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That’s a problem to me because why is this a competition in her eyes? What satisfaction does it bring her to be our queen as we attend this academic institution?
There’s history here.
Why the fuck is there anything?
“I’m confident that my attendance was approved with my application to attend Leighton Royals University,” she continues in a matter-of-fact tone. “Was I led astray to think otherwise?”
The question leaves no choice but for everyone to look at my father, who smirks despite the obvious irritation in his brown eyes.
“I must have overlooked it,” he confesses and reaches for his glass of wine. “Leighton Royals University is one of the top three universities in the world when it comes to specialized education to train the elite in our ruthless world.” He has to rub in the immense achievements his institute has accomplished.To cover his bruised ego.
“We have about twenty-five thousand applicants and one-fifth equivalent in the female department who wish to claim the role of maiden and lead into the ultimate position as the Queen of Leighton,” he continues. “I’m rather impressed for an adoptee to manage to impress my son and his pals. This all works out in our favor.” It’s as though he’s saying that last part to appease his doubts.
“Within the time frame, these boys can use you like the toy you are. Do as they wish and get all that pent-up frustration sorted before his arranged destiny is presented to him on a silver platter,” he reveals and nods his head like it’s a job well done. After a sip of his wine, he carries on. “I’m sure with yourpast involving Domino, you can tell he’s not the best in various areas.”
My deep frown is unavoidable, while my eyes show just how upset I am by his words. He doesn’t fucking know me. I’m nothing to him. Only the bloodline I carry is what’s important to him, and he’s now made it very clear that I’m set up to benefit from this unexpected marriage of convenience to satisfy the deal he made with the Prescott Empire.
Yet he’s embarrassing me in front of those who will whisper within these walls, yearning for the word to spread until everyone within and outside this empire gets word of the weak, fragile heir.
“I disapprove of your comment.” I’m shocked by her words that come out with a hint of passion. “Villains aren’t meant to be perfect. Bullies aren’t created to reveal all their traits. Jokers most certainly don’t act as intelligent as they are. I can give plenty of examples.”
She pauses in an attempt to eat anything else on her almost untouched plate to reach out for her wine. She allows her statement to linger as she slowly takes a sip. I’m not the only one zeroing in on how her red lipstick stains the edge of the glass.
As if to leave her mark.
“Do I despise your son? Yes, I always will. Down to my fucking core. Am I frightened of what is in store for me? Maybe. I haven’t had a moment of grace to determine such pitiful emotions,” she confesses. “However, I’ve heard all about the Ruthless Kings of Carnage. Their sinister crimes within and outside of the walls of Leighton Royals University. One doesn’t need to be a student to hear the rumors that trend within alleyways and dark spaces. Needless to say, to achieve that status, you have to be a group of sick bastards ready to do anything to secure such a validating place in our sinister hierarchy.”
The void of emotion when my eyes meet her gaze leaves me uneasy. Troubled and further annoyed by the lack of ardent. Drugged up or not, it strikes a dangerous chord inside me.
Something I’m beginning to realize isn’t what turns me on.
I thrive on her despise for me. The constant hate or heartache those mesmerizing eyes of hers reflect. Whether dancing with fury, anguish, or glassy with teary emotion. All those various emotive projections are what keep me motivated to do everything to hurt her.
Now, she’s playing a game I don’t want to participate in.
As if she’s the one in control of the scenario.
It’s time I changed that.
“You speak as if you fucking know who founded the Ruthless Kings,” I growl as my scowl only grows.
Instead of taking the reins of the situation with my question, I watch how she seductively smirks. Her eyes slowly trail over to the head of the table.
My father is sipping more of his wine, but he meets her gaze head-on, the two of them sharing a look as if they’re ready to ignite a war among one another.
“That would be obvious,” Father declares, and he smiles with pride while slowly leaning back into his seat. “I did.”
What?
The pin-drop silence makes him chuckle before he lowers his glass.
“That’s all you’ll get from me, Miss Prescott. I’ll admit, for a decoy of sorts, you’re cunning. I wonder if you got that from one of your parents?” He says in mockery. “Doesn’t matter. A pet is but that. A distraction from the fucked-up world we live in. I’m confident my son and his pals will make use of your qualities, but I have to admit, I don’t think they’re up for it.”
“What makes you say that?” Ares speaks up. His eyes don’t show the hardness in his voice. He doesn’t like how this conversation has played out.
Neither do I.
Let alone being around an audience who doesn’t deserve to listen to our private matters.
