Page 8 of Endgame

We linked arms, but I had to take a moment to steady my nerves before I could walk. God, he was so tall and he smelled delicious; like soap and cologne and man.

“So, this sucks,” I whispered, as we trailed after our parents.

“Does it?” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, as he stared straight ahead.

“Um…yeah?” Even in heels, I barely reached his shoulder in height, and had to crane my neck up to look at him. “Don’t you agree?”

“Cut the shit. I know what you want,” he said after a moment, voice still seductively soft. “You and her.”

I stiffened. “And what’s that?”

“Money,” Rourke replied softly. “It’s written all over her face – and yours.”

“You’re wrong about me,” I bit out, voice shaking a little, as we reached the entrance and stepped into the sunshine. He didn’t let go of me and I didn’t move away from him. I knew I should but I…couldn’t. I was determined to defend myself to this boy. “I don’t want this.”

Stopping several feet away from the bridal party, Rourke released my hand and took a step back from me. “My father might be stupid enough to fall for your mother’s shit, but I’m not him.” Folding his arms across his chest, he glared down at me. “Don’t think I’ll make the same mistake with you…”

I KNEW FULL WELL that Rourke Owens thought my mother was a gold-digger – he’d said as much on their wedding day.So did I,but I wasn’t about to voice that opinion to a guy who had obviously decided he hated my guts before getting to know me. He prejudged me and my intentions. He didn’t know shit.

Rourke’s eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred for me as he leveled me with a look that said everything he was feeling in the moment.

Disgust, loathing, disappointment, mild boredom, and pure hatred.

He wasn’t going to accept me, I realized.

Well, fuck him.

People had tried to break me before.

He would fail, just like the others.

Bring it, asshole,I thought to myself. Let him hate me. Saved me the trouble of feigning any plausible amount of politeness around him. I wasn’t much of a talker anyway. I preferred to use my energy on other things, and if Rourke Owens expected me to swan in here and kiss his ass, then he had another thing coming. I was nobody’s bitch and he was about to learn that.

“And Amelia,” Gabe added, taking his seat at the head of the table. “My daughter?”

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from the horrible, beautiful bastard and focused on the meek blonde sitting beside him.

“Hello, Mercedes,” Amelia acknowledged with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again.” She looked younger than fifteen, and fragile to boot.

And even though Ireallydid not want to like these people, there was something about the sadness in this girl’s eyes that caused the ice around my heart to thaw just a little bit.

“Hey,” I replied, inclining my head in her direction. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. Surprisingly, it seemed to be enough for Amelia because she beamed back at me.

Thankfully, the cook arrived then with our starters and, bringing with her, my excuse not to speak.

With my head down, I ignored the chattering coming from my mother and Gabe, choosing to focus on the snot-colored soup in my bowl. Christ, what the hell was that? Pea soup?

Braving the unknown, I dipped my spoon into the bowl and shoved it into my mouth, determined to get on with this damn dinner.

Not bad.

Feeling more at ease now that I knew the soup didn’t taste like a certain body part, I allowed my thoughts to wander as I ate it up…

It felt like my life had been thrown into the fast lane. Four months ago, I was wrapping up junior year with a 4.0 GPA and a full college scholarship in close sight.

Now, I was a little more than a month away from starting my senior year of high school in a snobby private school on the east coast, hundreds of miles from home, all because my mother couldn’t keep track of contraceptive jabs.

You would have thought having me in her sophomore year of high school would have made the woman more proactive and careful, but no, Cassidy James at thirty-three was as reckless and irresponsible as she had been at sixteen.

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