Page 28 of One Twisted Lie

“I don’t know,” I mutter, my heart leaping through my chest into my throat as I gulp. “But it can’t be good.”

Both of our dads are standing close together, both of their faces heated, both radiating a kind of hatred that one would think is physically impossible. Our mothers aren’t any better, standing just behind them, eyeing each other like vermin, cats with claws ready to strike.

It isn’t until my dad spots me that his features change. He becomes more collected and less hostile as he waves me over. “Ah, there he is. Ozymandias.”

Carter and I give each other one last look before we approach our parents. Immediately, my dad claps me on the shoulder as my mother kisses my cheek. I’d say it’s the warmest welcome I’ve ever gotten from them. They’re not negligent, we’re just a cold sort of people. I mask my surprise as I swallow harshly, standing straighter in my dad’s presence. “What’s going on?” I ask.

My dad smiles, and it’s a sort of wicked smile that’s only ever reserved for the Everetts. “I was just telling Keith what good friends you and Carter are now.”

My eyes widen. He what? Isthiswhy he asked me to befriend Carter? Did he just want something to throw at Keith Everett’s face? That seems too juvenile for a billion-dollar CEO, but I can admit that if that’s all it is, the nerves in my stomach settle at the thought. “Father—”

“My son would never stoop so low,” Keith hisses, pointing a finger at me. I don’t deflate under his pressure, however. I know better. Instead, my automatic reaction comes out. I square my shoulders and keep my chin high. I’m the fucking king of kings and somebody like Keith Everett will not fuck with me.

My father narrows his eyes at Keith and any ounce of restraint he had diminishes under his steely stare. “As if there’s something wrong with being a Clark.”

Keith scoffs and lets out a cruel snort. “You mean you greedy little sons of—”

“Keith, darling,” Carter’s mom says, a firm grip on her husband’s arm as she pulls him back gently. “We’re in public.”

Keith huffs, his face red as his beady eyes look around the room. It’s not shocking in the slightest that people are staring. It’s like watching a bad car crash. Nobody can tear their eyes away, especially when it’s two brand-new red Ferrari’s colliding headfirst at full speed.

After a moment, Keith clears his throat, throwing my dad one last loathing look before turning to Carter. “Is this true, son?”

“No.”

Carter doesn’t even hesitate. There’s no sort of pregnant pause or moment of contemplation. His answer is quick, curt, and cold. His presence is indifferent and apathetic, looking as if he’s bored by being in our presence. I understand why he said it. Absolutely nothing good can come from even mentioning to his father that we’re anything remotely close to friends. But we are, aren’t we? Maybe that’s why it stings.

But I can’t dwell on that right now. This is not the time or place to analyze why his denial fans the flames of insecurity within me. We’re trying to prevent a slaughter here, so we’ll play their game.

“See, Travis,” Keith says with something akin to triumph. “You’ve always been a liar and a cheat. Let’s see what other brilliant bullshit you can come up with.”

My father bristles. If there’s anything he holds dear to him, it’s not his vapid wife or his trophy son, it’s his pride. His pride that’s always extra fragile and extra bruised when around Keith Everett. He steps close to Keith, closer than he legally should, and sneers in his face. “Just wait and see what I have in store for you, Everett. You’ll wish you chose your words more carefully.”

A cold sweat blooms on my hairline when my father subtly glances at me. There’s something in that stare that rings like a warning bell. I don’t like whatever he’s implying. I don’t like the situation I’m currently in. I don’t like that the room seems to close in on me and that my back starts to sweat. Luckily, a little bit more air is let into my lungs when the Everetts—Carter in tow—walk away from us. I know my dad is probably both pissed and pleased that he got the last word. I swear it’s like he enjoys riling up Keith Everett just for his personal amusement.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, then furiously snatches two glasses of champagne from one of the passing waiters. He hands one to my mother before cursing. “Those fucking snakes—”

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask him, stuffing my hands into my pockets for lack of anything better to do. “I know you didn’t come all the way here just to bitch about Keith.”

“Since when do you care?” Father asks, shaking his head at me as he takes a long swig of his drink. “Are you getting soft on me, Ozymandias?”

“What?” I sputter, shaking my head at his angry tone. “No, I just—”

“You just what?” he snaps, looking like he’s going to crush the glass in his hand. “You know there is no such thing as mercy and there is no such thing as restraint. Have you been getting close to Carter?”

I nod. “I have.”

“And he said no,” he says with a snort. “And that boy is a liar just like his father.”

Without thinking, I snap. A rush of something fiery and possessive rushes through me before I can think better of it. “He’s not—”

“He’s not what?” he interrupts. He squints at me, looking for something so imperceptible. It’s the ruthless eyes I’ve grown up emulating, two deep blue abysses that are meant to drag you into a pit of self-consciousness and self-loathing. He takes a step back, raising his eyebrows as if he finds his own cruelty amusing. “Don’t tell me you actually like him now?”

The truth is on the tip of my tongue. The truth that Carter isn’t actually that bad, that I like spending time with him, and that guilt is starting to blossom in my gut are so close to being released.

What would he say if I just wanted to know the truth about my assignment? What would he say if I wanted to stop? Would he take that at face value and relent, find some other way to conduct his most-likely-nefarious plan, or would he see it as a sign of weakness?

Weakness is not tolerated by apex predators.

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