Savage Sinners (Elites of Macedon High 3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Parker

A security team trails after me as I walk into my home for the first time in a long time. The foyer stands empty for the time being, but I can hear the servants wandering through the house, many of them new hires who replaced the whores my father banged every chance he got. Without my mother around, I’m a towering figure, a statue made of chiseled, rigid expressions that hide my moods.

The only person who gets to see my moods is Alex—and even she has put a wall between us lately. Her insistence on staying at the pool house on her estate near the asshole who nearly ended her life makes me furious.

But she’s free to do as she chooses, something I haven’t quite been able to articulate now that we’ve vowed to stay together.

Silent hand motions send my security team in every direction. They scout the area, searching every nook and cranny for anyone who might have been hiding in here while I was gone. Mother decided to leave for the city and pursue her dreams of opening a law firm. Though she’ll be nearby, I know she’ll be occupied with her newfound freedom, a life without a mobster on her back every five seconds.

Her decision doesn’t hurt me. It’s likely best since I’ll be leaving for the West Coast once I graduate. Assuming something doesn’t happen between now and then to thwart my plans, the four of us are set to sail for a brand-new horizon.

When my security team reports no strangers in the mansion, I go about my business, checking the office phones for messages and handling the mail. My mother usually sorted through such things. Though I won’t be here much longer, I don’t want to allow this empire to fall into the dust so quickly. There are things I want to take with me—like a good fucking reputation for business. Once things are sorted into a manageable pile, I run upstairs and change into my swimming briefs.

It’s still cool outside when I step onto the rear porch. I take the stone path toward the right of the vineyards and head for the pool, sighing with relief when I notice the sparkling blue water reflecting the midday sun. A cool breeze greets my body as I drop my robe and step into the crisp water, the bracing temperature distracting me as I sink deeper.

A few laps will help ease the pain of this tumultuous change. While I wouldn’t necessarily talk to anyone about it, I feel concerned by Alex’s sudden desire to live without me. Having her close always put me at ease, providing me with a sense of purpose as we prepare to wade into even deeper waters once our plan goes into effect. She’s the key to everything—and she holds my heart in her delicate fingers.

Another lap tires my muscles, but I push through the ache, knowing it’ll help me sleep better later. Returning home is the right choice, even with the way things have been going lately. It’s strange being in the place where Alex’s mother died, where my father and mother will never return, and where I hope to leave for good.

But it’s my home. That must mean something, right?

I gulp air and plunge beneath the surface of the water, floating aimlessly at the bottom of the pool for a few minutes. Sunlight twinkles through the cerulean blue, winking in my eyes as I peer at the surface above my head. When I rise, bubbles rouse around me, tickling my skin as I break the surface and suck more air into my lungs. Wading toward the edge of the pool, I mistake the shadow that passes over me for a cloud instead of a person.

And that’s a mistake I won’t soon forget.

I’m frozen with my hands hanging at my sides as I stare at a Korean man a few inches taller than me. He has a round face with deep dimples cutting around the sides of his mouth when he smiles, black eyes, and thick black brows that arch into his forehead. Rich black hair sprouts from his head and rests in a stylish pomp, matching the decadent raven black of his crisp suit.

He rests a hand over the crimson red handkerchief folded neatly in his breast pocket and bows slightly at the waist.

“Mr. Parker Somerville,” the man greets in a smooth voice. “My name is Darren Park. But you and your friends might know us as the Persian.”

Years of practicing facial expressions couldn’t possibly have prepared me for this moment. I stare blankly at the man for a long time, inhaling every detail of him, from his porcelain skin to his manicured nails. The hand that still rests over his breast pocket twitches slightly as the corners of his mouth slit into his cheeks.

He’s amused. Of fucking course he is.

“You’re defenseless,” he observes, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But the Persian wishes to talk business with you, Mr. Somerville. I hope you understand we had to take certain…” He trails off while glancing over his shoulder. “Measures to make sure we’re not interrupted.”

“What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “I’m sure apologies are empty, but…”

“You don’t look Persian at all.”

His face goes blank for a moment until he breaks into laughter. “Ah, I see you’ve caught on!”

“How could I fucking not?” I blink a few times, trying to clear the chlorine from my vision. Maybe I’m not seeing as clearly as I thought. “Do you tell people that to trick them?”

“Yes.”

The Persian—or Darren Park—plucks a fluffy towel from a nearby chair and extends it to me. When I take it, he grins jovially, as if I’ve just said something amusing. Or maybe I’m amusing to him. It’s hard to tell with how entertained he appears.He folds his hands behind his back and patiently waits for me to dry my body, carefully observing every move I make with glittering curiosity. I’m not packing a gun in these briefs, but fuck, I wish I could.

When I wrap the towel around my waist, I look behind him to check out the vineyards and the porch. Yep, there’s definitely a mess there. And that means I have to be the one to clean it up. “Jesus.”

He smiles as if he’s read my mind and gestures to the stone path. “My apologies about the mess. You do understand, don’t you, Mr. Somerville? I’m sure you do.”

I’m not keen on talking, but I’m also not sure about this guy’s temperament. Is he as psychotic as Alex claims, or is he putting on a performance? I’m aware of how appearances are nine-tenths of the law. Reputations are delicate and finicky things that require constant tending.