Page 29 of Best In Class
I say nothing.
I’m tired—tired of him, tired of this endless back-and-forth with the world he represents. In my mind, he’s become the poster child for everything I resent. The Tommy Mintons. The Nathaniel Steeles.
Spoiled. Entitled.
Men who think the world owes them something just for existing.
I give him nothing, just empty space.
I don’t owe him anything, not even my anger.
“Dad?” Lev turns out to be closer than I thought.
I knew he was home—noticed the lights that went on a couple of minutes ago, which Nathaniel didn’t. He must’ve seen his father’s car and knew where he would be, trying to agitate me.
You’ll have to try harder, motherfucker. Men worse than you have thrown everything they had at me—and all they ever saw was polished granite. Unshaken. Unmoved. Unbreakable.
“Son. I was just catching up with Dom here.”
Lev’s expression shutters. “Were you?”
Nathaniel shrugs—his cocky expression in place. “I’m surprised he’sstillliving with you.”
“I asked him to stay.” Lev steps beside me, just a little ahead, as if putting himself between me and his father.
He’s protecting me, and it makes my throat tighten.
Nathaniel says nothing, just arches an eyebrow, sarcasm and disbelief oozing out of him.
“I didn’t know we had an appointment,” Lev remarks.
Nathaniel looks miffed. “I can’t just drop in to see my son?”
“Not when you’re coming explicitly to insult a friend I think of as family,” Lev replies.
“Iam your family, son,” Nathaniel growls. “Not this?—”
“You need to see me, you call my secretary, and she’ll schedule time for you. Don’t come to my home again.”
Nathaniel looks from Lev to me, hate sparkling in his eyes. “Your mother wants to see you for dinner on her birthday.”
“Let my secretary know when and where. I’ll see if I’m available,” Lev replies tautly.
But I know he’ll go.
Jenn Steele is a shit mother by any standards, but Lev is a damn good son. He’s there for his mama no matter what—no matter that she’s high as a kite, numbing herself from reality, and has been for a good part of her children’s lives.
Nathaniel spins on his heel and storms off without another word.
“Thanks for not breaking his jaw,” Lev mutters,taking the glass of Scotch from my hand and knocking it back like it’s water.
“It’s the least I can do, considering you’re letting me squat in your pool house.” I grin, trying to push down the residual disgust Nathaniel always leaves behind. Trying to lighten the mood—because I know having him around wears on Lev, too.
Lev snorts, but the sound is hollow. The humor doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.
I take the empty glass from him and pour another from the bottle sitting on the side table, the one I’d been sulking beside before Savannah’s favorite tyrant decided to pay a surprise visit.
I pass the refilled drink back to Lev, and drop onto a lounger with a sigh.
