Page 2 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

It doesn’t exactly come up naturally in conversation without risking her screaming at me for being a total idiot. And believe me, right now, this feels like one of the dumbest moves of my life.

“It’s fake, a gift from Dad.” I roll my eyes, walking toward my kitchen.

“Your DILF getting scammed? So unlikely, spill!”

I grab my thermos full of coffee and a banana before turning to Jasmine who stares at me with narrow eyes. “One, what did I tell you about calling my dad a DILF?”

“Not to, but I told you if I ever fucked a man it would be your father, full stop.” Jasmine leans over me grabbing an apple to add to her theft of my homemade corn muffins. “And stop trying to escape the fact that you are not telling me something.”

I run my fingers across my lips and shrug, miming as if I am zipping my mouth closed and throwing away the key. I slide past her towards my front door, throwing a wink at her.

“Oh, this conversation is so not over.” Jasmine snaps, lurching forward to grab me, but I shimmy out of her grasp, and make my way to the front door.

She twists up her lips and places one hand on her hips. “You know, besties don’t keep secrets, especially not big ones,” shecalls out, her voice sing-songing but laced with a warning. “And you know I’m like a bloodhound for drama.”

“Drama?” I laugh, trying to keep my tone light while fumbling to grab my bag and adjusting my grip on my thermos. “You’re being dramatic; there’s nothing to sniff out here, promise!”

Jasmine folds her arms, one brow arching high. “Oh, honey. I can smell the secrets from here. And when I find out, you’d better believe I’ll be saying ‘I told you so.’”

As I reach the door, I throw another wink back at Jasmine, who’s still smirking with that look that means she’s never dropping this. “Promise. You’re on a need to know basis, and right now, you don’t need to know.”

“Oh I need to know.” Jasmine snaps as I twist the doorknob and swing the door open—and my heart nearly stops.

She continues without missing a beat, her voice lowers almost to a whisper. “What the hell is Damien Sterling doing at your front door?”

Damien Sterling is standing right there, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that could make a nun lose her religion. He’s in a dark button-up, open and half-untucked, with a white tank peeking out beneath it, jeans that look like they were practically stitched to him, and scuffed Timberlands. His buzz cut is its usual platinum blonde, but now there’s a tiny broken heart in red and black ink near his hairline.

As if I needed another way to embarrass myself in front of him, everything I’m holding slips out of my hands—a thermos, a banana, and my dignity all hit the ground.

Damien raises an eyebrow, a scowl twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I knew it.”

Jasmine, halfway through a mouthful of my corn muffin, pauses and narrows her eyes, flicking between Damien and me. “Wait. Hold on—whatexactly did you know that I don’t know?”

I scramble to gather my things, trying to keep my cool, but my face feels like it’s on fire. “Nothing. He knows nothing. Damien’s just...here for no reason, right?” I glance up at him, hoping he’ll go along, but of course, he looks like he’s having the time of his life watching me squirm.

“Sure. No reason at all,” he says, crossing his arms, his smirk deepening. “Just a friendly neighborhood visit, checking in on my...investments.”

Jasmine’s face goes from curiosity to pure anger and her gaze snaps back to me. “Oh.Hellno. Tell me he did not just call you an investment?”

Jasmine goes to walk forward to get into Damien’s face because as scared as she is of the Chessmen, she loves me more and would totally punch Damien in the face, but I just stand back up and place a hand on her shoulder stopping her from committing social suicide.

“It’s a joke, Jas. Let me talk to Damien. I’ll meet you in the car.” I whisper.

Jasmine gives me a tight nod, her gaze never wavering from Damien as she takes a step back.

“Alright,” she mutters, crossing her arms as she sizes him up. “But don’t think for a second I’m out of the loop. And if he tries anything…” She lets the words hang, giving Damien a final,pointed glare before shifting her eyes back to me. “Text me the second you’re free. We’re talking aboutallof this.”

She shoots him one last warning look, then heads toward her car, glancing over her shoulder until she’s sure I’m alright.

The second she’s gone, I turn to Damien, narrowing my eyes. “Why are you here?”

Damien leans in closer, the scent of mint, apples and leather invades my nostrils making my stomach twist. I try to maintain my composure as Damien's storm gray eyes bore into mine. “I am here to make sure you didn’t steal our money and run off like the thief you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I guess I owe Vincent a hundred dollars,” Damien sighs as his eyes slowly travel over my body, taking in every curve and angle as if calculating something. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But he owes Cast a hundred.”

“What?” I snap, fixing the strap of my bookbag on my shoulder.

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