If that is the plan, they won’t succeed. Not with me. I’m not used to any of this. The old inn, with its cracked plaster and leaky roof, is way more my style. I’d be just as happy there.
I won’t get lost in this world. No matter how many nice things they offer me.
This brings back an image of Valentina on the opening day of summer rush, dripping with diamonds, asking all the girls if they wanted what she was offering them.
The jewels, and the mansion, and the money, and the man.
I have the man I want. And a little bit of money. More, if I stay true to Dante’s plan and get him crowned King. I like jewelry, but I don’t need it. Really, I could do without all the other things if Cooper is at my side.
The chairman is already tapping a spoon to a glass when we enter the dining room. “Cadee!” he calls. “Please, join me up here with my family.”
“Oh, shit,” I mutter. Because Dane and his wife are already up front with the Chairman and Jack’s wife, Leela.
“It’s fine,” Cooper whispers in my ear. “One toast, smile, say nice things to people for ten minutes, and then we’re out of here. We can talk it all through later. I’ll stand between you and Dane. He won’t get another word with you. Ever.”
I take a deep breath as Cooper leads me up to the front of the beautiful dining room. It’s not as opulent as the Chairman’s dining room, by any stretch. But it’s very pretty. Each table is lower to the ground than a normal dining table. Not as low as a coffee table, but something in between. And the chairs around the tables aren’t normal dining room chairs, either. They are plush and overstuffed like the leather ones out in the seating area. Like dining in this dorm is an intimate event instead of simply a meal and the chairs need to be super comfortable so we can all lounge around as we’re being served.
But no one is sitting. And servers are passing out champagne glasses that sparkle in the sunshine that beams through the windows. Making all the happy, beautiful faces in this room glimmer gold.
Cooper and I arrive at the front of the room and he positions himself between me and Dane as his father begins making the toast.
The Chairman says a lot of nice things. About me, and my parents, and my work ethic. Not that he would really know anything about that. Then my grades and how much I deserve this education and the building. What grades? This just proves he knows nothing about me or my life. I studied things until I learned them, no matter how long it took. And then my mother proclaimed me proficient and we moved on to some other interesting topic.
But whatever. This whole day is based on some other life of Cadee Hunter. Why stop now?
Cooper is handed two glasses and he offers me one with a smile.
And is that a real smile?
I grin back at him, because I think it is. Then I lean up on my tiptoes and whisper, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Cades.”
Yes. His happiness is real. And that’s kind of nice.
“Cheers to our newest Fang and Feather legacy, Cadee Hunter. And welcome, everyone, to the new Hunter Building!”
Everyone claps and clinks glasses. Cooper and I do as well, and then I sip the champagne.
Which has a strong, but delightful strawberry flavor to it.
“What is this?” Elizabeth says loudly, holding the champagne glass up in the sunlight. “What is this?”
She looks at Dane, who is still drinking from his glass.
“Is this strawberry?” Elizabeth shrieks.
“Shit,” Cooper says.
And then the Chairman grabs Dane’s glass—he’s still drinking—and flings it aside. It smashes on the floor and the golden liquid, along with shards of glass, goes flying up, splashing and cutting the bare legs of a nearby girl.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
But then Dane is grabbing his throat. Choking on… what?
“He’s allergic!” Elizabeth screams. “Call 911! Call 911!”
Dane is already collapsing. His head hits the marble floor with a sick thunk, and blood spills out from under his hair.
Everyone begins shrieking.
Jack is kneeling next to Dane, yelling, “Where’s his EpiPen? Where’s his EpiPen?”
And Elizabeth is frantically looking for her purse. Which—was she even carrying a purse?
“What the hell is happening?” Ax asks.
“He’s allergic to strawberries,” Cooper says. And there is no panic in his voice. He is calm and cool. “Very. Allergic. To strawberries.”
“What is the address of this building?” some girl holding a phone yells. “How do I explain how the paramedics get here? Is there a parking lot?”
Jack is doing CPR.
Elizabeth is on her knees crying.
Cooper, Ax, Lars, and I just stand there. Watching this whole thing play out. And then, when I glance over at the Chairman, he holds his flute up to me.
He smiles and mouths the words, “Cheers, Cadee Hunter.”
Then he takes a long sip of his strawberry champagne.
And watches his middle son—the man who raped me when I was fifteen. The man who just an hour ago told me I was bred for him—as he dies on the floor in front of everybody.
CHAPTER NINE - COOPER
We leave. We don’t even wait for the paramedics. Dane is so clearly dead within minutes, and I cannot stand Elizabeth’s shrieking one more second, so we just… leave.
I know what people are going to say. I know. Because walking out on your brother who is lying on the floor dead, his body not even cold yet—that is some heartless shit.
That is some next-level hate.
That is some epic indifference.
Or… or… it’s just the only way to get through the next half hour without laughing out loud and pumping your fist in the fucking air with triumph.
Because that’s what we do the moment we pull out of the High Court parking lot.
We cheer.
It wasn’t even planned. There was no discussion. Hell, Ax, Cadee, and I didn’t even agree to leave the building. We just… walked out. Together. And crossed the campus, and got in the car, and Ax started it up, and Cadee got in the back, and I rolled down the window, and then we pulled out and then…
It started as a laugh.
And I get it. I do. It’s not funny. And we’re sociopaths for thinking it is.
But then, it wasn’t just a laugh, it was a cheer. It was a whole bunch of ‘fuck yeahs!’
And by the time Ax pulled the Camaro into the gravel driveway of the Old Alumni Inn we were whooping like maniacs.
My brother is dead.
And less than two hours ago he was smug. He was confident. He was sure of his place in this world. So sure he was in charge and the rest of us were going to be doing his bidding.
And now he’s dead.
I laugh again and just shake my head.
“Anaphylactic shock,” Ax says. He’s pacing the room with his phone pressed to his ear, trying to get details from Lars. “What the hell is that?”
“A severe allergic reaction,” I say.
“I can’t believe he’s really dead. Ax,” Cadee says. “Ask Lars again. He’s really dead?”
“He’s really dead, Cades,” Ax says. “They already took the body away.”