Page 130 of Plaything

Easy target.

“A group of Charles’ business partners watched her leave, and they were about to follow her up as a group, but a crooked, corrupt man named Lestat said something to them before they fell back, and he went up alone after her. Obviously, I went up after them,” he took a thick pause. “Are you all there?” he asked.

“Yes.” We answered in unison, eagerly waiting for him to finish his horror tale.

“When I passed by that group of men, they were whispering profane things—things I won’t repeat. When I got up to where Odette and sick-fuck were, she was standing at the end of a hall, and he was blocking her exit around him, spewing some shit about how she learned ‘big girl things in college’ and how he was going to pull her into a room and fuck her. The poor girl was literally frozen in terror when I stepped in. I threatened him, mentioned the four of you, and he fucked off,” he finished.

Lestat.

Although the name never left my lips, I could taste the poison on my tongue. Vincent was wise not to mention a last name. Even so, I was sure it wouldn’t be hard to find him, assuming he was wealthy and what some would consider upper-class.

Knowing what happened and what was about to happen to her tonight made my blood burn under my skin. The scene played out perfectly in my head; I could picture her frozen in shock.

She mentioned her legs locking up before when that fuckass Ridley tried to fuck her. Unfortunately, freezing up like that was a widespread defense mechanism, or in her case, a trauma response.

Whoever Lestat was, he was on top of our shitlist, and for his sake, I hoped we’d never cross paths—and that Dominic wouldn’t hunt him down and beat him to death.

Vincent yawned while he started speaking again. “Then shit really hit the fan when Charles started talking, but I’m sure she mentioned that part.”

I shared a look with Wyatt. As usual, we were on the same wavelength and equal parts, confused and concerned that she didn’t tell us about the evening at all. “She didn’t tell us anything,” I repeated. We were entirely in the dark.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, probably thinking the call was ended and he could go back to sleep. “Charles announced to everyone at dinner that he’s dying. He has stage four cancer, and the doctors told him treatment would just put him in more pain at this point. The old fuck is too stubborn to go out on cancer’s terms and has a scheduled euthanasia the day after Odette graduates,” he explained quickly. “You should have seen her face, man... she didn’t even touch her dinner,” he muttered.

How could she pity him? I knew he was her father, but the man was clearly cruel and abusive. My conclusion only came from what she’d chosen to tell us, and I knew there was more. Maybe I was just a shallow, soulless monster—but if I were her, I’d be celebrating.

“The most fucked part is, he had his will read. Close business partners, ex-wives, and his staff get a small percentage. The rest of his billions...” he paused for emphasis, and I rolled my eyes. “Is going to her... husband.”

“She’s married?!” Niko blurted, an insane, wild look behind his eyes.

In unison, we hushed him. “No, dumbass,” I assured. “He’s not giving the money to her; he’s giving it to the man he assumes she’ll marry—it’s sexist; he’s basically putting her up for auction for the highest bidder,” I explained while lighting my second cigarette of the night.

Niko relaxed and slowly nodded, coming down from his alarm. He was intelligent, more than he should have been for a man of his age, but damn... deep down, beyond his olive skin and dark hair, he must have been blond. Sometimes, things went right over his head, or he’d interpret them much differently than we did. We were always entertained, to say the least.

“Is that even legal?” Wyatt questioned.

“When you have enough money... you can find loopholes or tip-off lawyers to make things happen,” Vincent answered.

My stomach was in knots, and I understood why she may have wanted to wait till morning. It was a lot in one evening, and she needed to process it. I also understood her insistence on having sex tonight. If her father left a future husband in the will, she probably felt a lack of self-worth and powerlessness. She wanted to have sex on her own terms—I respected that.

“Anything else? Like a last name?” Dominic rasped.

Vincent chuckled, but there was hardly humor in the noise. “No, that’s everything. Charles took her to talk in his office after dinner, but no one knows what was said.” He avoided Dominic’s pry for information about Lestat.

He was a stranger to us. A stranger who was enemy number one.

“As much as I’d like to sit here and listen to you all breathe, I’m going back to sleep. Sorry for the bad news,” he voiced before the call ended.

Looking around at my friends, none of us knew what to say. Words weren’t necessary; we knew what had happened now—mostly—there was still the question of the blood on the bedsheets. Our girl had been through hell tonight, and I was just glad she was home again.

An overwhelming need to wrap her in my arms and scare all her monsters away took over. I disposed of my cigarette and dismissed myself from my friends, returning to my room.

She was right where I left her, sprawled out in my bed with long eyelashes fanning over the apex of her cheeks. She truly was a beauty.

Attempting to keep her asleep, I slid into bed next to her. My efforts failed as she shifted in her sleep. “Aiden? Where’d you go?” She mumbled, sleep heavy in her tone.

“The bathroom,” I lied. “Go back to sleep, Doll,” I coaxed.

Her cold feet brushed against my thigh as she curled beside me. “I’m hungry,” she announced, rubbing her tired eyes.

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