My jaw tightened at the thought of Granville. Leaning forwards, stretching my fingers towards the ashtray on the table in front of me, I picked up my blunt and took a deep drag, the weed working its magic and mellowing my mood slightly. “Fine. You’re out. Anyone else?”
Weston looked at me. “I’m out.”
“West. You don’t know what…never mind.” He was my baby brother and I wanted to protect him. As far as he was concerned, our mother had died of a brain haemorrhage, a horrible accident. I needed to shield him from the truth.
“I’m still in.” Zayde watched me intently from the tall leather armchair he reclined in, his sharp gaze taking everything in. “I don’t trust her.”
“Who said anything about trust? She’s only a girl. What damage can one girl do?”
I laughed bitterly at Cassius’ words. Women were trouble. Wrapping men around their fingers with their honeyed words and whispered promises, all the while lying through their teeth to serve their own purposes.
“Can I at least ask you to be cautious around her? Don’t tell her anything. Don’t get too friendly with her.”
“Deal. I won’t back out of our agreement to watch her, either.”
I looked at Weston expectantly, and he sighed. “Yeah, same. You know Dad wants us to be friends with her, though, right? Can’t have his wife upset.” We both pulled identical expressions of distaste.
Christine Clifford…now Christine Cavendish. Even if I didn’t know what she’d done, I’d still hate her. She’d made her dislike for both of us crystal clear the second she’d got her claws into my father, once she had the huge, gaudy pink rock of an engagement ring that sat on her bony finger.
As soon as they’d married, she’d become fucking insufferable. She’d tried to become a mother to me and Weston—not in a loving, motherly way, but in an “I run this house, and you will obey me” kind of way. Even worse? My father always took her side, driving a wedge between us that was so big, I doubted we’d ever be able to go back. I shielded West from her barbs as much as I could, but my stepmother was poison, her venom infecting our lives, slowly killing what was left of our family.
Weston thought she was only being friendly to Winter to get to us, but I wasn’t so sure. Christine was a snake, and I knew exactly the kind of malice she was capable of. Meaning, I didn’t trust Winter. It was just as likely that they’d planned something together, and until I knew for definite what was going on, I was keeping eyes in as many places as possible.
If they were working together, I’d soon find out. I needed Christine Clifford to hurt, and if Winter was the key to getting to Christine, I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to fuck her up.
Winter. Fuck. Her pictures hadn’t done her justice. She was so fucking beautiful, and she didn’t even seem aware of it. Long, silky, deep brown hair, piercing blue eyes framed by dark lashes, smooth, pale skin, minimal curves, but absolutely fucking perfect in every way. My dick stirred as I remembered how her hips had swayed as she’d walked through my house, how her pouty lips had parted, her eyes hazy with desire when I’d been all up in her face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My physical reaction made me hate her even more. I could get any woman on campus I wanted with a snap of my fingers, and I fucking hated that my mind had fixated on the one person I despised. She looked so much like her mother, it made me sick that I was attracted to her.
“Cass. Women.” My voice came out raspy, the effect of thinking about her.
“I’ll send the message.” He grinned and tapped his phone screen a few times, then sunk onto the sofa. “Won’t be long.”
Less than twenty minutes later, the room was full of women all desperate to get a piece of the Four, and my dick was being sucked by an eager blonde. I tried to focus on her lips round my cock, but my hard-on was more of a semi, until she appeared in my mind: her sexy body pressed up against mine, a whimper falling from her lips as I touched her in the hallway.
Fuck. I gripped the blonde’s short hair, pushing her head forwards, and she gagged, her eyes watering.
I came, spilling my cum down her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying not to choke.
“Leave,” I instructed, doing my jeans up in angry, jerky movements and pointing to the door.
Like the good little minion she was, she clambered up from the floor and meekly left without another word.
Women.
So fucking easy.
So eager to spread their legs or open their mouths.
I glanced to my left, seeing a tangle of bodies writhing on the floor. I spotted the top of Cass’ head and rolled my eyes, getting to my feet and leaving him to it.
Still pissed off about Winter invading my mind when I was getting a blow job from another woman, I headed into the kitchen, in severe need of something alcoholic. Weston was there already, pulling a beer out of the fridge. He turned around and saw me.
“Catch.” He threw me the beer in his hand and reached into the fridge for another. Popping the top, I raised the bottle in a silent salute, and he did the same, then we both took a swig from our respective drinks. The cool liquid slid down my throat, and I closed my eyes, letting the alcohol soothe me.
“Wanna check the feeds?” Weston offered quietly, seeming to sense my mood. My brother was perceptive. Intelligent and quick, he was a technological genius, and on top of that he seemed to have a knack for reading emotions.
“Let’s go.”
We made our way to the small room that could only be opened with a retinal scanner, programmed to the four of us only, off limits to everyone else. The computer screens flickered to life as Weston wiggled the mouse, showing the various video feeds we had set up and a number we’d hacked into. I focused on one feed in particular, clicking the mouse so that the video took up the entirety of one of the screens.
“Where are you going, Winter Huntington?” I murmured, watching as she crept out of her apartment building, glancing furtively around her, a hoodie obscuring her face.
She hurried around the side of the building, fading into the shadows, and I lost sight of her.
SEVEN
Wobbling on the bike, the wheels squeaking as I pushed the pedals, I cursed my drunken self for coming up with this stupid idea. I’d gone for drinks in the Student Union with Kinslee earlier and had been swayed by the 2-for-1 shots offer. When we’d drunkenly stumbled back to our apartment, we’d gone past my car, where I’d seen the word “whore” shining under the car park lights. The whole story had come out when we got back, and Kinslee had encouraged me to retaliate. Back in our apartment she’d handed me a can of fluorescent pink spray paint, with a “don’t ask” in reply to my raised eyebrow, and directed me towards the door.
Not that I could blame her for my current situation. No, that was all me.
Bloody tequila slammers.
The house loomed on the horizon, and I clambered off my borrowed bike on shaky legs, turning the lights off and stashing the bike behind a handy hedge. Turning off the maps app on my phone, I crept towards the house, staying on the soft grass that ran alongside the gravel driveway. There were at least seven or eight different cars parked outside, and from the music spilling out of the house, it looked like the Four were having a bit of a party. Good. It meant I could go unnoticed.