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I don’t care what gets posted on social media—provided it’s nothing that will negatively impact the image of the future President of the United States.
I don’t even care if anyone is having a good time.
Nobody cares if I am.
My mother sent a text this morning to cancel our lunch plans. Originally, I was to join her and my father in New York at whatever restaurant she had chosen, but instead, my father has a meeting in D.C. that he can’t possibly miss.
At least I managed to escape that round of torture. Not least because I still haven’t disposed of Tori, like I was supposed to.
I’m not sure why I let Gemini convince me to let her stay longer. I suppose it’s giving her some false hope. Fucking idiot—does she really think she’s got a chance of passing her initiation?
If it wasn’t for this party, I’d hold the Inauguration Ceremony tonight and formally reject her in front of everyone. Not that I need to do that—I can kick her out of this house as easily as I allowed her in.
But the reason I let her come here, and the reason I let her become an initiate, hasn’t changed. I want her and her brother to feel the same soul crippling pain I do, and so far, I don’t think either have even come close to that.
There’s only one more week before finals. My father may have told me to get rid of her, but he didn’t say when. Sticking with my original timeframe makes more sense. It gives me more time to ensure that I properly destroy her.
If only I can come up with something spectacular for my finishing move.
Growing up, my father taught me the importance of being ruthless. Of finding a weakness and exploiting it. Age isn’t a restriction when it comes to hurting someone, and over the years, I know I’ve been able to ruin anyone who has gotten in my way.
So why the fuck am I struggling to come up with something fitting now?
“Cheer up, you miserable fucker,” Gemini says, thrusting a glass of whiskey towards me. “I’ve got a birthday surprise waiting for you in the Crypt.”
The church is packed tonight, and instead of DJing from the altar, the DJ has been relocated to the balcony above. Even from up there, the DJ is doing his thing, and has made sure the dance floor is only a couple more shots of liquor away from a writhing orgy.
Gifts are piled up on the altar behind me, though I’ve made no attempt to look at them. But if the surprise is already in the Crypt, that means Gemini’s gift is special.
Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward, spotting Tori lingering to the side. She’s wearing a silver dress that sparkles under the lights, clinging in all the right places. She could do with a couple more inches on her tits, but that dress looks good on her.
Then again, the dress was made with her measurements, so it’s more like the dress is making her look good…
“I found you some homeless guy who is ex-military,” Royal tells me as he steps into my line of site, narrowing his eyes. “But maybe we made the wrong call, and you’d rather fuck instead of fight.”
“Looking at her has the same effect as being castrated.”
“Speaking of flaccid dicks…” Gemini says, elbowing me.
Looking over Royal’s shoulder, I see Preston du Pont making a beeline towards me. All Elite parties have a standing invitation to all members—including those who have graduated—even if they never attend. Only this is my birthday party, not an Elite event…
“Happy birthday, Synclair,” Preston declares loudly over the music as he shakes my hand.
With a name like Preston du Pont, the guy should be small and weedy. The kind of guy who looks like an accountant with a British accent. Only, Preston is conventionally attractive enough that most of the women he’s walked past to get to me have turned their heads and are still staring at him.
“How long are you staying?” Gemini asks him.
Preston steps back, scanning the dark church as he shrugs. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Cool. I’m going to find some coke.” Gemini walks straight past us without looking back.
“Coke?” Preston arches an eyebrow like he’s never snorted a line before. “He graduates next year. He needs to be cutting back.”
“Was it party favors that brought you here?” I ask him.
“Just popping in to see how things are going,” Preston tells me. “Which is disappointingly as expected.” He looks at Tori and then beckons her over before I can stop him. “Champagne.”
Tori cocks her head, her blue hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall. “Excuse me?”
