- SEVEN YEARS EARLIER -
“Are you sure you don’t want to come away with us for the summer, Miles? We have so much fun shit planned,” Marcus groans as I continue to pack the last of my belongings into my large bag.
“I wish I could, but I have to go home. Courtney wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”
Even though I try to keep my tone calm and neutral, my racing heart betrays just how worried I really am. My little sister, Courtney, is twelve-years-old, and she’s always been a good kid. She gets on with school, keeps to herself, and helps to take care of our mum.
Neither of us has had the easiest of lives, but she’s never once complained. She always just gets on with things. So when she called me on my final day at university, just two days before me, Marcus, and Jacob were about to go travelling, asking for me to come home, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
She wouldn’t elaborate on why she needed me. She just said she’d tell me when I get there.
I finished my final day, woke up early this morning, and started to pack. Marcus has been trying to talk me out of it for the last half an hour, but he knows my family comes first.
“Can’t you go home, see what she wants, and then fly out to join us? It’s our final summer to really let loose.”
My mind ticks over as I think about whether this would be possible. We’ve been planning this trip for months—our last blowout of sorts. After the summer, Marcus and Jacob have to go home and take on the roles they were born for.
They are both heirs to the mafia families who run Blackthorn, and once their education is over, it’s expected that they will work with their fathers to learn the business before taking over when they turn twenty-five.
Marcus has already hired me to be part of his security staff, and I’ve been training with his father Maximus’ team, so I’m ready when the job starts. We all just wanted one final summer with no responsibilities before we have to embrace the hectic and dangerous life we’re destined for.
Don’t get me wrong, I could walk away from all of this shit—unlike Marcus and Jacob—but Marcus has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and this became my path from then.
If he’s walking into the fray, he can be damn sure I’m going to be by his side.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see what’s going on when I get there,” I tell Marcus, not committing either way.
It’s unlikely that I’ll be able to meet him, but I have a sneaking suspicion—given the way he’s staring at me intently—Marcus won’t want to go without me. He’ll want to come home, to make sure Courtney is okay.
Sure enough, my suspicions are confirmed when he opens his mouth. “I’ll come with you, then. We can find out what’s going on and fly out after that.”
Before I have time to respond, Jacob, who has been sitting on Marcus’ bed, watching me pack, opens his mouth. “Absolutely fucking not. We are going on this holiday like we planned. If he wants to pull out or delay, that’s on him. We are not changing our plans.”
I roll my eyes at the way he deliberately avoids saying my name. As I cast my gaze over to him, he drops his head, suddenly finding something on his lap incredibly distracting.
Fucking coward.
“Pretty Boy is right. You should go without me,” I state, keeping my gaze fixed on Jacob, eagerly awaiting his response.
As predicted, Jacob’s head snaps up, and he glares at me. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he snarls, and I can’t help the way my lip tilts up into a smirk.
“What’s the matter? I thought you liked it when people acknowledged how good looking you are?” I reply teasingly.
Even though he’s glaring at me, I don’t miss the light blush that spreads over his cheeks. I try to ignore the way my heart races, but it’s not that easy.
“I like it when it’s a compliment, not a thinly-veiled insult,” he retorts through gritted teeth.
I let out a laugh that sounds closer to a snort. “Oh, there’s nothing thinly-veiled about my insult.”
Jacob leans forward, looking like he’s about to start the usual rant he flies into whenever I push his buttons, but Marcus stops it. “Enough. I don’t have time for you two to bicker like a fucking old married couple. Half the time you ignore each other, the other half you argue. It’s giving me a bloody headache.” He even rubs his temple to really hammer the point home.
Both Jacob and I grumble our apologies, like chastised schoolchildren, as Marcus throws himself onto the chair beside his desk. “You’re really not coming with us?” he asks me.
I shake my head, my lips pressed in a tight line. “I really wish I was. My family needs me.”
Marcus lets out a huff, but he nods in understanding. “Then you should go to them. But, promise me this—if you need me, call and I’ll come home.”
We both know I won’t call him and disturb his holiday, but I tell him what he wants to hear. “I’ll call if I need you.”