Shattered Dynasty

“What other expenses?”

“Living.”

“What else do I need if I’m in your apartment, asshole?”

“Again, with the asshole thing. Well, you do need to eat every day, right?”

“You wouldn’t,” I seethe, making a mental note to keep a log of anything that may violate a legal definition for the standard of care.

“Yet you know nothing about me because if you did, you would know I totally would.”

I take a few deep, audible breaths, trying desperately to calm the anger bubbling up inside me. “What exactly am I going to have to do to get living expenses from you?”

If he says sleep with him or anything sordid at all, I’m out of here. I’d rather be homeless again than be his toy.

“All in good time,” he answers cryptically.

It isn’t long before we pull into a garage under a building.

We are at his place.

Where Trent Aldridge lives.

Where I am about to live.

The last time I was here, I didn’t pay much attention to where I was. I knocked on the door of the address my sister gave me and was let in. Well, I barged in there.

Now, I look at it with fresh eyes. The building looks somewhat like a loft or warehouse and stretches a whole block.

A shiver runs up my spine as we get closer to parking.

I know nothing about this man, and now I’m being forced to stay with him. Where will he make me sleep?

Shit.

A thought pops into my head. I try to shoo it away, but I can’t . . .

What if he expects something from me that I am not willing to give?

It feels like a bucket of ice is dumped over my head, and the shivers intensify at the thought.

No.

He wouldn’t expect that.

Would he?

Then there is the story he told me about his father. A father who sold his own daughter.

Shit.

What have I gotten myself into? Maybe the apple didn’t fall so far from the tree like he previously stated.

Maybe this is all a ruse to get me.

I could be in real danger.

I bite down so hard on my lip that I can feel the pinch of pain right before I taste the coppery liquid that leaks into my mouth.

“What do you want from me?” I ask quietly, and he ignores me.

The car pulls to a stop, and then it’s shut off. His driver steps out and moves to open the door for me. No point appealing to him for help . . . from his boss.

I step out.

“Come with me,” Trent says, breaking through my haze. He starts to walk toward the door that enters the building. I don’t move.

“No. First, tell me about your expectations.”

He stops, reluctantly. His back is still to me. “For you to shut up and do as I say?”

“No can do.”

“Just get upstairs, and we’ll talk.”

“I’d rather do it here.”

“I’d rather not be in this situation.” He swivels, pinning me with a look. “And before you embarrass yourself—no, I don’t expect any sexual favors from a college kid. Now, get the fuck upstairs.”

I follow him inside like a lost doe.

The last time I was here, I didn’t notice how big and open the space was.

I just barged into the first door I saw, which, by chance, happened to be exactly where he was. The room, I’ve come to realize, was his home office. Now, I’m calm enough to look around.

The space has huge high ceilings, white walls, and exposed beams.

Normally, I assume this type of building would probably hold multiple apartments, but I imagine with the endless amount of money he has, he bought them all up and knocked down all the walls.

It’s huge.

Artwork decorates the space. Dark black-and-white photos bring contrast. It’s beautiful. Void of emotions, but beautiful, nonetheless.

“This way,” he says as he leads me down a hallway. “Your room is over here.”

“My room?”

“Yes. Your room, Payton.” He says my name with pure disdain. As if he hates that I’m here as much as I hate to be here.

Then why am I?

He swings the door open, and my breath hitches.

The room is huge.

Again, all white.

White bed.

White sheets.

White walls.

It’s perfect.

No . . . it’s sterile.

As if it has never been used before.

I’m almost afraid to walk into the room.

The thought of making it dirty is giving me anxiety already.

No wonder the guy made fun of me when I was lying on the floor.

Besides the fact he’s a complete dick, he must also be a clean fanatic.

“As you will soon see, living here doesn’t have to be all bad.” I roll my eyes. It doesn’t matter how beautiful and pristine this place is. It’s still a prison. I didn’t choose any of this.

* * *

“Why am I here? All this BS and you still haven’t told me why you are doing this to me.”

“Because despite what you say, I don’t fucking believe you’re innocent in all this. Maybe you didn’t know about what happened to Ivy and the Russians, but no way you’re ignorant about everything else.”