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I think about next year. About the fact I’ll be at Saints Cross U while she’s still here without me watching her back. Sure, I’ll task the next Heirs to keep a very close eye on her. And as much as I hate to think it, Raine will still be here. I might not be overly happy about their friendship, but something tells me that Raine would throw a punch or two if anyone disrespected my little sister.
I shift in my seat as the image of Raine taking down some horny little fucker who wants a chance with my sister takes root in my brain.
Fuck, that would be so fucking hot.
Millie’s curious stare burns into the side of my face and I internally cringe.I should not be getting hard while my sister is sitting in my passenger seat.
Then maybe you shouldn’t have stormed off last night like an angry bellend and instead tried to fuck the truth out of Raine.
My grip on the wheel tightens.“We’ll have dinner, then we’ll be gone,” I promise, aware that spending time in this house is something akin to Millie sticking forks into her eyes.
“It’ll be fine,” she mutters sadly.
“We’ll see.”
Dread sits heavy in my stomach as I pull up in front of the colossal house.It’s huge. Almost too big. But Anthony Ashworth needs to show the world just how much money he has and how important he is. It’s pretentious and obnoxious.
All the things Raine accuses you of being…
Slamming that thought down, I kill the engine and let out a pained sigh as the two of us stare up at the house.
“What kind of mood was he in when you spoke?” Millie asks, wanting to walk through the front door prepared for what is waiting on the other side.
“Normal.”
She snorts. “Liar. Nothing about him is normal.”
“True, but he didn’t sound angry. Not yet at least.”
“Please try to keep a lid on it,” she begs, aware that I’m often the one who pushes Dad over the edge.
“I’ll see what I can do. Ready?”
“Never,” she replies sadly before throwing the door open and stepping out.
Following her, I step beside her and together we walk toward the front door. Her in her demure knee-length high-necked deep red dress and me in dress trousers and a shirt. Anyone would think we were going somewhere fancy to celebrate something. Not just to the parentals for a Sunday roast.
Sucking in a deep breath, I twist the handle, open the door and walk into hell.
* * *
Silence ripples around the formal dining room where we’re eating.
The table has been laid as if the King himself is coming. All the best china and crystal is out, and there is some kind of irritating classical music twinkling in the background.
Spearing a piece of, what to me, looks like a perfectly cooked piece of roast beef with my fork, I push it past my lips as the air continues to crackle with awkwardness.I chew, barely tasting it as I watch Millie opposite me push her own meal around her plate with a downtrodden expression on her face.
I hate it.
I hate that he barely pays her any attention.
She’s his child too. And just because she was born with a vagina, it doesn’t make her any less of a child. So what she’ll never be and Heir or a Scion? She’s still an Ashworth. She’s still worthy of his attention.
Millie is fucking epic. He should be proud to be able to call her his.
“This beef is overcooked,” the man in question barks, cutting through the oppressive silence as he pokes his slices of meat with his lip curled back in disgust.
“It was cooked for the exact time for how you like it, Anthony,” Maria says, her voice small and terrified for what might come back.
