His eyes lock with mine, and what he says next is the last thing I want to hear.
“I need West for a few. You boys wait downstairs.”
Dane and Sterling both shoot me curious glances.
“We’ll wait in the car,” Sterling says, stepping inside the elevator to head down to the lobby. But his eyes are set on Dad as the doors close again.
Now, it’s just us, the man who rushed down here looking every bit as insane as I know him to be.
“What?” My tone is hard and unfeeling, which makes perfect sense, seeing as how I feel nothing for him whatsoever.
There’s something in his eyes I don’t expect to see, though.
Concern.
I’m admittedly curious now, wondering what this is about.
He leads with a gravely spoken, “Son … we need to talk,” that has my heart racing because he sounds just like Parker. No conversation in history has ever gone well after beginning this way, and as I stare into my father’s eyes, I don’t believe this will end any differently.
For the fraction of a second, I’m worried he’s found me out, knows the huge mistake I made, but I force myself to relax and remember who I’m dealing with here. If he’d rushed down here because of a ‘me’ problem, he’d be much more relaxed. He doesn’t care about anyone that much. Which means this is a ‘Vin’ problem.
What the hell has he done now?
Vin
“Care to explain this?”
West leans in and his expression never changes as he glances at the two-week-old picture. One that damn-near gave me a heart attack a few minutes ago.
Pam rushed into my study, hysterical, squawking about how she thinks our boys might be sexually active. After crushing her fragile heart with news that I’m positive they’ve had the pleasure of defiling at least a dozen girls each, she shoved her phone into my hand before storming off.
And when I glanced down at the screen, what the fuck did I lay eyes on? Like I don’t already have enough shit to deal with? My son—the star of Cypress Prep’s football team, and future quarterback for the best D-1 college in the state—dicking down a pretty blonde I know all too well.
“You fucking her?” There’s no need to sugarcoat anything with my boys. They’re cut from the same tough cloth as me. Not that flimsy shit they bypassed from Pam’s side of the family.
He doesn’t answer, but his stare is furious, and I can tell by the look in his eyes he feels something for this girl.
“This what you’re doing now?” My teeth grit together upon asking. “You ran out of good girls to screw, and had to start digging in the trash? Because that’s exactly what this one is. Trash. Straight out of the gutter.”
Again, he just stands there, clenching his fists.
“Do you care even a little about what this can do to your reputation?” is my next question. “Getting yourself caught up with one of the school’s charity cases? Playing with south side filth isn’t a good look for you.”
Boy’s head’s as hard as a brick. Hence the reason I fight to keep him and his brothers in line. They need me. Whether they realize it or not. Even if they hate my methods.
“How could you possibly know that?”
His question catches me off guard and I don’t miss the growing suspicion in his eyes.
“How could I know what?” I ask with a frustrated sigh.
“That she’s not from North Cypress?” he clarifies. “That she’s from the other side of town?”
Shit.
I’m usually very careful with my words, only saying things I mean to say. It’s an art I’ve mastered, but West is usually the one to catch my slipups. Little shit is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and usually asking the wrong questions. Like now. In my anger, I screwed up again.
Royally.
I don’t immediately have an answer, which only makes me look guiltier, I’m sure. His expression shifts and it’s hard to read. The uncertainty that creeps in has me on edge, though.
“You don’t even have to say it,” he suddenly interjects. “I’ve known for months.”
I feel the tension in my brow, and right away, my thoughts are on the phone in the safe. The one I’ve secretly suspected West had already snooped through. Now, I’m more certain than ever.
“Son, you don’t understand what you saw. It—”
“How long?” he cuts in. “How long were you screwing her? What’d you hold over her head to get her to sleep with your old ass?”
It’s at this moment that I see where his mind has taken him. Only a boy would assume the obvious, but in this situation, it suits me that my son is a bit naïve. That he believes I only have one flaw—my weakness for young, pretty blondes.
Straightening my suit jacket, I hold in the triumphant smile that almost gives me away. Kid doesn’t even know he’s just given me the upper hand again. So, I play the part, pretend to feel shame for having been found out.
“West, I—I always intended to end it,” I grovel. “Things between Blue and I are … complicated. They have been for a while now.”
“She’s fucking eighteen,” he shouts, showing more of his cards than I think he means to. Showing that he does, in fact, have one hell of a soft spot for this girl. All this proves is that I’ve taught him nothing.
“I know,” I add with an air of regret, “Which is why we stopped for a while. She was seventeen at that time and I didn’t feel right about things.”
His face twists with anger and I welcome the idea
