Page 3 of Spin the Damn Bottle

We spend Christmas Day as we always do in my family: my parents and I visit Lucas and Uncle Lucius’s house in the Hamptons. They also have a penthouse in the city, but I think they purposely drag us out to the holiday home so that my father doesn’t run back to his restaurant in the middle of the day. It’s open, unlike everything else in the city, but my mother makes him take that one day off.

We exchange silly presents—the family tradition is to never spend more than fifty bucks per person. I think Uncle Lucius implemented it to make sure Dad doesn’t feel left out, when he’s unable to match his budget. My haul includes a pretty sketchbook, paintbrushes, a new phone case, and a makeup bag that surely pushed past the fifty, but Dad doesn’t need to know that, and no one else cares.

I’m surprised, after we’ve all unwrapped our presents, when Lucas tosses me a small square box wrapped in black silky paper, and adorned with a red bow.

He’s waited until we’re alone, cleaning up the dishes, which is in itself rather odd. “What’s that?”

“None of my business, that’s what it is. Unless he’s a problem. Then it will very much become my business.” He holds my gaze meaningfully, and my heart skips a beat.

I know who the package is from.

Part of me wants to run to my bedroom and open it alone, away from Lucas’s curious eyes, but I shrug nonchalantly and open the box. Inside, rests a platinum band adorned with a letter studded in diamonds. H. Which could be odd, given the fact that my name is Nadia Reyes. Not an H to be seen. But I’ve seen that letter before, on top of a digital contract I had to sign. It’s also plastered on the front of an imposing Upper East Side building, belonging to one of the world’s most exclusive clubs. The Heritage.

There’s no note in sight, but I don’t need one to be certain of the provenence.

I need to murder the kaleidoscope of butterflies suddenly dancing inside me for good.

On New Year’s Eve, exactly at midnight, I finally hear from him.

Jason: Be ready.

That's it, just two words.

I don't reply, butI analyze them over and over again over the next few days. By the time school starts again, I'm uneasy. Whatever he's planning? I doubt I'm anywhere near prepared for Jason Alden.

CHAPTER THREE

I smile at the girl seated opposite me in the limo like I’m not meticulously planning to break her.

It’s not about her. The poor thing doesn’t have any inkling as to why her life is about to become a living nightmare. She, as far as she’s concerned, has done nothing wrong.

The fucking idiot is elated I’m taking her to the New Year’s Eve party thrown by the Heritage. She knows about us—her family’s worked for us for two generations. Her cousin even became a blossom a couple of years ago, joining our ranks. Marie Vaughn hopes to follow in her footsteps.

“You have the longest legs.” I tilt my head. “I’d love to see more of them.”

She’s quick to lift the fake velvet up, while sending me a pout that’s supposed to be sexy, I guess. My dick is completely comatose. Thankfully, I’m not alone, or I’d fuck up this operation.

Cain stops kissing Melina long enough to say, “Spread them for me, darling. I want to see your lovely little cunt.”

Marie’s too happy to oblige. She would have made a good addition to the Heritage, eager to please in order to get what she wants out of life. She’s tall, tanned, athletic and not entirely stupid, though her choices belie that. In another world, she would have ended up attending an Ivy League school of her choosing, opening her own art gallery, eventually marrying one of us.

Too bad for her, she chose the wrong side.

I don’t plan on punishing anyone who pushed Nadia when I asked them to. They were good little sycophants, following my directives without question. But I’d informed the school of a cease-fire, and she fucked with Nadia nonetheless, in a big way. The only way that truly bothered her. She destroyed Nadia’s art.

That meant one thing for someone like Marie—she’s a follower. She wouldn’t dare move a toe out of line without permission, especially againstme. Someone told her to keep bullying Nadia. Someone she believes has enough power to protect her.

Even from me.

I don’t know why she was dumb enough to accept my invitation today. Maybe Nadia’s absence empowered her. It is useful in many ways. I could start to lay the foundation for the necessary changes at Cross. With Nadia by my side, my reach would have been limited. I understand men who prefer to make their way into the world without a partner for that reason alone. Making people believe they have a chance of earning a place by my side has always been useful. America works on fantasies, on daydreams. Women behave more predictably if they’re vying for the ultimate prize: the wealthiest, most powerful guy around. The king.

Marie’s one among thousands of hopeful souls. She and the others like her never had a chance. If it weren’t for Nadia, I would have followed the predictable course, fucking around for a while before marrying Yuki Moore as my parents want me to. And then fucking around while being married to Yuki, with her and behind her back. Our arrangement would have been cold and emotionless, but it would have worked out. Most parents I know are bound in similar dynamics.

Andrey Moore isn’t stupid. He knows his daughter’s smart, efficient, and cunning. He also knows no one will take her seriously at the head of his empire, because she happens to have a cunt rather than a cock. Yuki needs a suitable husband to appear at her arm, although she’ll likely be the head of Moore and Moore all the same. I understand it, and I was willing to play the part, because joining our legacies seemed like a logical step.

Except I’d rather not be a miserable asshole for the rest of my life, and I know that a marriage to Yuki leads to no emotional support. A cold, sterile partner, not dissimilar to myself, would mean sleeping alone every night, never bothering to have a conversation about my day. I’d be richer, so there’s that. Yuki wouldn’t care how many pussies I fuck every night. She’d require I sire a couple of kids and then ignore the rest of my affairs so long as I extend the same courtesy. Hell, she’d even let me keep Nadia as a mistress if I pushed.

I don’t want that. I don’t want to become my father. He might be fulfilled in many ways, but he can’t hide what I see in his eyes.