Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 25
the wolf
his infinite wisdom, has taken it upon himself to set up a dinner date with Mallory for me in Styx. He claims he did it in an attempt to rekindle whatever flame might have been between us, but I know that’s bullshit. This is his way of letting me know he’s well aware of how often I’m spending my time in Styx, and he doesn’t approve.
I had to rush from Arthur Lewis, our family lawyer’s studio apartment back in Manhattan, where he takes his conquests for the night under the guise of working too late to drive to the suburbs like some Madman from the sixties. He had nothing to offer me about Sienna’s case. It’s the same regurgitated story as the judge all over again.
A mystery wad of cash was left in his office with a threatening note and pictures of his family. The only extra information he had was that my father refused to let him back out of the case and bring one of his partners on, opting to drop the whole thing instead.
It was a huge waste of fucking time. Once I showed him photos of the seven women who filed police reports against him for sexual assault that somehow disappeared from the police system in the past year, throwing out their entire case against him, I broke his neck and left his dead body there to rot for God knows how long.
Then, I had to gun it into Styx for this dinner to keep up the illusion that my father still holds my puppet strings.
Sure, Mallory and I have hooked up a couple of times, but I have absolutely no interest in pursuing anything with her, especially now that I have my little lamb.
“I'm moving to Chicago after I take the BAR.” The words fall slowly from Mallory's supple red lips, as if she’s nervously anticipating a negative reaction from me.
“Okay…”
“I think we should take a break from this thing between us.” She waves her hand in the air, her long red nails glistening in the low lights above us.
“A break?” I question incredulously. A break from what, exactly? We're hardly together.
“Come on, Sebastian. Don't make this harder than it is.” I hate the way she uses my full name. It's just another item to add to the growing list of things that irritate me about her. “I know in the end, it's going to be you and me. That's what it's always been. But for now, I need to experience life without the weight of a long-distance relationship.”
I stare at her, allowing the words to roll around in my head as I piece together why the hell she thinks this means anything to me. What bullshit lie did my dad spew to get her here?
“Why not take a job in the city?” My lips are asking all on their own, because none of this makes sense.
She's right. Mallory has been practically promised to me since birth. Our nuptials would be too beneficial for both of our families to pass up. After all, that's all that matters in our world—money. And making sure that money is preserved and we stay firmly planted in the top one percent. It has nothing to do with my feelings for her or the fact that we're in love—whatever the fuck that is. But Mallory was always supposed to come back to New York and settle down with me when she was ready to leave Styx.
So, even though I have no desire to be with this woman in any capacity, I want to know what changed.
“I mean, of course I'll start my own firm there. But it's like your dad said, it'll be such an enriching experience to practice in a completely new city for a little while before I tie myself down–”
“What does my father have to do with this?” I rudely cut her off.
She blinks at me, brows raised at my interruption. I don't bother apologizing, though. Instead, I lean forward and repeat the question, much slower. “What do you mean, ‘like my father said?’”
“He's the one who got me the job in Chicago. You knew that,” she insists, slowly bringing her wineglass to her lips.
I slam my napkin on the table, and Mallory startles. People seated around us turn to look at the commotion that caused our silverware to clatter against our plates.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, running my hand through my hair.
“Sebastian,” Mallory hisses, her face contorted in what should be a scowl, if not for the Botox she has loaded beneath her skin. “You're causing a scene.”
He knows.He fucking knows exactly what I'm doing in Styx, and he knows how close I am to exposing the truth.
How the hell is he always two steps ahead of me?
Renting out the cabin. Sending Mallory to Chicago. He's trying like hell to steal away all my reasons for being here.
Each move has been carefully calculated to knock me off my path. I'm not even surprised. I don't give a shit if Mallory leaves the country to practice. I'm pissed at myself for not seeing this coming from a mile away.
“This is exactly why I think we need space. You can't throw a tantrum anytime something gets in your way,” Mallory berates me in a low, soft whisper as I work through my dad's process in my mind. I'm obviously not listening, but she's too fucking dense to realize that.
This whole thing has turned into such a tangled web. Each time I feel like I have a grasp on one thread, another one slips through my fingers.
I should just kill my father and be done with it. At the very least, I can assume he had a hand in covering everything up. His own fucking daughter. That's how far he'll go to preserve his social and monetary standing. And now, he’s trying to stand in my way of finding the truth.
He's a coward. Death would be a favor. I need to give him something worse.
My thoughts are moving so fast, I hardly notice my prey walk through the dining room before me, taking a seat at a table merely twenty feet away with two other women. Instantly, my attention leaves Mallory and my father and lands firmly on her—my little Stardust, out in the wild.
My gaze locks on her, and my mouth instantly begins to water.
I need a taste.