Beautiful Brute (Court University 3)

Even if his biological son truly was a monster.

Chapter Six

Cleo

A sleep-deprived body greeted me the next day, not looking forward at all for the drive I had to take with my stepbrother in tow. It’d be a quick one, only an hour or so to campus, but with Jaxen so close in the front seat…

He’d literally stared me down last night at dinner, pinned me in place with a shared understanding between us. It was a look that he had all the cards.

It was a look that he could destroy me.

He could, this entire family dynamic, with our secret hookup, but for now, at least last night, he’d kept our drama to the cuff. He’d been the perfect son, chatting with both Dad and Mom and appearing to have a good time doing it. He seemed to really want to be here, even with me.

That’s what scared me the most.

He was so good at the show, the life of the party. He had jokes for days, smiles. At one point, he even showed my parents the latest dance craze on TikTok, showing them his feed before giving an example of himself in the dining room. It’d been a riot.

For everyone but me.

I’d tugged my comforter close that night, needed it close and that security, but every time I did, I smelled him. Drew in his harsh heat and undying warmth. It’d felt so good to be in his arms just last night, but sickened me now.

He did sicken me. With every one of his smiles. His jokes. I kept trying to figure out if he was the real deal.

Or simply playing us all.

I couldn’t blow any of this out of the water, though, threading my fingers at dinner. I chimed in when I was needed to, but for the most part, I gauged my time playing with my hair or staring at the clock. When it was acceptable, I went to bed, and this morning, I skipped breakfast entirely. Eventually, Mom walked it up to my room, and when she found me in my closet packing up the last of my stuff for school, she hadn’t given me a hard time. She figured that’s what I’d been doing all morning. Packing.

Not suffering in silence.

My gas tank was full when I got out to my car, not surprising since I found my parents there too. Dad had packed all the stuff I’d brought to the door earlier, and now, they held each other, waiting for me. This was a routine with us. They always came home, no matter where they were on the globe, to see me off, and we almost always did it early. I liked to get to school before the hallways of my dorm started to crowd, and they had a busy day of activities as per usual. The time generally just worked out for us both, so that’s what we did.

Currently, Dad wore loose-fitting pants and Mom, Lycra leggings and a sports top. They were perfect outfits for playing singles at the country club, which they liked to do whenever they were in town.

I got a big hug between them both when I got out to my station wagon. The old 1970s vehicle was my baby and exactly what I’d asked for when my parents said they’d give me a car for high school graduation. It was a classic, completely restored and shined like it just drove off the lot. It was also my thing and matched my personality. I tended to go for vintage flare, wearing secondhand boots, high-waisted shorts and a top tied at my tummy for move-in day.

“You got everything, baby?” Mom asked, holding me out. “If not, we can always send someone out to get something to you.”

My parents were busy, my dad very important, and even though I had the nannies and caretakers growing up, not once did I feel swept under the rug. Not once did I feel like I was a bother or not loved. They always took care of me, in their special ways, but they always did. I loved them an awful lot for it, and with the separation, I was very independent. There wasn’t a thing that came at me that I couldn’t handle myself.

At least, generally.

My stepbrother was absent from this party, but hell, if I was going to ask about him. I didn’t even want to see him and would have enough of him on the road. I knew he and Dad went out late afternoon yesterday to get his things. I guessed he’d dropped all his stuff off at a hotel when he’d arrived, intending to stay there. Well, when Dad had heard that they’d immediately left to go get his stuff. I’d seen them leave, and when they returned, they came back with a big rolling bag.

Currently, said bag was being dragged outside the house, my stepbrother with a fist on it. He lifted a hand from the front door, and Dad left, going to him.

And hell, if Jaxen couldn’t stop looking gorgeous.

I really hated my eyes. Because every time I looked at him, I noticed all these little things. Like how the wind perfectly captured and tousled his hair, more curly than feathered.

I didn’t want to notice his hair or how his eyes captured the sun in the light. I didn’t want to know how he truly looked like a Hemsworth in all the shirts he strained or the jeans he filled out. Currently, his behemoth thighs hugged a pair of low-rider jeans, sagging perfectly below his tapered waist. He wore a polo, the collar popped and the material hitting his big honking shoulders. I saw every ounce of him, every muscled and perfect inch. I was well aware of what he looked like naked.

And that definitely didn’t help.

Dad got to him, and of course, he helped him with his bag. Mom hugged me, and though I told her I didn’t need anything, answering her previous question, her gaze had been on anything but me. She watched my dad and Jaxen, the pair of them chatting as they headed from the house to the street with us.

Mom pulled me close. “Your dad’s just shining, isn’t he?” she said, so happy too. They both were.

Everyone but me.