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“And what about thejournal?” He whispers, his stoned eyes flaring with panic,
“I’m handling it,” I mumble, jaw clenching.
“Kal -” Jayson hisses, “I’m not one for scolding but that journal is pretty fucking important. You know, considering it has all our empire's dirty secrets.” Jayson laughs again but it doesn't reach his aqua eyes.
No shit Sherlock the journal was important. But I was handling it.
Blondie was practically under my thumb. It would only be a matter of time before she gave me whatever I wanted.
So what if my heart threatened to implode in my chest at the thought of using her?
“I'm. Handing. It.” I spit before reaching for another blunt and lighting it.
“Ok fine you're handling it. Whatever you say boss” Jayson says “boss” with air quotes and I flip him off as he takes a swig of his beer.
I’m about to give the blonde god a piece of my mind when his eyes widen and he spews his beer across the counter.
“Oh shit.” Jayson mumbles and I don't even bother to turn around. I already know which prick decided to crash my party.
I’ll give him one thing Daddy dearest always did know how to make an entrance.
Unfortunately, I was especially not in the mood for this particular brand of crap.
The whole club turns quiet as my father's long legs eat up the space between the doorway and the bar, his dark eyes focused on me, promising pain and torture and all the usual things on the menu he was so good at dishing out.
“Well, well what do we have here?” His voice echoes in the space, and I swear to god you could hear a pin drop in the silence that remains,
“A party I wasn't invited to?” His words are vinegar and I have to force myself to not physically recoil,
“And in my own house no less.” His name might be on the deed but we all knew whose house this really was.
Mine.
What an arrogant prick. Walking in here like I would bother to give him the time of day. Like it's my fault he can no longer read the numbers on his Rolex with his old ass eyes.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as his pupils singe mine, leaving me staring at the devil behind the suit.
“Everyone. Out.” My father growls and the room stills in shock, waiting for me to say something. To deny him, but I stay quiet.
“Now.'' The threat is like a bomb denotation and I watch as everyone scrambles to their feet, running towards the exit like their life depends on it. Perhaps it did. You never knew with one of my father's moods.
Jayson remains by my side, the only one who’s bothered to stay. It was just the three of us now. My father, Jayson, and I. A little three musketeers trio for the books. How poetic.
“You too surfer boy.” My father directs the words towards Jayson but doesn’t peel his eyes from mine.
What was this some sort of fucked up staring contest?
Whatever it was, I wasn't going to let him win. Not over my dead body. That man was done taking things from me.
“Nope.” Jayson replies, popping the “p”, “I don't think so daddy dearest. I’m staying right here.”
My father quirks a brow at me and I wave my hands, showing Jayson off. A frown crumples the blonde god's face but he doesn't argue as he makes his way out of the club. No doubt to eavesdrop from just outside the door.
“What do you want?” I ask, my tone bored as I take another drag from my blunt before puffing out the smoke in perfect “o” shaped rings. The smoke kisses my father's face, and he waves his hands in annoyance, anger darkening his face.
“I think the better question is what do I know?” He smiles then, a deadly little quirk of the lips, and the sight immediately sets me on edge.
That stupid look meant he was going to take something of mine.
