The Ritual

What will my parents say when I come home for the holidays, and they ask why he’s not with me? How will I explain this? It’s practically an arranged marriage without the ring and signed contract. Maybe that’s why he’s cheating. Because he knows no matter what, I have to end up with him. Two families forming one. “Do you think this is why he never let me come here?” I ask her. “Because he’s been with her the whole time?”

She looks away and sighs, thinking the same thing I am.

Is this why he has been questioning me about Ryat? They say the one accusing you of cheating is usually the bastard stepping out. How long has he been with her? Weeks, months, years? It could be any of those answers.

She didn’t look familiar. But Barrington is massive. She might not even go there. He’s made her his girlfriend? He didn’t even acknowledge me when Sarah corrected her that I was his girlfriend. Have I never even been?

“Fuck him!” I hiss.

“Yeah!” She gives me a drunken smile. “Let’s go back out there and dance some more. Okay? Show that piece of shit what he’ll miss.”

“Okay.” I throw back some more of my drink and then set it down, not wanting to wear anymore of it.

RYAT

I SIT BACK, watching Blakely through the two holes in my mask as she makes her way back to the dance floor. The chair vibrates my ass from the speakers being right behind us while “Numb” by 8 Graves plays. My right knee bounces with anticipation.

I choose you!

I’m guessing that since she threw a drink in her piece-of-shit boyfriend’s face while another girl was hanging all over him means he’s no longer in my way.

Makes things a little easier for me. Not like I’d let that motherfucker stop what I plan on doing. His fuckup is my gain. She’ll willingly allow me to take her as mine. Never underestimate a woman hell-bent on revenge. She’ll do anything to make an ex regret what he didn’t appreciate.

I didn’t think she’d show, but it couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it. She’s here while Matt’s with Ashley. He never would let Blakely come to our house. Didn’t want her seeing what goes on. How the Lords operate. Kept her as far away from the members as possible. He knew that she wasn’t his guarantee. Not until after graduation anyway. He’ll marry her because that’s what his father told him to do, and she’ll hate him because he’s shit.

A solid foundation for a marriage, if you ask me.

Blakely throws her hands up and sways her hips to the music, causing her wet shirt to rise. My eyes drop to her pierced belly button and run down her exposed skin to where her jeans sit low on her hips. I run my tongue along my teeth, wishing they were her body.

“Three hundred and twenty-five so far,” Lance speaks into my ear.

I nod but say nothing. It’s amazing what boring rich kids will do for a little excitement. As the seniors at Barrington this year, we’re upholding a century-old tradition by throwing this party to kick off the school year.

The ritual is a game the Lords made up to pass the fucking time.

Imagine having more money than you could ever spend. More than your grandkids could ever spend. More than your great-grandkids … well, you get the point.

Somewhere, something has to give. After graduation, you begin your new role in the world as a Lord and settle down with some bitch who’ll fuck the pool boy any chance she gets. She’ll have the nannies raise your ungrateful children while you’re flying around the world working, fucking a one-night stand in your penthouse suite that you met in a bar and won’t bother to remember her name.

Yeah, I’m cynical. Love doesn’t exist. Convenience does. Most of us are already set to marry that certain person who will make our lives a living hell. There’s a reason the rich stay rich—arrangements are set in place before we even come along. Empires are combined to remain indestructible. Contracts signed, promises spoken, and alliances made to ensure our futures remain on top.

My eyes find her again just as she turns around and walks out of the ballroom. “Watch the floor,” I say, getting to my feet.

“Got it.” Chance waves me off.

I step down off the platform and make my way through the crowd. Finding her in the hallway, I watch her push open a door and stumble inside. She exits immediately. My girl is drunk off her ass. I’ve been watching her ever since I saw her step onto the dance floor. At one point, I knew she felt my stare. I wonder what she would think if she knew what I plan on doing to her.