Chapter 15

Wynand I are standing in her tiny shared bathroom, standing over three separate pregnancy tests, using the flashlights on our phones to analyze them.

“Is that a line?” Wyn asks, her nose practically pressed against the result window. She points to something that looks like a shadow. “Right here. See it?”

My heart is in my throat as I pick the test up and bring it to my face, angling it to see if I can catch the alleged line in the light. There is a very faint, barely-there line. “I see it,” I say past the bile rising in my throat. Why does it suddenly feel like I have too much saliva in my mouth?

“I don’t really see anything on these other two tests, though. So that’s got to be a good thing, right?” Wyn asks.

I swallow, and set the test down, turning to lean against the bathroom counter. “I don’t know what it means,” I say truthfully. “I guess I just have to be patient and wait for the blood test to come in.”

Waiting two days, though…God, that’s going to be torture. And I’ve never had a great game face, so Roman is going to know something is up. He can read me alarmingly well.

Wyn runs her fingers through her long hair, twisting it at the ends as she avoids my gaze. “So, what are you going to tell Roman?”

“Nothing.” I gather up the tests, the boxes, and the instruction sheets, tossing them back into the plastic bag from the pharmacy. “What would I tell him anyway? I still don’t know anything.”

Wyn blinks at me, and I know she’s reading me like a book. “You’re afraid to tell him.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Why? He’s just as responsible for this as you are.”

I tie the bag closed tightly, and move past her into the hallway. I don’t want to tell her that I’m afraid this will make Roman look at me differently. Less desirable somehow. I know it’s ridiculous, which is why I don’t dare voice it. “There’s nothing to tell him, Wyn.”

“Let me have the bag. I’ll throw it away in the kitchen.” She takes it from me before I can give it to her. “Listen, Lux…”

I lift my hands. “I’ll tell him,” I say defensively. “If the blood test comes back positive, then…I’ll tell him.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure I would. Honestly, I’m just trying to get Wyn off my back.

“Okay.” She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I hug her back, trying like hell to keep the tears at bay. She thinks the test will come back positive. Otherwise, why would she be saying this? And if I’m being honest, her reaction is scaring the fuck out of me.

“Thanks, Wyn. You are a really good friend.” I pull back and sniff. “On another topic, I’ve been thinking about going through with the initiation ritual.”

Wyn stiffens, and her eyes go wide like she’s both shocked and alarmed by my announcement. “What? Why?”

Her reaction confuses me, and I lift my arms, like what the fuck? “Aren’t you the one who suggested I become a fully-fledged member?”

She pulls me into her bedroom, which is just off the hallway. Tossing the bag of pregnancy tests on her bed, she turns back to me. “Okay, yes, originally, I thought that would be a good idea, but…” She gestures to my stomach, “Considering this…possible scenario…initiation isn’t a good idea.”

I tilt my head to the side. “How bad is this initiation ritual?”

She pushes out a breath and glances away. “You know I can’t tell you that. But, just know, it’s rough.”

I shake my head. “And you made it through okay, right? Listen, if I do this, then the members might actually talk to me, and I might actually get to the bottom of what happened to Bree.”

“Okay, but it’s not like you’re going to suddenly know everything,” she says, trying to convince me that her great idea from a couple of days ago is now a horrible idea. “There are still things that only the Sacred Sons know.”

“I’ll be accepted into the fold,” I say, like that’s the end of it.

Wyn deflates like she knows trying to convince me against doing it is futile. “Okay, just promise me one thing, tell Roman about the tests, and that you want to go through with initiation. See what he says.”

Okay, she’s accepted defeat, but she’s hoping Roman will talk me out of it. How bad could the initiation ritual be? It can’t be anything illegal, or truly dangerous, right? They wouldn’t risk accidentally killing someone and having to explain that away…

However, that brings a thought to mind. “You don’t think Bree was trying to be initiated, do you?”

Wyn looks at me like she’s trying to figure out what I’m getting at. Then she shakes her head. “No, any new members have to be vetted, nominated and voted in by the Sons before it even gets to the initiation ritual stage. You guys had just arrived on campus, so there wasn’t time for all that. What happened to Bree was something else.”

I nod, satisfied by her answer. Bree would have tried to become a member, I know that for sure. She was so wrapped up in being accepted on campus, on being a part of the elite. But in the note her roommate found in her room, she seemed afraid of the society. She wanted to get away.

I give Wyn another quick hug. “Thank you for doing this with me. I’ll let you know when the blood results come in.”

“You need a ride back to Rush House?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” I say with a smile, trying to convince her I really am fine. “I could use a walk anyway.”

She nods, pressing her lips into a tight smile. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

It’s a twenty-minute walk back to Rush House, but the fresh air is exactly what I need to clear my head. I’m walking along the main road that hugs the coastline, and the ocean breeze cuts through me. But it’s warm, and the air feels good. I only wish I’d put on some sunscreen because I tend to burn easily.

I’m about a third of the way back, when a car comes up behind me, and suddenly starts to slow down.

Oh, shit. Here we go. It’s probably some random college guy, looking for some ass. Walking alone as a girl, even in broad daylight, is a fucking risk no matter how boojie the town is, I guess.

I stiffen as I watch the car pull up next to me from my periphery, but I keep walking, eyes ahead. My phone is in my hand, and I’m prepared to call for help if I need to.

The car window rolls down, and I hear a deep voice address me. “Hey, Little Rabbit. Need a ride?”

My heart skips a beat at the familiar voice, and I look over to see Roman, smiling at me from the driver’s side. His smile is so damn beautiful, stretching wide like he’s happy to see me so unexpectedly. He reaches over and opens the passenger-side door. I hop in.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I say. “Are you headed back home?”

He’s actually headed east and Rush House is west, but it’s my subtle way of asking where he’s going without really asking. I don’t want to be that girl, always trying to keep tabs on him.

“I’m headed to Exeter House to see my dad to discuss a bit of society business. You want to come?”

The words society business pique my interest. “Sure,” I say. “Will Exeter House even let me in though? I’ve heard you have to be a member to even step over the threshold.”

Exeter House is a private club for the elite of the elite, and I’ve heard they’re super snobby. Like, there’s a dress code to even walk through the door kind of snobby.

After I buckle in, he reaches over and places his hand on my thigh. “It’ll be fine.”

I look down at his hand and marvel at the intimacy of such a simple action. It just feels so easy with Roman…until it’s not. Until we both get in our heads and fuck things up. But right now, I need this with him. I need it to be easy, and comfortable, especially after the day I’ve had.

It’s like he can sense my thoughts, because he asks, “So how’d it go at the doctor’s office?”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I swallow, forcing the organ back down. “Good,” I say vaguely. “Dr. Kimball is really nice.”

“She’s been my mom’s doctor for years.” He glances at me quickly. “Did you pick up the birth control? The driver said you stopped at the pharmacy before he brought you home.”

I glance out of the passenger side window, watching the as dry, dead-looking shrubbery on the side of the road whizzes by. I can’t lie to him. I should, but I know it’ll bite me in the ass if I do, so my best option right now is avoidance.

“What business do you need to talk to your dad about?” I ask, blatantly ignoring his question.

“Lux.” He squeezes my thigh. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” I can hear the alarm in his voice like he’s about to confront whatever problem I’m having and bully it into going away. If only he could do that with this problem.

I glance at him, flashing him a quick, reassuring smile. “Everything is fine,” I say a bit defensively. “Yes, I went to the pharmacy. What else is there to say about it? I’m more interested in what you need to talk to your dad about so urgently.”

He seems satisfied with my response, but he still looks a little skeptical. Still, I guess he decides to let it go for now. “I need to convince him of something, which won’t be easy. My dad is a narcissistic asshole, who only thinks of himself.”

“Well, it’s easy then,” I say.

He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

I shrug a shoulder. “If he’s really a narcissist, then all you have to do is point out what the benefits are for him.”

He lifts a brow. “And if there are none?”

“Then bullshit your way through it,” I say. “Narcissists really care about how other people view them, and it’s pretty easy to manipulate that.”

He laughs. “Manipulate the manipulator.”

“Exactly.”

“How do you know so much about narcissists?”

I purse my lips. “My mom,” I answer evenly. “All she ever thinks about is herself, and how things will affect her. Growing up, I learned how to use that toxic trait to my advantage. I mean, as much as I could. She wasn’t in my life for very long.”

“You’re a smart cookie.” He glances over at me and smiles. “And your mom did at least one thing right. She raised a pretty strong woman.”

“Well, if that’s true, then we have my grandmother to thank for that. She’s really the one who raised me,” I say, smiling back.

“What about your dad?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No Dad. I don’t even know who he is.”

“Your mom never told you?”

“Nope. Whenever I asked, she would just tell me she never knew him, not even his first name.”

“Damn, that’s fucked up.” He shakes his head, one hand on my thigh, the other slung casually over the steering wheel. “Any kid of mine is going to know who I am, that’s for damn sure.”

Dear God, I suddenly feel sick. And not because I’m pregnant (because I’m not), but because, somehow, we’ve come back around to the subject of children and fatherhood, and at the moment, that subject is a little touchy for me…

Thankfully, I don’t need to respond, because we pull into the Exeter House parking lot, pulling under the covered carport that stretches over the elegant front entrance. Roman kills the engine and pops out of the car, dropping his keys into the waiting hand of a valet. My door opens, and I’m greeted by another valet, extending his white-gloved hand to help me out.

Roman comes around the front of the car and addresses the valet. “Keep it up front. We won’t be long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roman grabs my hand and threads his fingers through mine. It’s weird how easy we can be together, and just falling into this comfortable rhythm is everything I need right now. Squeezing my hand, he leads me through the front doors of Exeter House.

The second we step over the threshold, I gasp audibly. The foyer is breathtaking—circular with frescoes painted on the ceiling, and huge, Grecian-style pillars surrounding the entire space. It’s spectacular, and I already feel out of place in my jeans and t-shirt. I’m only three steps inside the door, and already wondering how so much wealth and luxury is even possible. People actually live like this, which is wild to me.

“I don’t think I’m dressed for this place,” I say, grabbing his forearm with my free hand. If I could crawl inside his hoodie and hide, I absolutely would.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says casually, like just waltzing into Exeter House is an everyday thing for him, and maybe it is, I don’t know, but being amidst this level of luxury is so foreign to me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rush,” a woman behind the front desk says as we pass by. “If you’re looking for your father, he’s in the dining room.”

Roman nods in acknowledgment but says nothing. He’s on a mission, clearly. But as we approach the door leading to Exeter’s restaurant, Isca, he pauses and turns to me sharply. “Okay,” he starts, his gaze locked on my face. “I’m going to leave you at the bar while I talk to my dad. He can be pretty combative, and I don’t want you caught up in his bullshit.”

“Uh, okay,” I say, a little disappointed. I was hoping to gather whatever information I could on the society business he’s here to talk about, but honestly, not meeting his dad is probably for the best. He sounds like an absolute cunt.

We step into Isca, and the host pops up from his polished mahogany podium to greet us. “Mr. Rush,” the older man says, bowing his head in greeting. Then he turns and gestures to the south/west corner of the room with his white-gloved hand. “Your father is sitting at his usual table.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Roman says, breezing past the host, and walking me straight to the bar. He flags the bartender down. “She’s with me. Anything she wants is on the Rush tab.”

The bartender, a woman who looks like she’s in her mid-thirties, smiles and pushes a menu in front of me. “Sure thing. Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

I climb up onto a barstool and pick up the menu. I’m not really hungry, but I should eat something anyway. “Thanks.”

Roman kisses the tip of my nose gently. “Stay put. I won’t be long.”

The bartender is hovering, so I order a glass of sparkling water to start, just to get her out of the way. Then my gaze follows Roman as he weaves through the dining room to his father’s table, which is on the far side of the room.

I scrutinize his dad, and I can definitely see the resemblance. He’s a bit older than I expected, maybe in his late fifties, with graying hair, and a face almost exactly like Roman’s. Only the shape of his mouth is different, and he’s sitting, so his height is hard to determine, but it looks like he might be a bit shorter than his son.

Roman approaches his dad’s table, and his dad looks up from his meal. He’s alone, and the reception he gives his son is chilly, at best. He doesn’t look pleased to see Roman at all, which is weird to me. Even my mom, who is a selfish cunt, would be happy to see me if I just popped up—or, at least, she’d feign happiness. It’s all about optics and perception with her.

The bartender slides my glass of sparkling water in front of me. “Would you like to order any food?”

“Oh, sorry, I haven’t even looked at the menu.” Spinning around on my stool, I glance down at the menu in my hand. There are four items on it, each option weirder than the next. I order the least weird of the four, which is “chilled cucumber with trout roe,” whatever that is.

I glance back at Roman and his dad. Roman is seated now with his back to me, but he’s animated, talking with his hands as his dad sits back in his chair and listens, his expression guarded.

I’m dying to know what they’re talking about, but after just a few minutes my food comes, and my focus is drawn away from Roman and his dad.

I stare down at my plate, confused. This doesn’t look appetizing at all. Turns out, “chilled cucumber with trout roe” is three slices of cucumber with a dollop of bright orange something on top. I poke at the tiny gelatinous balls. I look it up on my phone and discover “roe” is just a fancy word for eggs, so…trout caviar.

Gross.

“You’ll do it!” Roman yells, his voice rising over the quiet chatter of the restaurant. He brings his hands down on the table with such force, that the clattering silver can be heard clearly across the room.

I spin around to see what’s happening, as does everyone else, and I see Roman stand up, then lean in to say something to his dad. Then he turns and stalks toward me.

Oh, shit. What the hell just happened?