Page 5 of Good Boy

As the elevator doors peeled back, I crossed the threshold into my penthouse, my blood running like molten lava through my veins at the sheer thought of leaving the place I’ve called home for the past two years. With a forceful swallow working my throat, I filled a glass with cool water before retreating to my bedroom. Time to face the demons of my past once more.

I shoved clothes haphazardly into my duffel bag, not bothering to fold anything. What did it matter how wrinkled my shit was? It's not like I was trying to make a good impression.

The faster I got this over with, the faster I could get the hell out of there.

After zipping up my bag, I did a quick sweep of the penthouse to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything important. My gaze snagged on the baggie of coke left on the coffee table, and I hesitated. It might make the next few days more bearable, but the old man had a way of sniffing that shit out.

With a growl, I grabbed the baggie and flushed the contents down the toilet. No point risking trouble before I even set foot in that mausoleum of a fucking house.

By the time I made it downstairs, a sleek black town car was idling at the curb. The driver stepped out and grabbed my bag without a word, stowing it in the trunk before opening the back door in a silent invitation.

I slid onto the leather interior, the familiar scent of wealth and privilege assaulting my senses. This was a world I'd left behind long ago, yet here I was, being dragged back into its gilded cage, like shackles returning to ensnare me once more.

As the car pulled smoothly into traffic, I stared out the tinted window at the city that had been my home for the past two years. Chicago had given me freedom, and now I was trading it for a luxurious prison. The driver didn't speak, not that I expected him to. He was probably some ex-military hard-ass my grandfather had personally vetted. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, my fingers tapping out a restless beat against my thigh.

A private three hour flight, and ninety minute drive later, we turned onto the winding gravel drive leading to the Brookside estate. My heart kicked into double time, palms dampening. I hadn't been back here since my father's funeral, and the memories were a tangled mess of grief and anger.

When the house came into view, imposing stone walls and mullioned windows, I swallowed hard.

The driver opened my door, and I climbed out on unsteady legs. Before I could grab my bag, the massive oak front doors creaked open. My uncle Cole stood there, arms crossed over his chest.

"Darius." His mouth thinned into a disapproving line as he took in my tattoos. "You're late."

"Traffic," I said with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Things will be different now that you're home." His eyes were flinty. "Your grandfather is waiting in the study."

Home.I barely choked back a laugh. This was a prison, not a home. But I straightened my shoulders and walked past him into the mausoleum that had haunted my dreams.

Time to face the devil himself.

The first thing that struck me as I entered the foyer was the oppressive stillness of the house. It clogged my nostrils like a thick fog, and I could almost feel the weight of it pressing down on me. The same marble floors I’d run across as a child were still here, but they seemed duller, grayer than before. I followed my uncle’s lead down the hallway to my grandfather’s study, memories flooding back with each step. As we paused outside the dark mahogany doors, fear coiled in my gut like an angry serpent. This was where my father had always gone when he needed advice or guidance—seeking wisdom from his own father. But now he was gone forever, and all that remained was an empty room filled with ghostly echoes of our shared pasts.

Cole opened the door, a creak crying from the hinges as I walked into the room. He cleared his throat, then closed the door behind me, leaving me alone in a silent show of respect.Fuck.At first glance, nothing had changed since I’d last been here. Heavy velvet curtains hung from tall arched windows, a massive hearth dominated one wall, and a large sepia desk stood at attention in front of them all. The room was silent, too silent, as if my shit uncle guided me into an empty room. I turned on my heel toward the door, determined to raise hell, but then I heard it—a soft rasp of breath.

His brittle-boned body shuffled from around the dark corner in front of me. I eyed his sloth-like movements, pissed at myself that someone so fucking frail held so much power still. But the old bastard’s bite was far worse than his bark. He spoke truthfully, but his words had an insidious sting that cut deeper than the sharpest blade, and he always delivered on his promises.

“Darius,” he said, the word rough.

He found his throne and took a seat in the high-backed chair behind his desk. His skin was wrinkled and thin, like parchment paper, but there was still a sharpness in his gaze that made me feel as if he could see right through me.

“Yeah, old man.” I shifted my weight and folded my arms across my chest.

He gestured for me to take a seat opposite him, and I did so reluctantly, feeling like an errant child about to be scolded.

“I hope your travels were well.”

“Cut the shit,” I deadpanned and dug into the back pocket of my jeans.

I secretly hoped his tongue was stronger than his lungs as I lit the cig and blew the drag toward his withering face.

He smirked, and then his expression grew somber.

“It’s time for you to understand what it means to be a part of this family. You are my blood, and I’ve been watching your progress from afar. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement.”

Here we go.He continued on a long rant about the family name, his fucking name, and how hard he’d worked to get to mean something. All of it went in one ear and out the other. The only thing running through my mind were last night’s shenanigans and how I wished I made Blue Hair suck my cock. That pretty little mouth. What a waste.

“If you want your inheritance, then you must honor your last name, and actually do some work to earn the money that’s coming.”

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