Ruthless Secrets (Elites of Macedon High 2)

“Do I fucking look jealous?”

Humming thoughtfully, I flip away from him, tiptoeing around the broken glass to get to a clean table near the window. I lean against the white cloth and trace the glass vase in the center of the table, the white lilies looking so sweet and simple in such a dark time. “Yes, you always look jealous, Parker. I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?”

“Do you really like me that much?”

His silence is oppressive. I get it now, how Tomas was upset in the car the other day. It’s annoying to ask someone a question and get nothing in response. But it’s really not my problem, is it? This is merely a connection of convenience. The sex is a plus, even if it’s with a guy who’s got a fucking anger problem and an issue with intimacy.

“We should do as we planned,” he says icily. “And I’ll do as I promised.”

“What’s the point?”

I hear his boots crunch. His footfalls mute slightly as he approaches, and then his hand rests upon my shoulder, thumb tracing the vein that leads into my neck. It’s almost affectionate the way he does it.

But I know that’s not the case with him.

“The point would be having a united empire,” he explains. “Our marriage could be more than appearances, Alex. We could be the most powerful couple in the entire state of New York.”

It’s so appealing that I take a moment to picture how it might look. Would we have kids? Would we get our portrait painted? How many people would we step on, maim, kill?

His lips graze my ear as he leans close to whisper, “Imagine the empire we would have together. Both of us would be on top of every criminal enterprise around. Everyone would obey us. We could have anything we wanted—anything at all.”

The way his breath skates over my skin makes me whimper.

But it’s just a tactic, a way to exploit my desires. I shrug away his touch, flip around, and stand tall against him.

“No,” I state firmly. “I want it all as my father intended.”

“And how’s that, Alexandra?”

I smile confidently. “By myself.”

He shakes his head and walks back to the table where we wined, dined, and fucked our way to nowhere. As long as I show him I can stand on my own, he’ll respect me. And from there, I’ll gain him as my ally.

***

I’m sitting with Macedon’s elite at the Somerville mansion with a glass of champagne in my hands, observing the families tensely nestled together at clothed tables. Parker sits on my right, and his mother sits next to him, with his father seated across from me. His ugly smile keeps settling on me like she’s about to win the prize of his life.

Beyond his disgusting mug sits each family, many of them wearing sour expressions as if they’ve just watched a ton of puppies get mutilated. The conversation that floats to my ears is thick with apprehension, fear, and ire. What little I catch inspires me to stiffen as though understanding that the gas lingers in the air.

All it takes is one match for everything to explode.

For a moment, everything is all sunshine and goddamn daisies until Amos angrily interrupts my conversation with my mother.

“You’re just a girl,” he accuses. “What the hell do you know about collecting debts and making deals? You can hardly defend yourself.”

I stand up to make a snappy retort when I hear Fletcher shout from his table, “It was Anatoly!”

Gasps rip through the room. Amos spins around to witness Fletcher marching toward Anatoly with an accusatory finger pointed at the stunned man.

“You killed your son!” Fletcher claims. “You’re a fucking traitor.”

Helen snorts while rolling her eyes. “He’s hardly brave enough. But Ophelia? She’s knocked off every bastard from here to the fucking coast that her shitty husband spawned.”

My mother growls like a rabid dog. “Shut up, Helen!”

“Least she didn’t toss her spouse into a drug den,” Tomas states while glaring at his father. “You want to fess up to that now, or should we wait until Fletcher and Anatoly have decked it out?”