to piss you off because you have daddy issues.”
“I don’t have daddy issues.” I scoff.
“Yeah. You keep telling yourself that. You’re acting like a little whiny-ass bitch. Get your head out of your ass and drop this shit. Give the poor girl her pocket money, and leave her alone.”
“Twenty-two million is not pocket money.”
“You’re right. It’s pocket change,” he corrects.
“Does that mean you won’t help me?”
“Of course, it means I won’t help you!” he exclaims in irritation.
Over my stupidity, probably.
“But I can still come over when I’m bored, right?” I chuckle, trying to change the tone of the convo.
“That, you never have to ask. You’re family.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
The line goes silent, and I can hear him breathing.
Then he sighs. “Let her go.”
“I promise I’m not keeping her.”
“Are you at least feeding her?”
“I’m not a complete animal. Actually, if you must know, I’m playing chauffeur for her today because she hurt her leg. She got knocked down by some asshole on the sidewalk and tore up her leg pretty good. Oh, and I also cleaned and bandaged her,” I add as if my little show of kindness negates all the bullshit I’ve done.
“What you are telling me is you . . . played doctor?” he says it like it’s another kink of mine he’s discovered, and honestly, I’m not as against the idea as I should be.
I’m so fucked.
“What?” I say, going with the denial route. “No. No. No fucking way.”
“Sounds like you have a thing for this girl, after all. Why don’t you bring her over? We can have dinner.”
“Fuck no.”
“Fiiiiiiiiine.”
I hang up the phone.
Jaxson is a pain in my ass. But he’s not wrong.
That doesn’t mean I’ll listen, though.