Shattered Dynasty

This is the first time my anger has subsided enough for me to really look at her.

She’s fucking magnificent.

If she were anyone else, I would allow myself the brief distraction from my work to fuck her right here on the desk.

But she’s not someone else. She’s a means to an end.

A final “fuck you” to my dad.

But nothing, not even her pert-as-fuck tits, can distract me from that fact.

What was so perfect about them that he’d sell my sister like an object?

“Payton.” I fill my glass halfway and raise it to her in greeting. “How nice of you to visit me. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” she fires back. Her back is ramrod straight, and her hands rest on her hips.

A warm heat begins to spread inside me. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

Excitement.

I’m excited to ruin this girl’s privilege, built on my family’s pain. Crushing her every dream is a fantastic aphrodisiac.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” she hisses at me. Her tone only makes me smile wider.

“Just you. Why? Is something wrong?”

Her hand drops, and she begins to cross the space that separates us. Her sneakers slap the hardwood floor with purpose. When she is standing directly in front of my desk, she stops.

“Why did you do it? What did I ever do to you?”

“You are going to have to be more specific.” I settle my features, making my face serious as if I have no clue why she’s pissed.

Her lips pucker. She is ready to burst. This is not just normal pissed. She is ready to blow.

I can’t wait.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Why don’t you take a seat?” I lift my hand and gesture to the empty chair beside her. “It seems like you had a rough day.”

“Seriously?”

I let my lip twist up into a smile again. “Yes. Seriously.”

“You really are an asshole.”

I shrug, casually sipping my drink. “I’ve been called worse. So, what can I do for you, Ms. Harlow?”

“Hart. My name is Hart. And I want my stuff back.”

She stands tall, trying to make herself appear strong. Too bad she doesn’t realize I have only just started with her.

I tsk at her. “You really shouldn’t get so attached to material items. It’s not good for your well-being.”

At my words, her eyes go wide. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

I stand from my desk, rising to my full height, over a foot taller than her, if I had to guess.

“No. I’m not fucking kidding you. Being dependent on items isn’t good for the soul. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? Thanking you! You’re ruining my life.”

Cue the smile.

Cue the smirk.

Cue the devil inside me who wants to swallow her whole.

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“I said, not yet. Your life isn’t ruined yet.” I wink, and the hands at her sides fist.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.”

She starts to pace the room. She reminds me of an old cartoon I watched as a child. The one where smoke came out of the characters’ ears because they were so mad.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I already did.”

With that, she storms out. The door slams behind her, and the sound of the force she exerted echoes through the space.

For the first time in a long time, I feel anything is possible.

This will be fun. I pour another drop of liquor on the floor for Dad, watching it splatter across my expensive wood flooring. “Checkmate, bastard.”

8

Payton

* * *

The trek back to Long Island is long and tedious.

One: Without a car, I must take the train.

Two: My cash is limited, so I couldn’t even spend money on a cab to get to Penn Station since I’ll need all my money to get back to campus once I’m off the train.

The worst part . . . my cell is temperamental as hell. One minute it’s on, the next minute it’s off. It’s like someone is manipulating the phone line just to mess with me. Which is ridiculous because there is no way Trent has the power to do that. Right?

My plan, which isn’t a very good one, is to break into my house and sleep there. It can’t be legal to kick me out without notice. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to the lawyer, but tonight, I just need to crash.

Yep, add criminal to my list of problems.

And lord, are the problems piling up.

It feels like the world is spinning out of control, and I’m going to topple over.

Deep breath in.

Exhale out.

A coping mechanism I learned long ago but haven’t used in years.

Deep breath in.

Exhale out.

I’m fine.

Everything will be fine.

And at least I’m in sneakers and not impractical heels.

When the cab from the train station finally drops me off, I pull out my cell and turn on the flashlight.

It’s dark outside, but at least my cell is charged.