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He was never the type of dad who screamed or shouted at us. Whenever we did something wrong, he would talk to us, but it was by the tone of his voice that told you if he was angry, disappointed or upset, or even happy. Mom seemed to rise to the challenge as she squared her shoulders. I exchanged a look with Delaney as we both cringed, wanting to disappear.
“It’s been in the works for a while if you must know,” she huffed out, like explaining herself was an annoying inconvenience. “Eva—”That’s Adam’s mom, the Mayor’s wife“—and I spoke about it earlier in the year. And now Milla is back home where she belongs. It’s time for everybody to celebrate the holidays just as the legacies before us did.”She’s still salty about me leaving, old news, Mom.
There were a handful of legacy families within East Bay; The Wests, The Rossis, The Penns, The Lowells, The Davis’. There were a few other families, but years ago they moved away, starting over in completely new states for their own reasons.
It was the legacies whose businesses kept the whole community thriving, enabling job opportunities. We owned East Bay, and that wasn’t being pretentious. The types of businesses our parents ran were those in a position of power, that some used for corruption and greed rather than for the better. But it had linked them through the family history and the stature they harnessed within East Bay.
I’d heard stories of some generations being close, others being cold blooded enemies. Our parents’ generation seemed to get on fairly well, some more than others. My dad’s family was the legacy side as mom married in, and he kept his distance, only showing up to the meetups that were essential. He stayed in his own lane, running his businesses without tangling himself up further with the other current leaders. And even though he had no idea about my situation, I was eternally grateful that he seemed to dislike certain people within those families.
“Really?” Dad scoffed, standing from the table, throwing his napkin down. “Did you think to consider your husband or your daughters in this? That we may have preferred to be at home, as a family together for the first time in years just us four, instead of prancing round and forced to talk business and unnecessary issues on a holiday? You think that’s how I want to spend my time off from work?” He shook his head, disappointment evident, and I didn’t blame him.
He worked and provided, while she happily swiped his credit cards at every available shop and spa facility. Mom wasn’t awful, but she didn’t have her priorities screwed on right for a parent, in my opinion. She slotted in well to the high society scene, playing her part beautifully and being the perfect trophy wife. It made me wonder what Dad saw in her all those years ago to make him marry her, because I couldn’t see him being in love with someone as shallow as she presented herself these days. They began volleying words back and forth as I tuned them out.
My phone vibrated in my pocket; I took it as the distraction it was and excused myself. Delaney followed my lead and we exited the kitchen, making our way to the living room. I sank into one of the couches, taking out my phone, keying in the passcode to open the message.
Preston: What are you doing?
The same question I asked him earlier. I worked my teeth over my lower lip, wondering whether I should reply or just ignore him. Ignoring it would be the better option, the safest option—replying would be opening the floodgates and allowing whatever was going on with us to continue. I wanted to be greedy, to be selfish for once, so I tossed my reservations away and thumbed out a reply.
Milla: At my parents. Want to hang out in my dorm later?
Preston: Yeah. I’ll be over around six-ish. I’ll grab us some take out.
Milla: Okay.
“You think we still have to go on Christmas day even though Dad didn’t want to?” Delaney questioned.
“Think so, I’m afraid.” I sighed loudly.
That was one of the few times I’d seen him put his foot down with Mom. But I could guarantee we’d still be going. It was like she had some sort of spell over him. I wrinkled my nose, realising exactly how she’d persuade him.Ew. I didn’t care that I was nineteen. The thought of my parents having sex made me want to throw up. Repeatedly.
I peeled myself from the recliner as the aches from my gym session started to kick in. Leaving my sister, I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs to my designated bedroom.
I despised being here within this room. I peered out the window, catching sight of the pool house in the distance. It was a trigger for memories I tried to avoid. The abuse never happened within the confines of my bedroom. No, that would be too simple for him. He revelled in the fact that I’d blindly trusted him, followed naïvely to the pool house situated at the far end of my home. Out of sight.
Stripping off my sweaty clothing I made my way to the ensuite bathroom and turned the dial up. I gave it a minute before I stepped into the shower. Closing the door after me, I stood under the warm flowing water with my head bent over, letting it ease the aches in my body as I washed myself and my hair. I redressed in fresh underwear as well as shimmying into some tight blue skinny jeans throwing on an oversized mint green t-shirt. I towel dried my hair, allowing it to dry naturally.
Throwing everything back in my bag, I ventured downstairs, shouting out a goodbye as I closed the weighted front door. I slid into the driver’s car and laid my head on the headrest, closing my eyes for a moment as he started our thirty-minute journey back to campus.
* * *
I’d faffed around for a few hours wasting time and before I knew it, there was a knock on my door. Venturing over, I opened it knowing it was Preston. He swaggered in, moving straight past me with a type of energy that just made me stare as I softly closed the door. Leaning against the wall, I watched him pull containers from the plastic bag and go from cupboard to cupboard, finally grabbing a few plates.
“Keep staring, Milla, and this Chinese will be forgotten. I’ll spread you out and feast on you instead,” he bragged, mirth in his voice as he plated up the food.
I jolted myself out of the weird moment I had become locked in, shaking my head as he chuckled. I grabbed my plate and added a few more things before taking it over to the couch, crossing my legs, and laying the plate on top.
“Eating on the couch? You savage,” he drawled, grabbing two cans of lemonade from the fridge. He put them on the coffee table and sat next to me.
“Shut up.” I stuck my tongue out at him before grabbing a piece of prawn toast and taking a bite with my eyes closed, savouring the flavour. It was one of my favourite take out options. “Mmm.”
I opened my eyes as I swallowed the last bite down and looked sideways. Preston’s gaze was hooded, swimming with molten desire. My thighs clenched in relation, and he noticed.Of course he noticed.A self-satisfied smirk spread on his face, but he didn’t say a word as his eyes flitted between his plate of food and me. So much attention, and so many unspoken emotions filtered through his eyes. We finished our food in near silence, with just the sound of the fridge humming softly in the background. The orange hues of the night sky streamed through the windows bathing us in near darkness, coupled with the soft yellow hue of the under-cabinet lights. He collected our plates and put them aside as the tension in the room skyrocketed.
I was on edge. I wanted him.
He pulled his t-shirt over his head one handed, tossing it to the side, and I drank in the sight of Preston before me. The muscles on his chest and biceps flexed with my gaze honed in. I glimpsed down, seeing the dark trail of hair under his belly button that carried on to where I couldn’t see. His hard length strained against his jeans as I bit my bottom lip appreciating this beautiful man standing before me.Fucking hell.
“I shouldn’t want you,” I murmured, not meaning those words to be uttered aloud.
