Page 8 of Ruse
Just perfect.
Another message chimes just as I lock my phone and set it down on my mattress. I’m still dressed in my outfit from earlier, thank God our newest principal decided to hell with our old-fashioned schoolgirl uniforms, and realize I must have passed out after my altercation with Maverick. That explains why I was so turned on and had a wet dream about him.
Ignoring my phone still vibrating on the bed, I walk over to my attached bathroom and fix my makeup as best as I can. I don’t have time for a shower and re-do it all, so a bit of mascara and eyeliner will have to do.
Grabbing my hairbrush, I comb through my waves, using some water to tame the baby hairs on my forehead. My hair is naturally highlighted with hues of blonde, gold, and caramel, giving me the perfect sun kissed shade many pay hundreds for at the salon and still fail to achieve. Luckily, it doesn’t take much for me to look well put together.
Walking over to my closet, I quickly undress, slipping out of my panties, which are drenched, and throw on a short, white sundress, pairing it with wedge sandals.
My phone continues to vibrate incessantly against the mattress. “Ugh!” I grunt, while opening the new texts.
Brooklyn: Don’t make me come up and get you P. 6:25 p.m.
Brooklyn: I swear P, get your ass down here. 6:26 p.m.
Dee: WE ARE HERE!!! 6:30 p.m.
Ignoring Brooklyn’s incessant texting, I quickly type out a reply to Donovan.
Me: I’ll be out in five. 6:32 p.m.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, quiet not to announce my arrival, I hear laughing coming from inside our dining room. I recognize my father and Daphne, her high-pitched laughter unable to be mistaken, and think about sneaking out and not making my presence known, but something urges me to enter the room. All eyes turn to me the moment I step under the archway leading into the dining room.
The dining room, as is much of the interior of the house, is all shades of white and gray, with navy blue and teal accents, and gold embellishments. The walls and ceilings are eggshell white, the floors and most of the furniture are an ashy gray-wood, and the giant light fixture hanging from the foyer, and the ceilings in both the kitchen, dining room, and living room, is a cross between a chandelier and a disco ball, all cut crystal and gold finishes.
Luxury Beach House Chic at its finest.
“You’re late,” my father calls out, his earlier playful attitude now gone and in its place is the usual brooding scowl I know so well.
Austin Bancroft is everything but fatherly. Rarely do I remember a time when we had one of these family dinners where he was present. If we ever dined in, it was my mother and I who’d sit in silence in this room, and Brooklyn, on the rare occasion he was home, would join us, though never by choice.
“I’m not staying,” I mutter back, Brooklyn’s gaze burning me as he glowers in my direction.
“I told your brother to text you dinner was at six,” my father says curtly, trying and failing to keep his composure. The thing about dear old dad is despite his winning personality and lacking charisma, he's still known to everyone in our world as a stand-up guy. Those in his immediate circle and business associates turned a blind eye to his infidelity and poor choices, instantly taking his side.
“And I made plans since family weeknight dinners have never been a thing around here. I’m going out.” I turn back toward the door, though I’m startled by my father’s loud shouting.
“You will stay for dinner!” he exclaims, standing, and slamming his hands down on the table beside him. The table vibrates, the china and cutlery bouncing before crashing back down. Beside him, Daphne flinches at his sudden outburst. It’s so barbaric and unusual I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me.
“Austin,” Maverick chimes in from his seat beside his mother, calm, collected, and out of his damn mind. I had paid no attention to him, though it was impossible to not feel his presence, especially since I’m sure his stare was fixated on me. But I can’t make eye contact with him. I’m not sure I’d be able to mask my arousal after that dream. “Just let her go out with her friends,” he continues, “We’ll have plenty more family dinners my dear sister will join.”
Maverick’s eyes find mine, a teasing smirk appearing on his face.
The nerve of the asshole, acting like he has any say in the choices I make. I’ll be leaving regardless of what he and my father have to say.
Brooklyn scoffs, clearly agreeing with me, and stands to meet my father. “If she walks, then so do I.”
I roll my eyes at the jerk. Real mature brother.
Suddenly, a car horn blares loudly from outside, bright lights from Donovan’s car in our driveway shining through the floor length window leading out to the backyard.
My father slams his fists down again. “No one is leaving. Brooklyn sit, and Phoenix, stop being difficult and sit down.”
“My dear,” Daphne coos, placing her hand adoringly on my father’s, attempting to calm him. Her bright pink nail polish matches the pantsuit she’s currently wearing, giving Barbie something to talk about. Although she has a son my age, Daphne Carter doesn’t look a day over thirty. That’s what money will do for you. “Maverick is right. She already had plans. It’s not fair to her and her friends who are already waiting for her.”
“And that’s my cue. Don’t bother waiting up Daddy,” I call out, waving my hands in the air and shimming my ass, as I turn and walk out toward the front door.
“Phoenix!”
