Page 13 of If You Were Mine
“But like one of those homemade dog toys, not the mass-produced kind,” I put in.
“You are so weird. But I love you, Dorian. Do you want me to go get your pain pills? I know it’s almost time.”
Resentment split through me, but I put on a bright smile, trying my best to ignore it. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”
“No, let me help. You don’t have to go all the way downstairs.”
“I’ve got it, Blakely,” I snapped, and immediately regretted it.
It wasn’t Blakely’s fault I was in a pissed off mood.
“Dorian,” Aston’s voice cooled. I wanted to slither up and hide under that stare.
Blakely patted her husband’s chest. “It’s fine. I’m going to go start dinner. Come with me. I want to tell you the whole blowjob thing I talked about with your mother.”
Aston blinked slowly, and I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t smile. “Well, that’s one way to distract me. I’m very confused and I’m afraid I don’t want to know.”
“You actually want to know this one.” I winked and Aston’s shoulders relaxed.
“You’re getting dinner with us, right? You’re not going to hide up here?”
“Aston,” Blakely whispered.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I won’t become the crazy recluse in the attic. At least not yet.”
My brother shook his head. “Dorian. We only want what’s best for you.”
“That’s what everybody keeps saying.” And with that, I turned to go back to my room on the other side of the hall. Of all the homes that we Cages owned, this one was the largest. But considering we Cages needed to meet up en masse often, it was good that at least one of us had the space.
I closed the door behind me, ignoring the worrying whispers between the married couple.
I was exhausted, and it had nothing to do with PT that morning. No, I didn’t want to think about exactly what it had to do with.
I sank down into the comfortable chair in the corner that I knew Blakely had put up here so I would be able to sleep at some point. I hadn’t been able to sleep on my back at first, so the armchair La-Z-Boy had been my saving grace. But even having my feet up didn’t help keep away the nightmares.
My phone buzzed, as the family group chat went on about something or the other. I stopped paying attention. I used to be the one to instigate shit, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was tired, and I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
I hadn’t been lying when I told my mom that my managers were handling my four high-end bars.
The Golden Cage was the highest-end bar that I owned, and the clientele tended to be the wheelers and dealers of politics for the area. Some came from Old Money; the others made a name for themselves. Either way, the drinks were top notch and we’d spared no expense at making the place comfortable yet ornate.
I had three other places that varied in degrees, but they were still doing well. And though I had told my mother my managers were handling everything, I still looked in on them, at least through emails and spreadsheets. I wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at, so I didn’t go to each of them. My managers could handle them without me. Hell, I should have been letting that happen anyway. I was the CEO. I didn’t need to show my face.
I ran a hand over the scar on my jawline, the one that would one day be covered with a beard. Most of my scars were underneath my clothes, so they wouldn’t be gawking for long. I didn’t want them to see. Didn’t want the questions. Those pitying looks.
And that meant I needed to get out of here.
Not just from work, but from the others.
Because the Cage family dinner would be happening at Aston’s soon, and I didn’t want to deal with that. When dear old daddy had died, the true nastiness of his secrets had been revealed. Meaning each of the Cages had found out they weren’t the only Cages in town. I didn’t only have six siblings, I had eleven.
But of course dead old dad couldn’t just stick with a secret family. No he had to screw us in the end. In order for the family company to stay as is and not be divided into so many parts that thousands of people would lose their jobs and ways of life, we had to have family dinners once a month.
With three people from one side of the family and two from the other. We had to document it and send it to our handy-dandy lawyer. And once that was done in a couple of years, there would be more hoops to go through. It was one of the worst wills ever in the history of time, and we still couldn’t get out of it.
My father was a mastermind and hypocritical asshole, and he didn’t stop there. Each one of us got a letter from our father. I knew some of us had opened ours, and others hadn’t received theirs from the lawyer yet.
I knew what was in Aston’s because he had showed us, but I didn’t know anyone else’s.
