Page 404 of Filthy Elites

Just like that, my cock jumped to attention. I bit back a growl of frustration.

When the chick had left, I paced my room for a few minutes. This wasn’t good. Having fun with the women who fawned over any hint of gang power was one of the few things in this life Iwasreally good at. Anthea wasn’t going to ruin that for me. No fucking way.

Why the hell was Dad even letting her stick around all this time? She’d already spied on us once, when she was a lot less capable than she clearly was now. Was he out of his mind?

I decided abruptly that I’d better find out. Sure, I didn’t generally talk strategy with Dad, but Iwasstill his son. If he had some grand plan going on that involved the Noble interloper, then I should know about it, shouldn’t I? I deserved to be filled in on why he was making us put up with the treacherous bitch.

He was holding court in his office, like usual. I heard voices through the door and shifted on my feet as I waited, knowing he wouldn’t like me interrupting. Especially when I didn’t have anything he’d see as urgent to discuss.

I strolled down the hall, halting when I realized I’d almost reached Anthea’s room, and spun around to stalk back. Thankfully by the time I’d approached the office again, the two lackeys who’d been consulting with the old man were heading out.

I brushed past them and strode into the office, channeling a little Darius, because why not? Dad seemed to like him best, so my big bro was obviously doing something right.

Dad’s eyebrows rose from behind his desk as he watched me cross the room. He set aside the paper he’d been writing on and folded his hands together. “Felix. What brings you here, son?”

He probably figured I wanted permission to throw a house party or something. To be fair, that was closer to my usual M.O.

I rested my hands on the back of an armchair, grappling with the best way to bring up the subject. I settled for straightforward but relatively neutral. “I was just wondering how long we’re going to be housing that Noble asshole’s sister. She seems to be making herself at home here.”

Dad waved off the remark, leaning back in his chair. “I think it’s good having her under our roof. Ezra might not have wanted to deal with her, but I doubt he’s completely detached from his sense of family. If we need leverage, we’ve got her right here. If we want to prod some information out of her, it’s a lot easier with her where we can control her.”

How much had he actually interacted with Anthea for him to think controlling her would be remotely easy? She’d probably be out the fucking window, never to return, the second she caught the slightest whiff that he was heading in that direction. Hell, that might even be why she’d already been slipping out the window to start setting up alternate arrangements.

No, that would be assuming that she didn’t have nefarious purposes of her own here. That she actually needed shelter instead of her sob story being a gambit.

“That makes sense,” I said, because it was always good to pay a compliment before you said any kind of criticism. “But what if she’s digging up information aboutus? That whole story about Ezra could be fake. We know he’s had it in for us. And it’s not like she’s any stranger to sneaking around under false pretenses.”

Dad’s hard-edged face darkened with a frown. “I knew you boys all got a little attached to her, but I didn’t think you expected so much from her that you’d see her getting married to someone else as a betrayal. You never even talked about her after her last visit.”

Why would he think I meant that kind of betrayal?

“No,” I said. “I mean her last visit. The whole thing—Holly must have told you about it.”

Dad only looked more puzzled. “Holly told me that Anthea left early because she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to be at home,” he said. “Do you think she was pretending about that? Did the three of you have some kind of falling out with her? You really need to put those kinds of silly teenage squabbles behind you after all this time, Felix.”

Frustration bubbled up inside me alongside my shock. He didn’t have to be so fuckingpatronizingabout it.

And did he really not know? Holly hadn’t told him? Had she thought he’d blame her for not noticing Anthea’s treachery sooner or something? Or maybe she’d been worried he’d get angry with the messenger in general and assumed one of us would broach the subject with him, saving her the hassle.

Shit.

I groped for the words to convincingly explain that the woman whose plea for help he’d apparently bought into had actually been a sixteen-year-old lying, conniving cunt all that time ago, but before I could get out more than a, “Well…” Dad’s new favorite lackey burst into the room.

The guy didn’t even knock, for fuck’s sake. He pushed past the door with his bulky shoulders and marched over to Dad’s desk like he belonged there, his beady eyes skimming over me likeIdidn’t.

Griffin, that was his name, like a fucking mythological beast. He looked like some kind of creature, all right.

“I need to touch base about something, Marcel,” he said in a low urgent voice, switching to ignoring me completely.

I cleared my throat, but Dad made a dismissive gesture at me. “I think you’ve said enough. If you see anything that’s a real cause for concern, bring it to me then.”

I opened my mouth to protest and realized Ihadn’tactually seen anything. That was, other than Anthea dishing back what we threw at her as fast as she could, but I didn’t think Dad wanted to hear about that.

He’d care if I caught her in some kind of scheme. I’d just have to keep my eyes peeled. Hell, maybe if I was the one who nailed her—for a crime, not the other way, although I wouldn’t mind breaking her like that too—he wouldn’t look at me like a total putz.

I nodded and stalked out of the room. I was just starting down the hall when one of the regular minions from the household ducked out of Dad’s lounge room a couple doors farther along.

His head was ducked, his curly brown hair spilling over his forehead, his stout frame a little hunched. What washisname? Something with a B… Brandon? Brent?

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