Page 26 of Misconducts & Temptation

I blew the smoke toward the ceiling, barely paying attention to his tirade.

"Your actions were disgraceful! You were seen alone with some girl at your own engagement party—do you have any idea what that does to our family's reputation?"

I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate. "I don't care about our reputation," I muttered.

He ignored me, as usual. "You need to focus on what's important—your future with Lola, the family business. This reckless behavior has to stop."

His words faded into background noise as my mind drifted back to the girl from last night. Her face flashed in my memory, a mix of mystery and allure that refused to let go.

"... are you even listening to me?" His voice snapped me back to reality.

"Yeah, sure," I replied flatly, taking another drag from my cigarette.

His face turned red with frustration. "Keaton, this isn't a joke. You have responsibilities?—"

"I know what my responsibilities are," I cut him off, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray. "And they don't include playing house with Lola."

He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You will do as you're told. Or you'll find yourself without a cent to your name."

The threat hung in the air between us. I met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

"And what if I want to play?" I asked, the words coming out sharper than intended. I was one of the few players who hadn't been drafted, but a couple of teams were interested, and they were all far away from here.

My father clenched his teeth, his face hardening. "Your mother indulged this… this passion," he spat. "But she's not here, and I—" He glared at me, eyes like ice. "You'll inherit the business, do you hear me? You're not some NHL player, especially not with you smoking the way you are. You're going to settle down?—"

"Does it matter with who?" I cut in, my curiosity piqued.

"W-what?" He looked taken aback.

"You want me married, don't you? For our reputation? Does it have to be with her?" I pressed.

He gave me a long look, as if weighing his words carefully. "Let's not kid ourselves, Keaton," he muttered. "Who else is going to have you?"

"It's not like I'm fucking poor," I shot back, hating that his words hit home. My nose was broken and my face wasn't exactly pretty. I was rough around the edges; I knew that. But damn, my dad was such a dick about it.

"Lola actually wants you," he said. "You have a history."

"That bitch fucked my cousin," I snapped. "And my best friend. You think I want to touch her with a five-foot pole? You must be fucking lit."

"You know fidelity doesn't mean anything," he said coolly.

I felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside me, ready to explode. But instead of letting it out, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. "It's not just about fidelity," I said through gritted teeth. "It's about respect. And Lola? She doesn't respect anyone."

He scoffed. "Respect? In our world, respect is earned through power and influence, not feelings."

"And maybe that's what's fucked up about our world," I shot back.

For a moment, there was silence between us—a rare moment where neither of us knew what to say next. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something—maybe weakness or submission—but he wouldn't find it.

Finally, he spoke again, voice low and dangerous. "You will marry Lola or lose everything."

I held his gaze steadily. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. This wasn't just about marriage or inheritance anymore; it was about control and freedom.

"What if I married someone else?" I asked, my voice cold and defiant.

My father lifted his brow, a condescending smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "Who else would marry you?"

"What the fuck do you care?" I shot back. "As long as it's done?"

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