Page 38 of Pretty Secrets

A crystal glass is placed in front of me with a deep brown liquid poured almost to its rim. Picking it up, I swallow three large mouthfuls, knowing I’m grating on my grandfather’s nerves by not appreciating whatever the fuck is in the glass.

“If you came here to ask me how you stack up against the others, save your breath,” he mutters.

He keeps his words intentionally vague around the girl, even though she’s probably signed her life away to be this close to him. NDA upon NDA, blackmail, threats, whatever it takes to make the little people comply.

“Don’t care about that,” I grind out, feeling the alcohol coat my throat, my voice rasping like Clint Eastwood’s for a brief moment. “Why give me a job and then intentionally screw it up?”

He knows what I’m getting at. I’m supposed to be watching Eden. He reiterated the point by making me be on her fucked-up Pledge team, but then whisked her out from under our own damn noses, making us—making me—look like a damn fool.

He sighs, taking another puff on his cigar. “If you’re not smart enough to understand that you’re also being evaluated again, Leonardo, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Evaluated again? As in arealsecond chance at the Knights? Not just a temporary role he had to plug me into in order to do his bidding? “You’re always evaluating me,” I counter. It’s the truest statement of my life. From childhood, he watched me. Even then it wasn’t difficult to ascertain that I was his least favorite.

My grandfather smirks in response. “And you’re always failing.”

I flinch before rapidly recovering. The old Leo shows up sometimes. The one who had a conscience. The one who wanted his grandfather to respect and love him instead of being used as a pawn. What my grandfather’s just said is his truth. He firmly believes I’m nothing but a failure.

“You shouldn’t have left her alone.”

His rebuke makes me feel like a kid again. “She wasn’t alone. She was with us, but Cummings threw me off.”

The head of the Jarvis line glares at me for using names before slipping his free hand up the woman’s thigh who’s rubbing on him. “Don’t let anyone deter you from this task. I mean it. I can’t stress the importance enough.” From the corner of my eye, I see him pinch her thigh…hard. “Trust is hard to come by, don’t you think?”

“I do,” I growl, thinking of how he led me right to my nightmare. It’s a special kind of torture growing up with a grandfather who does shit like lead you to the setting of the most horrific scene you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

Memories violently flip through my head, consuming my thoughts.

A pool of bright red blood.

Two legs sticking out from around the couch.

My heart pounding so hard in my ears that I couldn’t think.

I tip my head back and down the rest of my drink. Afterward, I glare at him and receive the same cruel face I saw that day. He doesn’t turn it away from me when he reaches around to grab the young girl’s hip, urging her forward on his thigh.

I stand, my stomach flipping. People say I’m fucked up, but they have no idea how much worse I could be with a role model like him.

He peers up, catching my gaze again. “Don’t fail me, Leonardo. I have my suspicions about the girl.”

Turning away, I don’t say a word. He knows I follow orders because he has me by the balls. If he’s so intent on the Astor chick, maybe there’s something I’m missing. Right now, all I see is a girl who came to Carnegie and is joining the Knights because that’s what’s expected of her after her sister died. She’s slipped right into the good little rich girl role.

Pathetic.

I stride across the room, and the images keep coming. Setting foot in that house has triggered everything I’ve tried to forget. Before leaving the building entirely, I stop at the bar downstairs. The bartender flashes fuck-me eyes while I drink four bottles of cheap beer and pretend to pay attention to the game plastered on every screen in the place.

The night draws long. The edges of my vision start to blur, as do the memories I’m desperately trying to forget. Mission fucking accomplished.

Right before I’m tempted to call it a night, the busty brunette behind the bar leans in front of me, squeezing her tits together. “What do you say you take me home tonight?”

Sometimes, it’s that easy. I’ve barely said two words to her as she drank in my tattoos and handed me bottle after bottle. I must mumble something coherent because she flashes a white smile, tells me to meet her outside in thirty minutes and that she’s driving.Probably a good idea, I think to myself as I stumble toward the bathroom, then head outside.

I’m not sure whether she gets out earlier than expected or if I really did fill the time waiting for her by staring at the canopy of stars above. “Aren’t you cold?” she asks as she bounds toward me, wrapping a small jean jacket around her.

I turn, taking in her luscious curves. “Nope.” It must’ve taken as long as she predicted because I’m not slurring anymore. Damnit. Good thing I’m taking this girl home. She’ll help keep me out of the abyss.

“Keys, bad boy?”

I love a girl with confidence. However, I must not be entirely sober since I hand over the keys to my baby, threatening her not to damage my baby as they’re sailing through the air.

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