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Chapter Twelve
Cora
A herd of men nearly take out the door as they push in all at once. My last forkful of noodles plops back into their styrofoam cup, splashing broth up onto my hand.
"You're still here," Jag's declaration rushes out in a breath that sounds curiously like relief— which makes no sense to me. As far as I'm aware they'd prefer I throw the towel in and vacate the premises.
"Uh, yeah. Where else would I be?" My expression says it all— he's an idiot. While I wait for him to tell me where I could have possibly gone, my tongue catches the drops on the back of hand. Lifting my eyes at the prolonged silence, I find the idiot has multiplied by five, and they're all staring at me. "What the heck is wrong with you all? I won't eat on the couch if it's going to cause more problems. I'm sure it's seen worse than a ramen noodle or two… Oh, yuck, I sat on it." Lurching to my feet, I'm quickly reminded by my abused muscles to slow down.
"Wait, we just want to talk— clear the air." I pause next to the couch and eye Drake suspiciously, clutching my cup in front of my body. They try anything funny, and someone is getting forked.
As if he senses my thoughts— and that he'd be the first to get stabbed, Blaise extends a hand. "I can take that for you if you'd like."
I back away, not trusting his overture. "I'm not finished yet. And did you have a stroke? You're not nice."
Blaise's lips settle into a straight, firm line as his pupils flare in annoyance and something else I'm sure isn't meant for me. "I can be nice, Cora. I just rarely have reason to be." Nope, he has to be on something.
My feet shuffle backward, easing toward my bedroom door. Something has changed, and I'm not up to finding out what it is—there's zero chance we went from duking it out to… attraction? It's a prank. The thought makes my belly clench in trepidation as horror stories and movie plots about screwing with "the girl" run through my head. I should have expected a move like this.
Blunt and to the point, I ask, "What's your game, Blaise?"
He shrugs, glancing at Jaeger before answering. "Maybe I had a change of heart? You seem to be more broken than I thought...I prefer my adversaries to be in working order. It's not as fun playing with broken toys."
A frisson of fear coasts down my spine— that sounds more in tune with his personality. Jag scowls at Blaise, shaking his head, and tries to smooth over the situation.
"Cora, you've had a shitty time for a year now, and despite the animosity between you and Blaise, we have a vested interest in making sure you do well and complete the contract.” Jag pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a groan escape. “You know, it’s impossible to talk to you with the recent history hovering over us, waiting to turn any conversation into a battleground. You know there’s a contract, and we know as well. Because of the part we played, the Board of Directors, Damien’s father, and the attorneys have decided the five of us will get you through school, and then we can all go back to our lives. You signed the papers saying you’d comply, so either work with us, or leave and take your chances starting over.”
By now Jag has his arms crossed over his chest, and the others are staring at him like he’s lost his ever-loving mind. I know there’s more to it than what he said, me leaving the school has never been on the agenda for anyone, but if the board is holding something over them to make them my keepers, then I plan to use it to my advantage.
Surprising the hell out of them all, I nod. “Sure, whatever you say, big brother. But housekeeping needs to shampoo the furniture. I’m not sitting in God knows whose snail trail.” Ash chokes a bit, and I’m not sure if it’s at the ‘bro’ or the leavings from their cum dumpsters, but I decide to test my newfound power. “What’s wrong, Daddy? I thought you all were about keeping it in the family?”
Seriously, with the way the upper echelon of our community intermingles, I wouldn’t doubt there’s some incest going on. Just take Damien and Drake for example, rumors are that Damien Sr. is actually Drake’s father after having an affair with his half-sister that was a by-blow of his father by his mistress. But it didn’t come out until Drake was a little kid, and his mom still refused to say who the sperm donor was. Shortly after, she got some mysterious illness, and Drake went to live with Damien. Last I knew, his mom was in a facility-- comatose. And doesn't that sound familiar? It makes me wonder if I can find out if she had any marks on her like the guys and Kael have.
Ash and Jag interrupt my dot connecting revelation, bitching about my manner of address. While Ash mutters unintelligibly, Jag lays into me.
"Cora, you have to stop with the names. It's just too weird. If you remember correctly, before Damien, and even before you and Ash had a thing, our parents had hoped we might hit it off." My mouth gapes at Jag,not remembering things in quite that same manner. All thoughts of the similarities between Drake's mom and Kael flee from my mind.
"What in the actual fuck are you talking about Jag? That was never a thing."
A black brow raises above a deep blue eye. "I distinctly remember my father mentioning it when they married."
My incredulity is boundless. "You hear how fucked up that is coming out of your mouth, right? Our parents got together, so we would hook up? Who does that? I'm sure there's a name for that depth of depravity. Besides, they had a hissy when I wouldn't consider Damien as dating material. And what about Ash? You all knew we were together, granted, it wasn't very long, but no one kicked up a fuss over it."
I could definitely see my mom going along with something like that. She’d started acting odd, caring less and less about what I was doing as long as I behaved. Then a few months later, she had a quiet ceremony while I was at school, and I came home to Jag and his dad, Richard, carrying boxes into our house from a moving van. Aside from that, so much just doesn't add up.
I stare from one to another of the bunch spread out in front of me— and none of them seem a bit surprised. Except Jag.
"Your mom really never discussed any of it with you?" His eyebrows dip together, the worry apparent in his gaze.
"No, she didn't. Mom never discussed much of anything with me. Even down to having to find out what to do for my period from the school nurse," I spit out, exasperated. "Then your dad happened, and you know the rest. I kept my grades up, did my chores, and stayed off her radar. The most interest I got was when she caught me puking my guts up before school one day." The memories are still raw enough that I desperately want to change the subject. "Can we pretend this conversation never happened and move on to dealing with whatever needs to be addressed so we annoy each other the least amount for the next few years?" Jag nods, but something feels really off with him.
