Page 71 of SNOB

Once she fell asleep, I couldn’t leave her. I don’t want to think about what would happen if my father took the chopper to one of his meetings.

The easiest thing was to sneak her into my room once the gala died down. I looked like a hero from a romance novel, Ember cradled in my arms as I carried her to my bedroom on the third floor.

Like she’s mine.

That wasn’t an act of desire, that was an act of control. How else do you get a drunk psycho to behave?

By sharing your secret?

I had to calm her down. I had to keep her on my side.

You have an answer for everything.

Sitting on the side of my California king, Ember passed out behind me, my eyes focus on Beau’s phone. Fuck what happened in our ‘copter, I need to keep up my end of the bargain: cracking the code on this thing.

Only thing is, I’ve hit the phone’s limit and now it’s locked. So, I’ll need some outside help but this means clearing our name will take longer than planned.

Glancing back, my shoulders drop. Ember lays curled up in the fetal position, her red hair splayed on my black silk pillow. My abs twitch.

Despite this spacious room, it isn’t meant for anyone but me. The modern features are a contrast to the rest of my home. My father’s home. But the walls are as black as my silk sheets matching the artwork framed in platinum around me. Basquiat’s skull matches Van Gogh’s. The chandelier hanging above my bed shines the only bit of light beyond the black velvet curtains. My drinking isn't as bad as it used to be, but bottles still line a mirrored shelf to one side of the room.

It’s all designed to let the darkness consume me. My escape.

So why does she fit in so seamlessly?

We’re like magnets, pulled to each other’s darkness since the first day we laid eyes on each other. The problem is, it’ll ruin us.

My eyes move to the locket on the vintage chest I use as a bedside table. Opening it confirms once again who her mom is. My eyes settle on her dad, stoic, his hair curly and packed on his head. His auburn eyes bore into mine as if he knows what I just did.

Slamming it shut, I stand to my feet, looking back at Ember again. I’ve been keeping an eye on her at her hotel, but seeing her this peaceful up close makes me… crave a fucking cigarette.

At two in the morning, the house is back to being quiet. A crypt. Making my way into the hall, some staff linger behind, cleaning any leftover gala debris. My slacks are still on, and so is my collared shirt, unbuttoned below my pecks and rolled up past my elbows. Opting for a view, I move down the stairs and out the back patio doors.

The moon glistens on the pool and pond as I grab an iron chair and light up. Sweet smoke hits my lungs before I exhale it to the sky.

We’re in this together.

The words echo in my head. So do her moans. Her gasps, her breaths. My cock twitches. The mere thought of her is enough to wake the beast.

Fucking her is what we both needed. She needed to calm down and I needed to put her in her place.

I needed to claim her. So I did.

“Art.” Father’s voice startles me, my body straightening up. He appears in front of me, still in a suit. It’s a little crumpled, the gel in his hair fading. He puts his thick brown cigar to my cigarette before he pulls up another iron chair. Right next to mine. Glancing at him, those blue, cold eyes catch the moonlight. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to get into the art business?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about but I’ve learned silence is my best weapon with him.

“I underestimated you,” he says, taking a puff. “You’ve filled in on my boring business ventures without telling me about your own.” He glances at me. “The artist that got the biggest bid today, I hear you brought her in.” He chuckles, “Ten thousand dollars for a piece is nothing to scoff at. And to bring the artist here was an extra special touch. I hear the guests ate it up. You have an eye for more than sports. Why didn’t I see that?”

Is that what he thinks?

Settling back into my seat, a weight lifts off my chest. “You’ve been so caught up in what you think I should do I haven’t had a chance to show you.” I play into his narrative.

“Hm.” I can’t tell if he’s thinking or agreeing but I’m not letting this go.

Sitting up further, I turn to him. “Let me focus on this. Let me lay off the usual business side of things and handle this instead. I can do a lot. I know people. This is?—”

“Extraordinarily feasible. Why didn’t we get into this before?”

---