Page 62 of F*ckboys

"Get a grip, Fallon," I tell myself, shaking my head in an attempt to dispel the dangerous thoughts. "You're here for revenge, not a fucking love story."

But even as I speak the words, I know they ring hollow. The truth is, no matter how much I deny it, there's a part of me that longs for more than just vengeance. A part of me craves forgiveness, redemption, and yes—maybe even love.

"Shit," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own pounding heart. As I continue to drive through the darkstreets, the weight of my complicated emotions settles heavily on my shoulders, leaving me with one undeniable fact: I may have found momentary satisfaction in Aksel's arms, but this twisted game we're playing is far from over.

Chapter 32

Fallon

The chandelier's cold light casts fractured shadows across the grand dining hall, as if foreshadowing the growing fractures in our own family. As usual, we're gathered around the long mahogany table, dressed up for just another one of our ostentatious weekly family dinners, and the tension hangs thick in the air like a noose waiting to be tightened.

"Pass the gravy, please," my father murmurs, his voice barely audible over the clinking of silverware.

"Of course," I reply, my tone curt, handing him the white ceramic vessel. My gaze darts to Link, who sits at the opposite end of the table, his eyes hooded with a darkness that sends a shiver down my spine. This is the first time I've seen him since I found out he's been watching me-–following me, or at leasthired people to do it. Always jealous since we were children, for whatever reason, his envy has grown into a sinister serpent, ready to strike at any moment. But he doesn't know I know the full extent he's gone to. He thinks I'm an oblivious idiot. And I intend to have him think that until I'm ready for the big reveal.

"Fallon, dear, how's your company doing?" Zara asks, my stepmother's voice dripping with feigned interest. She's a great actress when she can be bothered. In fact, I almost give her kudos for not referring to it as my 'little company' or 'charming small business' or one of the little disparaging remarks she usually makes. "I read an article about a serial killer who terrorized women on one of those dating apps, and now companies are being sued by the families of the victims. Isn't that wild? I hope you have some excellent liability insurance." There we go. I knew she couldn't resist.

"Business is booming," I respond with a tight smile, my focus never wavering from Link's brooding form. "It seems that people can't get enough of feeling empowered." I refuse to get into a defensive position where I'm once again explaining to the room that I don't run a dating app or even a dating service. I'll let them construct their own narrative.

"Ah, well, it's good to see you succeeding," Zara says, though the malice in her eyes betrays her true feelings. I don't know why she's always been so irritated by me. Maybe because I'm the only other woman in her little 'family' bubble.

"Thank you, Zara. Your support means so much to me," I say, my words laced with sarcasm.

"Speaking of support, Fallon," Link interjects, his voice smooth but icy. "I've been hearing some... interesting rumors about your business practices."

The table falls silent, all eyes turning to me. I feel the heat of their gazes, invasive and judgmental, searing into my soul.

I'm so glad Grave gave me a heads up, but still, my stomach flip-flops as my mind races to think of what he might be talking about. "Really, Link? Do tell," I challenge, refusing to let him undermine me.

"Word on the street is that your success hasn't come without its fair share of... underhanded deals… or let's say, special operations?" he says, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Sounds like you've been listening to the wrong people," I retort, my heart pounding in my chest. I can't tell if he's bluffing or if his private investigators have already been able to find out more about our revenge ops business arm.

"Perhaps," Link concedes, but his eyes gleam with malicious intent. "But wouldn't it be wise for your family to look out for you, especially if those rumors turn out to be true?"

I can see he has my father's attention, and I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

"Link, are you suggesting that you've been spying on me?" I hiss, my anger flaring like a wild inferno.

"Of course not, Fallon." He leans back in his chair, the picture of smug satisfaction. "Public information spreads like wildfire around here. Just looking out for my dear sister."

"Enough!" Cheston interjects, his voice commanding. "This isn't the time or place for accusations. We're here to have a nice family meal and catch up on a personal level."

"Agreed," Zara adds, her eyes darting between us warily, likely relieved at the opportunity to get the attention back on her. "Let's just enjoy the dinner and each other's company."

"Fine," I grit out, my gaze never leaving Link's. The serpent has slithered into the light, but I refuse to let it sink its venomous fangs into me.

"Cheers to that," Link replies, raising his wine glass mockingly. His eyes meet mine, dark and vengeful, promising a battle yet to come.

And in this moment, I know that nothing will ever be the same between us. The bonds that once held our family together are corroding, eaten away by the toxin of jealousy. Dad seems oblivious, but the toxicity between Link and I is festering, as well as between me and Zara. Cheston plays mediator, but the guys always ultimately end up banding together. I thought things would mellow out as we matured, but they're only getting worse.

As we finish up our meal together under the chandelier's cold light, I can't help but wonder if there's any hope left for the Dempseys. Or at least a version of the Dempseys where I truly feel like I belong.

After dinner, despite wanting nothing more than to run away, I find myself in the living room with Cheston and Link. I'm feeling confrontational, a little emboldened by the wine that flowed freely during dinner, and I feel the need to say something in this more intimate setting.

"Would either of you care for more wine?" Cheston's voice cuts through the silence like a lifeline, his eyes darting between Link and me, searching for a way to mend what's already fraying at the seams.

"Thank you, Cheston," I say, my words clipped, as I offer him my empty glass. He pours the deep red liquid with steady hands, but I can see the worry etched on his face. He's trying so hard to keep our world from unraveling, to keep Link and I from saying or doing something truly irreparable, but some things are simply beyond repair.

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