41. East

FORTY-ONE

east

WHETHER I WANTED to admit it or not, having Zac make a surprise appearance just to check on me had my chest squeezing something fierce. Only this time I knew I wasn't in danger of having a heart attack, though my friends might be.

Smirking to myself at their reaction, I made my way across the building, easily able to ignore the stares directed my way with every step I took. Not that people staring was anything new for me, but the reason why was altogether different now.

Normally, I'd tell them all to fuck off, but I didn't even care to this morning. Why would I bother when the people who actually mattered had my back?

I couldn't help the smile that wanted to break free as I thought back to waking up with Zac and King earlier. The panic attack that had begun back on the island was nowhere to be found. In fact, having them nearby—and making Zac take the middle spot—eased my restlessness, and I hadn't woken up even once during the night.

Who the hell was I?

I wasn't the kind of guy who got caught up in feelings, but it was becoming impossible to ignore the way I missed them when they were gone. The way I sought them out when I knew they were near. The way they seemed to occupy my mind even though I had a million other important things I should've been thinking about.

I'd never been more terrified in my life, but at the same time, never felt safer. It was strange to rely on anyone other than myself, but with King and Zac I'd finally started to let my guard down. To let them see behind the walls I was always so careful to stand behind.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, I almost missed seeing my father slip in through the back door.

Holy shit. What?

My feet stopped moving, and I was sure I was hallucinating. King had told me he'd made bail, but the last thing I expected was to see him at Astor.

"What the fuck?"

Instead of heading to King's office, I pivoted in my father's direction, and when he saw me coming, something that looked like relief crossed his face and he inclined his head for me to follow.

Huh. He was here to see me, then?

I headed toward the back hall where he'd disappeared and glanced behind me as I rounded the corner, making sure neither of us had been followed.

But when I turned back, the hall was empty, nothing but offices?—

"James." My father's voice was low, and I whirled around to see him standing inside Professor Efron's empty office. I followed him in, keeping the door cracked so I could listen out for anyone walking by and turned to face him.

The great Niles Easton was a proud man, tall, in shape, his dark brown hair only threaded with silver, always, always immaculately dressed in a custom suit from our tailor in Italy. He was why I took great care in my own attire, because no one respected a man who didn't look the part.

Only now, his sharp features were even more prominent, with etched lines in his forehead where I'd never noticed them before, and a downturn to his mouth.He didn't look like a man at the top of his game. He looked like he'd been put through the wringer.

"James." My father wasn't a man who showed affection, so when he laid a hand on my shoulder, I tensed up.

"What are you doing here?"

That wasn't what I'd expected to ask him when I saw him again. I assumed I'd express some feeling of relief that he was no longer behind bars. That he'd answer all my questions, reassure me this was a big misunderstanding and everything was fine.

But in the pit of my stomach, I knew. Everything was not fine. And my father wasn't innocent.

He squeezed my shoulder before drawing his hand away. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I couldn't remember a time he'd ever stopped by Astor, and definitely not to see me.

My father tilted his head to the side, his hazel eyes the same color as mine sharpening. "Aren't you glad I'm here? That I'm free? I've been through hell the last few days."

"Yeah. I heard." I crossed my arms and stepped back, putting some space between us. "Care to explain what's been going on?"

"I beg your pardon?"

His choice of words had me scoffing. "From what I hear, that's exactly what you'll be doing. Begging for a pardon."

"Don't tell me you believe all the rumors. I raised you to be smarter than that."

"Uh huh. So you're telling me you're innocent? You didn't do any of the things you've been charged with?"

He let out a long sigh and rested on the edge of the desk. "Business is complicated. You'll learn that soon enough."

"It's a yes-or-no question."

"Nothing is ever that cut and dry, James," he snapped. "Once you graduate and enter the real world, you'll understand."

"Riiight. Because I'll have a degree that makes it suddenly possible to learn the deceptive ways of the world. Makes sense."

"Don't speak that way to me. You may not approve or like my ways, but you will respect me."

And that was the thing—I always had. I'd respected and admired my father, had always thought he was the smartest man in the city because he was one of the most successful. One of the richest. He was the owner of Easton Tower, one of Manhattan's architectural masterpieces, for Christ's sake.

All of that, gone with the click of the handcuffs on his wrists.

There was so much I wanted to say in that moment, the last few days' worth of festering emotions just dying to come out, but it felt a hell of a lot deeper than that. Like I'd been holding on to resentment toward him for longer than I realized.

"Did you really come here just to see me?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I did." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled something out. "While I'm here, I thought you could hold on to these for me."

I stared down at the folded legal-sized envelope but didn't move to take it."What's that?"

"Just a few documents that need safekeeping."

My eyes flicked up to his. "Why don't you put them in the safe?"

"Because they're important, and I'd rather entrust you with them."

"I'm sure Mother would hold on to them for you if they're so important."

He shoved the papers toward me, exasperated. "Just fucking take them."

Something told me not to. Call it a gut instinct, but there was no way in hell I was holding on to anything that could be a piece of incriminating evidence.

"I don't think so," I said, keeping my arms crossed.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm not getting involved in whatever you have going on."

I'd never seen my father's face turn several shades of red so fast, but he was practically scarlet as he snarled, "You're my son and the future head of my company. You will do this for me."

"Company? What company?" I dropped my arms by my sides and took a step toward him. "The one supposedly meant for me that you just flushed down the toilet by wheeling and dealing illegally? I always knew you were ruthless, but call me crazy, I thought it was because you were good at your job and worked hard."

"That's rich coming from you. You've been handed everything your whole life, and now that one thing goes wrong, you're ready to jump ship?"

"Better than going down with a sinking one."

"You ungrateful fuck—" He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and jerked me forward, and I'd braced myself for the hit I knew was coming when the door slammed open.

"Take your hands off him." King's voice was lethal behind me.

My father looked up and narrowed his eyes but didn't loosen his grip. "This doesn't concern you."

"You'll find that it does. Let. Him. Go."

His moment of hesitation gave me the time to extricate myself from his grasp and back away to where King stood, his black eyes so full of fury that I was shocked my father was still standing.

With the envelope still in hand, he straightened the lapels of his suit jacket and went to hand me the documents again. "My son and I were just discussing a personal matter."

I shook my head. "I told you I'm not taking those."

"James, do what I say?—"

"No."

"This isn't a request?—"

"And I'm not your scapegoat. Deal with it yourself."

Shock crossed his face before my father started forward again, but King moved to stand between the two of us, blocking him from taking another step. I'd never seen my parents lift a hand toward me or anyone, so the fact that he was so obviously in a desperate way told me things were far worse than he was letting on. And that scared the shit out of me.

"You won't raise a hand to him again," King said, his voice betraying a calmness his rigid stance belied. "Because if you do, you won't enjoy the consequences the way I will. And I will enjoy them. Immensely. So try me. I dare you."

My father's mouth parted, like he'd never been spoken to that way in his life—he probably hadn't—and then his expression hardened again, his jaw clenched tight.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are?—"

"Tyrone Kingston, a professor here at Astor, and you, Niles Easton, are trespassing."

"I'm not?—"

"The terms of your bail include a strict house arrest order, which means you're in clear violation by setting foot here. One call from an anonymous source and the court will not only revoke your bond, but they'll issue a warrant for your arrest."

My eyes went wide, my heart thundering so loud I wondered if they could hear it, but if either of them noticed, they didn't acknowledge it. They were too busy engaging in a power struggle that my father wouldn't win. He couldn't. King held the ace, and everyone in this room knew it.

"You really should think about leaving now." King cocked his head like there wasn't an insane amount of power vibrating off him in waves. "I'm sure you'd hate for your son to see you in handcuffs up close and personal. That's the kind of thing that could really fuck someone up for life. Don't you think?"

I always thought my father was a scary son of a bitch, but there was an edge to King's voice that told me this was him playing nice for my benefit only.

It was so fucking hot.

My father's nostrils flared, and after a long, tense silence, he folded the envelope and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. Then he strolled toward the door like he hadn't just been dressed down and threatened by someone he thought was only a professor.

King angled his body in front of mine, and when my father stopped at the door, he gave me a severe look. "I'll call you later. Son ."

And then he left. Just like that, without another word, taking whatever he'd been trying to palm off on me with him. I didn't know what was in that envelope, and I didn't want to.

The second he was out of sight, King turned to face me, all that built-up rage still simmering beneath the surface.He cupped my jaw, and I leaned into his hand. Dark eyes roamed over my face, searching for any sign of distress, but I wasn't thinking about my father anymore.

No, all I could think about now was that King cared enough to stand up to him. To stand up for me. No one ever did that. I never let them, because that would be a sign of weakness, and us Easton men were the top of the food chain.

At least, that was what I always thought. Until today.

But King had stepped up for me, and so had Zac. Neither of them had to, and they did it anyway. I wasn't an easy person to navigate, and now that I didn't have shit to offer either of them, I knew it wasn't my money or status they cared about.

Fuck. My heart hammered as emotions threatened to overwhelm me, especially as I watched the hard set of King's jaw and shoulders begin to ease.

"My office, little prince," he said quietly, but still full of authority that set my body on fire. "Now."