Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1) - Page 12

“Oh, come on,” she says. “Can’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? It’s not every day we find ourselves able to live in such luxury. I know Orlando runs a tight ship. He’s strict and will have rules which I’m sure are bound to ruffle your feathers, but in the long run, I know you’re going to be happy here.”

“And his pervert son?”

Mom’s eyes go wide as she whips her head around, making sure we haven’t been overheard. “What did I tell you about that? There is nothing wrong with Jensen. He is a perfectly acceptable young man, and you will do well to make friends with him. Just because he is different to you, does not mean that he is an awful person. I know he graduated last year, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind showing you the ropes around here, help steer you in the right direction.”

My lips twist with unease. “Maybe you’re forgetting about the whole bathroom situation at brunch last week.”

“A simple misunderstanding, I’m sure.” Mom huffs and rolls her eyes as she moves back toward the door, already frustrated with me, but what did she expect? That I would take the word of a stranger without question? She’s completely uprooted my life, taken me away from the friends I’ve grown up with, and shoved me in this robotic world full of white walls and strict rules, a world that I never once imagined myself having to become accustomed to.

Mom stops by my door, glancing back at me with a firmness I rarely experience from her. “I will have your boxes sent up to you. Unpack quickly and ensure you have enough time to go over your class schedule.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Frustration burns through me like lava in my veins, and I narrowly avoid sprinting after her just to slam the door in her face. She’s completely screwing me over here, only thinking about herself and what she wants. Does my life not matter to her? She claims this whole move was about finding us somewhere safe to live, but she’s already made it clear that this is all about becoming Orlando’s newest show pony and getting to live out some ridiculous fantasy of being a trophy wife.

The shrill ring of my phone brings me out of my rage-induced panic, and I dart across my new room before scrambling through the box on my bed. My fingers close around my phone and I bring it up to find a facetime call from Erica and I quickly accept.

“Oh my God, show me,” she says, as usual, not bothering with a hello.

“Ugh,” I grumble, crossing the room to close the door only to stumble back a step, finding Jensen peering in. “Can I help you?”

A grin settles across his face and unease drops into my gut like a lead weight falling from the sky. “Not at all,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, probably cupping his cock as we speak. “Just thought I’d do the hospitable thing and check in on our new guest. After all, we’re practically siblings now.”

Gross.

“Let’s get a few things straight,” I snap, stepping closer to grip the handle of the door, more than ready to slam it in his face. “We are not siblings. We are not friends. We are nothing, just two people who have to live down the hall from one another. You don’t come into my space, and I won’t come into yours. Touch me and I will make your life a living hell. I will make sure you rot and burn. Your life will not be worth living. Got it? I'm not here to fulfill your gross stepsister fantasy.”

Jensen winks and it has a chill sailing down my spine. “Got it, little sis. I’ll make sure you feel perfectly welcome here. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He backs away, grinning to himself, and I don’t hesitate in making the door fly. It slams shut with a loud bang and I don’t doubt Mom is going to berate my ass for being so disrespectful, but fuck it. I’m sure if she wasn’t so blinded by Orlando’s silver fox status, she’d see that his son is an asshole.

“Was that your new roomie?” Erica asks.

I bring the phone up and see her face staring back at me. “Yes,” I grumble. “That was Jensen. He’s such an ass. I’ll have to search the room for peepholes and spyware.”

“Don’t forget to search for gloryholes,” she mutters. “The last thing you want is to reach for the light switch only to get a handful of cock poking through the wall.”

An unladylike snort pulls from the back of my throat. “Where the hell do you come up with this shit?”

“Hey,” she snaps back at me. “I don’t ask you about your childhood trauma, so don’t bring up mine. Now, show me your new room. Is it fit for a princess?”

Tags: Sheridan Anne Bradford Bastard Erotic
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