Page 130 of Tempting Little Thief

My father rolls on as if I haven’t spoken. “You will not leave the house until then, and to make sure, I will be placing a guard outside your door. On top of that, I will be the one who picks you up. You will wear what I send over for you, and you will not fight me. You may be in charge when it comes to matters of a Greyson, but you are in charge nowhere else.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Focus on what I have told you.” He gives a single curt nod and moves for the door. He tugs it open, eyes finding mine over his shoulder. “The enemy is coming, daughter. Be ready to do as you must.”

With that, he leaves, the door swinging right back open as not one but four of his guards step through.

Fuck my life.

Chapter 22

Rocklin

Many times my father shocked me when it came to Boston, like when he didn’t send her to a convent after she shared how she approached Enzo Fikile alone on Alcatraz Island to propose a union between the two. Or when she agreed to the contractual marriage that ended before it began for the most recent examples. He had to know this would happen, that she would bail and choose herself over her responsibilities.

It isn’t new for her.

Boston always had a knack for doing the opposite of what she was told. It’s an odd dynamic really, because she’s seen as the weak one. The “lesser” twin, and while I’m pissed at her decisions lately, I also admire my sister. She’s blinding in an effortless way, even when she sinks into herself with episodes of depression or doubt. She’s my mother and I’m my father. She’s nurturing and I’m … hard. There have been times when I envied her lack of fucks when it came to training or topping the chart in academia. She never fought for our father’s approval, whereas most of my life has been one move after another, reaching for it because he continuously set a new goal in front of me, waiting for me to reach it.

In his eyes, she was the goose, I was the swan, and it had nothing to do with appearances but everything to do with her lack of devotion. He’s more or less loosened his reins on her while tightening mine, when it should be the opposite.

So yes, I’ve been shocked many times by his lack of action or overall decision-making regarding Boston. Though nothingcomes close to when I slide inside my father’s car to find my sister already seated inside, golden ball gown poufed up all around her, blonde hair in an elegant twist.

Her eyes flick to mine, but she says not a word, turning to fill the champagne glass in her hand.

“I guess tonight will be an eventful one,” I comment, my attention pointed at my father.

He knows what I’m thinking, so I don’t have to say a word. Why he would bring her with us, away from the protection of the grounds, when his entire reasoning for her being here was his lack of concern or assumption that Enzo wouldn’t dare enter.

But The Enterprise?

Enzo holds a suite there, so should he wish to enter, enter he may.

Two nights ago, after my dad left, I didn’t even make it to my stairs before the girls came down from their wings, sleepwear in hand. They stayed in my room and we didn’t leave it once over the last forty-eight hours. We had no idea who could be listening in, so we didn’t trust the phone, and we had some digging to do but came up short. My father claims he was given a manifest, but Bronx could find proof of no such thing. That’s not to say it doesn’t exist, it might. Probably does … but what if it doesn’t?

What if he lied?

Why would he lie?

That’s the question that won’t leave my mind. Why would he lie if he did, and if he didn’t, tonight is going to be one hell of a party for all in our world to witness.

It won’t be just Greyson Elite Academy alumni and their families in attendance tonight, but other Mafia families, local and traveling gangs, corrupt royals and more. The richest of the rich, the elite from all around, will come together in one place as we do once a year in recognition of the relationships we’ve forged in the last few. It’s a risky move on the best day, so when the head honcho takes a contract and spits on it, then flaunts the fawn before the faux?

It’s no wonder the dress my father sent hides what must be carried underneath it.

But if he’s expecting trouble, why are his only heirs on the way to step right in the middle of it?

“Dad, did you hear about Rocklin’s new recruit?” Boston asks after several minutes of silence.

He looks to me. “I did not …”

“He’s brilliant, a quick thinker, and quite striking in a nonconventional sort of way.”

My eyes slice to hers, and she lifts a blonde brow, swirling rather than drinking her champagne.

“So you took my advice.” My father nods, half listening, half paying attention to his phone. “You’ve considered adding more males?”

I open my mouth to speak, but my sister beats me to it.

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