Wicked Liars (Windsor Academy 1)

When she died, the only thing my dad inherited was a small savings account and a few vacation properties. My maternal grandfather had insisted she had an iron-clad prenup, equally dividing the bulk of her estate to any children she gave birth to. My father challenged the will, trying to find a loophole, but there were none. The only reason I know any of this is because my grandfather told me shortly before he died two years ago. He hated my father—never trusted him and rightfully so. Preston Davenport is one shady motherfucker.

I haven’t brought any of this information to Ainsley’s attention yet. As far as she’s concerned, our dad is cold, absent, and a habitual womanizer, but she has no idea what evils he’s truly capable of. I know one day it will come to light, but I’m choosing to protect her naivety for the time being.

I shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk. “You wanted to see me? This couldn’t wait until you got home?”

He shakes his head. “I’m heading straight to the airport after this. I just needed to drop in and check on a few things before I left town.”

“Where are you going now?”

“Miami. The annual yacht show doesn’t begin until Friday, but there’re industry professional events throughout the week. I figured it was a good time to spy on the competition.”

I have no doubt he’s heading to Miami. I do, however, highly doubt the reason behind this trip has anything to do with boats.

I nod. “Why am I here, Dad?”

The LA skyline is behind his back as he steeples his fingers. “I wanted to see how your little project with Jasmine Callahan is going.”

“I have it handled.”

He raises a salt-n-pepper brow. “You sure about that? I hear she’s causing problems with her stepsister.”

I clench my jaw. “Peyton is the one causing problems and I have that handled as well.”

“You know...” My father twirls a pen between his fingers. “I have no problem with you sampling the merchandise, so to speak, but I hope you know better than to get emotionally involved with this girl.”

“Who said I was emotionally involved?”

His greenish-brown eyes, identical to my own, assess me carefully. “I have my sources.”

I scoff. “Well, your sources are wrong. I don’t get emotionally involved. The only thing I want from a woman is her pussy.”

A genuine smile lights up his over-Botoxed face. “Don’t forget about their mouths or asses. Hell, even their tits, although the Callahan girl doesn’t exactly have those assets.”

I grit my teeth. I happen to love Jasmine’s tits. Yeah, they’re small, but they’re perky and they fit her tiny frame. It’s actually nice being with someone natural for a change. Shit, I’m pretty sure my sister and Jazz are the only girls at Windsor who didn’t get a set of double-Ds for their sixteenth birthdays.

I bite back what I really want to say and instead, tell him what he wants to hear. “She doesn’t need ‘em. With her tight pussy, round ass, and plump lips, my dick has plenty of places to go. If I ever wanted to fuck a pair of big tits, I have plenty on standby.”

My father releases a boisterous laugh. “That’s my boy! You’re right—she doesn’t need the tits. I wouldn’t mind taming that girl one bit just the way she is. Maybe you can throw her my way when you’re done with her?”

I resist the urge to launch myself across this desk and punch the asshole. The sad thing is, this man has no clue how fucked up this conversation is between a man and his eighteen-year-old son.

I scrub a hand over my face, my tolerance wearing thin. “Is that all?”

He nods. “For now. Although, I feel I should remind you what’s at stake here. You do well with this, Charles and I will introduce you to a world you could only dream of. Countless beautiful women, eager to please, and riches at your disposal. He and I aren’t getting any younger, you know. We could use someone like you on our team.”

I force myself to look bored with this conversation. “What team?”

He gives me a smarmy smile. “All in due time, son. All in due time.”

A KNOCK SOUNDS AT THE door of my pool house. I check the time on my phone, surprised the pizza delivery guy is here already. When I open the door, my face falls. I was expecting a large pepperoni and olive. Instead, I get a tall, over enhanced blonde.

I block her entrance when she tries crossing the threshold. “What do you want, Vanessa?”

My father’s wife trails her French-manicured nail down my chest. “Your father’s gone.”

I remove her hand when she goes for my belt. “So?”

Vanessa pushes her shoulders back, which causes her tits to jut forward. She’s wearing a sheer, light pink nightie with no panties. It’s pretty obvious why she’s here right now, but I enjoy making her squirm.