Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Cheating like a champ is okay, though. Grant dipped his dick in all the pussy available and is considered a ‘real man’.
Fucking morons.
At any rate. My uncle’s sexcapades, though they were dealt with mercilessly by my father, still hurt the Davenport standing. Because he didn’t kill him.
I kid you not, my uncle was expected to die for preferring dick over pussy. Talk about the Middle Ages.
My father didn’t spare his life out of brotherly love. He doesn’t have that emotion. It was more because he’s categorically against spilling Davenport blood. It’s a bad omen.
Also, my uncle controls the strongest arms of the Davenport trade operation to this day.
And he has the protection of his boyfriend’s mafia connections, so even the other families need to tread carefully before they lay a hand on him.
I take a sip of my whiskey. “What do the childless Osborns intend to do?”
“Bring back their bastard.”
“Marcus?”
“Correct.”
“I thought illegitimate children were a no-no.”
“They are. Unless it threatens their line. Their children are either dead or dying. Marcus Osborn is the only healthy male heir.”
“So they’re completely eliminating Serena Osborn, the literal reason they still exist, just because she’s…a woman?”
“Yes.” My father’s lips lift in a snarl. “Women have no place in leadership roles anyway.”
Says the man who was threatened by some female members of the Davenport clan after my uncle’s banishment, so he had them expelled from the country.
I swirl my glass as I lean back. “Marcus grew up like a thug in Stantonville, and I’m pretty sure he won’t accept the Osborns’ extended hand after they threw him and his mom out on the street.”
“They’ll find a way to rope him back in.”
“And you’ll allow it?”
“Not if I can help it. However, if there’s a general vote, we can’t deny their rights to bring back a male heir. It’s imperative we make a move before that happens.”
“What do you suggest?”
“He’s the captain of the Stanton Wolves, no? Make sure he doesn’t entertain the idea. Captain to captain.”
“He’s not on my level.”
“Then use someone to do the job for you. Jude or Preston or that Drayton girl who wants to marry you. Women are only objects to be used and an accessory to wear.”
Fucking moron. “Noted.”
“The Osborns can’t get back their standing. Not after the Armstrongs crushed and diminished their power recently. Everyone else is meant to be beneath us.” He stands up and pats my shoulder, his fingers sinking into the flesh. “Remember, Kane. No distractions.”
Images of soft skin, blushed cheeks, and smudged lipstick replay through my mind like an old-grained movie. I can still feel her bright-red lips around my cock and see the mess I made of that lipstick once I was done with her. Her jasmine scent—delicate, haunting—lingers in my senses.
A renewed craving floods over me, and a hunger like I’ve never experienced gnaws through me.
I shouldn’t have touched her again.
I shouldn’t have lost control over a nobody.
And she is a fucking nobody.
But the way she looked at me, those hazel eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and defiance, provoked a primal part of me that I can barely repress.
But I’m done now.
I’m back in control.
“What do you think I am? An amateur?” I tell Grant with an expression that mirrors his.
He nods in approval, assuming we’re on the same side.
We stopped being on the same side the day he stopped being my father.
Every man for himself.
After I become a Founder, I’ll bring this man down.
One more year.
Just one more.
I’ve survived twenty-one years. One more is nothing.
So I truly mean it.
Dahlia Thorne will not be a distraction.
The next morning, I show up at psychology class.
That Dahlia also happens to take.
And no, I didn’t find that out because she’s a distraction. I’m just observant by nature and perceive a lot of things about a lot of people, even when they’re ignorant of the fact.
For instance, Pres here is hiding something, and while I’m not sure what it is yet, I know it’s big enough that he’s slipping.
By slipping, I mean both Jude and I have been tightening our observation of his behavior. And that says something since Jude isn’t in any better shape himself.
Preston and I are sitting near the back of the lecture hall as the rest of the students buzz around, their chatter whirling like insects.
“What are you even doing here?” he asks from my right, twirling a black pen and winking at the brunette sitting in front of us.
I flip through the textbook as if I give any fucks. “I signed up for the class at the beginning of the semester.”
“But you never attend.”
“I am now.”
“Why now of all times?”
“It’s as good a time as any.”
“Yeah, yeah. I bet your entirely rational decision has nothing to do with your irrational actions last night.”
I pause, then slowly flip the page. Preston sent a string of texts to our group chat yesterday, gloating and being a general pain in the ass.