Page 18 of Cruel Existence

Her eyes weren’t the same. The openness was gone. The light extinguished. The wildfire we had lit had gone dark.

There wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.

I watched as her bodyguard shuttled her into the Escalade and drove out of the alley. The tires screeched as he turned the corner.

Thunder clapped overhead, and lightning streaked across the sky. I didn’t want to think about what almost happened. About how close we had come to setting our bodies on fire. The sheets. My bed. Fuck.

I turned for the back door and walked past Wallace, my house manager.

“Do you need anything, sir?” he asked. He had likely witnessed the scene.

My head dropped.

“I’m in for the night,” was all I could manage to explain. I climbed the stairs to my suite and turned the handle. I glared at the empty bed.

Seven

LUKA

The next morning, I beat my father to his office. He looked surprised to see me. I didn’t work Saturdays. I kept to myself on the weekends, staying as far from my family as I could.

“What’s this about?” He walked past me.

I sat on the arm of a leather chair.

“Do you have any idea how upset your mother is with you? You left before the photographer finished taking all the engagement photos.”

“Sorry about that.” I wanted to snap back that it wasn’t my engagement, but arguing never benefited me.

“Are you?” His eyebrows arched.

“I was in plenty of photos. It wasn’t even the wedding for Christ’s sake.” I bit my tongue. Shit. It was hard to keep my cool around him.

“Try telling that to your mother. It was just as important to her.”

I crossed my arms. “I’ll make sure to check with the photographer before I leave the next party. How does that sound?”

“Who was the girl? Your mother isn’t happy about that either.”

I huffed. “What is she happy about?”

“She wanted you to dance with one of the Depas girls.”

“Why?” My jaw clenched. “I’ve never been interested in them. You know that. Have you seen the Depas girls?”

My father shuffled papers on his desk. “Their father has recently increased his stock in a whiskey business. I think they’re looking more attractive with those kinds of numbers behind their last name.”

“Who cares?” I raised my eyebrows. “Not interested.”

“You are twenty-eight years old.” His eyes bore into my skull. “You can’t keep this up much longer.”

“Keep what up?” I drew a long breath.

“Dating. Running through girls like dirty laundry. You need to make an official declaration and start representing this family.”

“I do represent the family.”

He sat abruptly in the chair. “We have different interpretations of that word. You don’t show the other families that you are committed. Where is the wife? Where are the kids? Huh?”

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