Ruin (The Rhodes 1)

She leans close until her strong cherry perfume chokes me.

“No one is here, Aaron.” She purrs and bites her lower lip. “You can lose the honorifics.”

What was her name again? All I remember is that it starts with P. She’s a blonde with blue eyes, too. Her body a perfect hour glass. She’s beautiful. Even more so than Mae – objectively speaking.

Yet, beside irritation, she brings no emotion whatsoever.

None of them do. Women for me are either a one-night thing or targets I can manipulate. Nothing more. Not

hing less.

Why is Mae different? Why in the gates of hell’s name do I want to throw P-something from the balcony so I could go back to watching the kitten?

“Well, that’s the thing. Your name isn’t important enough for me to remember.”

I walk past her, but she clutches my arm. My glare falls to her fingers, then back to her face. She licks her lips and my hand twitches to break her arm or choke her. No one touches me unless I allow them to.

“Remove your hand this instant,” I growl, barely reining the urge to break her neck.

She flinches and moves back, opening her mouth to say something. Her words don’t reach me as I stride out of the windy terrace, and back to the reception hall.

I spend the rest of the evening chatting with rotten souls. All while itching for a solitary moment so I can check on Mae.

This obsession of mine is growing to an alarming level. Another human being possessing my thoughts should be out of the question.

‘Kill her and get it over with,’ Aunt whispers.

That’s the most logical thing to do. Yet, some strange place in my mind is discarding that option. Is it Mother’s voice? I can’t really hear it.

When the long evening is finally over, I march to the car and skip the etiquette of waiting for the driver to open the door. Once I’m inside, my hand reaches into my pocket to restart my watching session. I motion to the driver to go when babysitter number two barges into the backseat.

Gates of hell, suck Dylan out of existence in the most gruesome way.

My prayers aren’t answered, and the car rolls away from Lowell’s residence.

“You have your own car.” I don’t bother to tone down the irritation lacing my voice.

“Our estates are next to each other. Why waste gas?” Dylan pulls out his phone and starts typing in it. Probably stocks as usual. He’s obsessed with those. That’s why he’s the mastermind of investment in Rhodes & Hart Conglomerate.

“You only like being my keeper.”

His smiles widens. “There’s that too.”

Now is a good time to explode his head, gates of hell.

Nope. Nothing.

Instead, we talk about business. Actually, Dylan does the talking part. I’m musing about what to do with Mae.

My blood pumps faster at the thought of breaking that free bird inside her. How long can she keep that determined face once I start pushing her thresholds?

‘Don’t stoop that low. She’s an innocent, Aaron.’ Mother echoes in a soft voice I grew to despise. ‘You don’t hurt people who never hurt you or those who don’t present danger to others.’

‘Stop being a smart-arse,’ Aunt replies. ‘Aaron fantasises about spilling everyone’s blood.’

‘But you don’t do it, Aaron,’ Mother says, tone urgent. ‘You have that much restraint. Don’t lose it now.’

‘Fuck off!’ Aunt bellows. ‘Aaron, can we kill that cheesy voice?’