Page 37 of Bound By Them
I turn off my phone so I’m staring at a blank, black screen. Then I tuck the device in my bag. I don’t care what those two infected dicktwists are up to.
Isabelle strides toward me, waving and apologizing for being late. She squints. “You’re frowning. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally.” I force a smile. “I had some time to think about mistakes I’ve made, and how I’ll never make them again.”
Edmund
As the sole heir to the Layton organization, I think it’s pretty fucking unfair how much time I spend running errands. Which is why I’m scowling as Troy and I march up to Sergey Aseyev’s front door with a get-well basket—a gift from my grandfather.
Is it kindness driving this errand? Hell fucking no. My father cleared that up right away. He said, “They need to know that we know they’re weak. Vulnerable. Let Sergey sit with that for a bit.”
Which is fucked up because Sergey just had a heart attack, but that’s my old man for you.
Since I’m holding the big-ass basket full of fruit and snacks, Troy knocks on the giant front door. I take a good look at the house while I wait for someone to answer. It’s one of the first places built on the edge of the Old Thirty-Three district. Like the others nearby, it sits on probably two or three acres. Although it’s a mansion, it has a rustic cabin vibe.
The driveway is gated, but after a guard searched us for weapons, he let us through. Sergey isn’t that worried about outright attacks—our families don’t work that way.
The front door swings open. None other than my bestest friend Dmitri Montrose opens the door. He’s even wearing his trademark frown.
“Montrose, good to see you.” I can’t fucking believe my luck. I get to run an errand for my family and ruffle Dmitri’s feathers.
His dark blond eyebrows meet in a scowl. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I lift the gift basket, which should speak for itself. “We heard Sergey was under the weather. We’re here with a get-well gift.”
Troy and I never talked to Danica about why she was at the hospital last week, but my family has people with an eye on the Aseyev leader. Just like I’m sure he has people checking in on my father and grandfather from time to time.
“Nope.” Dmitri starts to swing the door closed.
“Please.” I don’t want to beg, but I can’t go back to Rendsell with this basket. “It’s a gift from my grandfather to yours. It’s a gesture of goodwill.”
Dmitri looks like he’s about to slam the door shut anyway.
“Let them in,” Sergey says from behind Dmitri.
I didn’t think it was possible for Dmitri to scowl any harder, but he’s smashing through my preconceived notions. What a treat.
We step into a small foyer. I stop short—is that—? Well, fuck me. She’s in faded jeans and a dark blue top. The barest hint of a purple bra strap shows at the neckline of her shirt. Her light blond hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and her face is bare of make-up. Danica Montrose is the epitome of girl-next-door.
I’ve never wanted to corrupt someone as badly as I do now.
Unfortunately, she looks just as happy to see us as her brother does.
“Edmund, right?” Sergey pulls my attention back to him. “Ed Senior’s boy?”
“That’s right.” I grin like the wholesome boy scout I never was. “And this is my best friend, Troy Manchester.”
Sergey shakes our hands. “Would you two boys like some coffee?”
If Danica weren’t here, I’d say no. But she is, and I can’t resist. “Yes, sir, we’d love some coffee. If it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Of course not. And none of that sir business. Call me Sergey.”
We follow Sergey down the hall and into a large kitchen.
“What the hell.” Danica jabs a finger in my direction. Then she looks at Troy and quickly lowers her hand.
“Don’t be rude to our guests, Dani.” Sergey’s voice is full of censure, but at the same time, affection.
