Page 66 of The Vengeance You Crave
Thoughts about going elsewhere so he doesn't follow me back there flicker through my mind, but it's pointless. He already knows where I live. He saw me that night with Elijah. All I'd be doing is putting off finally getting into bed by messing with him.
With a loud sigh, I head for home, trying to ignore the fact his headlights follow me all the way there.
18
Luca
My knuckles split once more as my grip on the pen in my hand tightens.
I should be focusing on whatever my professor is saying, but I can't get the image of her in that little skirt last night out of my head.
I might have only been in The Locker Room with her for a short period of time, but it was enough to have the image of her bending over to pass her asshole customers their drinks burned into my brain.
The thought of all the other douchebags in that place seeing the same thing made me fucking murderous.
She's mine.
Mine.
I fucking hate that she's working there. And the fact she clearly has no idea who actually owns the place because something tells me that she'd have run a mile if she knew the truth.
Our dad is nothing if not protective of his public image, so it's hardly surprising that he's not openly announced his involvement in a seedy chain of sports bars that litter the country. I always wondered why he didn't make them just sports bars but then I guess he'd lose the majority of his customers who only come for the waitresses and the extras they offer behind closed doors.
Confusion swirls around me as I once again think about what Peyton told me that night five years ago. I've been so adamant since, that she was the liar, but I can't deny the facts.
I wanted to believe that she was lying because I couldn't cope with the alternative but now she's here, openly standing before me and calling me out on it, I can't help but wonder if I did have it wrong all these years.
But if I was wrong and she was telling the truth, then it would mean that my dad… the man I've looked up to all my life is a…
I scrub my hand down my face, pushing the thought aside.
No.
No. It has to be lies.
Our father is a lot of things. But he's not that.
He wouldn't. He just wouldn't have done what Peyton claimed he did.
* * *
My head is still a fucking mess after hours in the gym after my classes. By the time I walk up to the front door of our house—a house paid for by our father—not only does my body ache from the beating I took from Leon, but my muscles pull from my workout.
My eyes are heavy, my body sluggish as I make my way to the kitchen for some food before I crawl into bed and crash.
I barely slept last night. All I could think about was her andthem.I couldn't help wondering at what point she’ll realize that she can make even more money to pay off the debts she has by allowing them to take what they want.
I want to believe that Peyton really isn't like that. But then I'm sure every woman thinks that until the offer of the money they so desperately need is right there for the taking.
"Bro." Leon nods when he walks into the kitchen behind me as if he was waiting for me to get home. If he wants to give me a lecture then he really can stick it up his ass because I am not interested in anything he has to say.
He doesn't know anything about the situation between me and Peyton, and as far as I'm concerned, the less he—and anyone else knows—the better. I won't have any member of my family's name dragged through the mud because of some teenager's accusations. Our father might be a cunt, but he's our father, and I'd protect him to the end, if it came to it.
Thankfully, the first words he says aren't to attempt to rip me a new one again.
"You've got a visitor."
My initial thought is that it's Peyton but then I get over myself and realize that she's never going to willingly come anywhere near me after the weekend.
