Fourteen
Remington
F riday comes sooner than I want, but I jump in the shower and dress appropriately for dinner with my father. My mind would normally be on the dreadful evening, but I find myself wondering what Fallon is doing tonight. Will she be going out? There is a bar not far from campus that allows in undergrads. It’s normally full on weekends and I wouldn’t put it past my little fox to go just to piss me off. My warning was clear, but her defiance is at an all time high, making me want to chain her to my bed so no one can even look at her.
My obsession with Fallon has increased tenfold since initiation night. I allowed her to leave me in the woods that night, knowing that she would never be far from my reach. I’ve kept my distance, giving her the false sense of security she needs, for the most part.
As I watch her, something inside me shifts. Her strength of character, her unwavering spirit, it is infuriating and captivating all at once. I find myself drawn to her, not just as a target, but as a puzzle I can’t solve.
Thursday, as she walks past me in the hallway, I reach out to grab her arm. She turns to face me, her eyes blazing with defiance.
“What do you want now?” she demands, her voice steady despite the anxiety I can see lurking in her gray eyes.
I hesitate, the words I planned to say caught in my throat. For the first time, I don’t know how to respond.
She pulls her arm free and takes a step back, her eyes never leaving mine. “If you’re just going to stand there, I’ll be on my way,” she says, turning to leave.
“Wait,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. She pauses, looking back at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
“What?” she asks, her tone softer now, but still guarded.
“I… I don’t know,” I admit, feeling a strange vulnerability. “Why do you never back down? Why do you always fight back?”
She tilts her head, considering my question. “Because I have to,” she replies simply. “If I don’t stand up for myself, who will?”
Her words strike a chord deep within me. I’ve always seen her as a challenge, a game to be won. But now, I’m beginning to see her as something more. Someone who could teach me about strength and resilience.
I continued reading through her file and even got Nix to dig more up on her. Her piece of a shit father is in jail, but all the details surrounding why were almost cleared from all documents. There is something sinister about that man. You can see it in his eyes, and it makes me curious about what went on in their house. I’ve already gotten in touch with my PI to get any and all information on Fallon and her family.
I’ve kept tabs on her all week. She didn’t need to see me to know I was near. She was always looking over her shoulder, trying to find me. A smile tugs at my lips, thinking of the sassy sway of her ass in those tight leggings she wore today. Her long blue hair blew in the breeze as she walked from one class to the next.
My phone vibrates, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Sperm Donor:
See you at eight. Don’t be late.
I roll my eyes as I toss my phone on the bed. I hate these fucking dinners. I hate being paraded around like we are a perfect family, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s so concerned about his image and what the voters see. We live in a glass house, putting on a show for the whole world to see. If only they knew the real monster behind the mask. Maybe that’s where I get this from. This overwhelming need to dominate and overpower Fallon. You can’t grow up in a home like mine and not pick up a few bad traits.
I’m going to need a distraction after this, and I know just the person for the job. She’s had enough time to process her fate. Now it’s time she knows who she belongs to. If I thought fucking her would get her out of my system, I was sorely mistaken. I want her even more. I shouldn’t be thinking about how soft her lips were against mine, or the fact that I can’t wait to taste them again. For my own self preservation, I should dump her to the side, knowing that I’m playing with fire. But fuck, do I want to be burned.
I pull up to the restaurant my father chose and hop from my Jeep, throwing my keys toward the valet.
“Don’t scratch it,” I warn, as I button my suit jacket. Vincenzo’s Ristorante is nestled in the heart of the city, exuding an air of sophistication and elegance. As I approach, the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting spills out from the large, arched windows.
I’m greeted by the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces. The interior is a harmonious blend of classic and contemporary design. Marble floors gleam underfoot and the walls are adorned with intricate frescoes, depicting scenes from the Italian countryside. Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft, golden light that creates an intimate atmosphere.
“Welcome,” the bright young hostess muses as she takes me in, licking her lips in the process. I’d probably slip her my number on the way out if I didn’t already have someone occupying my mind. That thought alone should have me taking her into the bathroom to suck my cock, but the thought gives me a sour taste in my mouth. Fuck, I need to get my shit together. I don’t want Fallon, but as soon as the thought surfaces, I shut it down.
“I’m meeting Benjamin Frampton,” I state, ignoring her wide eyes. So, she knows who I am then. Of course .
“Of course, sir. Right this way. They only arrived moments ago.” She moves from the stand and begins walking toward the back, but my mind is stuck on the fact that she said “they”. What the hell is my father up to this time?
“Here you ar–” she’s cut short when my father stands from the table, making her scurry away. Yeah, he has that effect on people.
“Remington. Happy to see you can do as you’re told,” he quips quietly as he pulls me in for the mandatory embrace. My father’s grip is firm, almost crushing, as he pulls me into a hug. I stiffen, resisting the urge to pull away.
“Father,” I prod, wanting to get on with this dinner.
“I have someone for you to meet. This is Abigail.” He pulls back quickly, then pulls the hand of a woman I hadn’t noticed before. When he introduces her, I feel a jolt of recognition, but I can’t place it. She gracefully rises from the booth and holds her hand out for me to take.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Remington. I’ve heard so much about you,” her soft voice lingers in the air.
“I wish I could say the same,” I reply flatly.
“Remington,” my father warns.
“It’s alright, dear,” she says, her voice soothing. She rests her hand gently on his forearm, her touch softening his stern expression. My father, the man who rarely shows any emotion, is looking at her with genuine affection? What is he playing at? I’m about to demand answers when the hairs on my neck prickle. Before I can turn, I hear her soft voice.
“Mom?” Fallon’s voice is barely a whisper. My mind races. Mom? Fallon’s mom? How is that possible? I turn slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Fallon stands frozen, her eyes wide with shock. She gulps, then looks from me to Abigail. The restaurant seems to fade away, the soft clinking of cutlery and murmured conversations becoming distant as the tension between us grows. The air leaves my lungs as I take in the sexy little dress Fallon chose to wear tonight. It’s black like the one she wore to the party, but a little more conservative. Her long hair is curled to the side and pinned in place.
“Honey! I’m so glad you could make it,” she beams as she pulls her in for a hug. Fallon’s arms hang limply at her sides, her eyes never leaving mine. What the hell is going on here?
“Remington, this is my daughter, Fallon. She’s attending the same university with you.” Fallon looks horrified.
“We’ve met,” I announce, my voice flat. Fallon’s eyes widen, and she looks at me, her face a mix of shock and confusion.
Abigail’s eyes dart between us, clearly taken aback. “You have?” she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.
“Yes,” I smirk, my gaze fixed on Fallon. “We’ve had a few classes together.” The lie slips easily from my lips, but the truth is far more complicated.
Fallon’s face flushes and she looks down at her hands, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize you knew each other,” Abigail claims, trying to regain her composure.
“Honey, this is Remington’s father, Benjamin.” He holds out his hand for her to shake. He’s always so fucking formal, but the minute her hands slips into his, I see red. I don’t want anyone touching what’s mine, especially him.
“Since everyone’s here, shall we take our seats?” My father’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone commanding as always. He gestures to the table and we all move to sit, the air thick with unspoken questions.
I take a seat across from Abigail, my eyes never leaving her face. Fallon sits beside me, her hands trembling slightly as she places them in her lap. My father sits at the head, his presence dominating the space.
Fallon shifts uncomfortably beside me, her eyes darting around the room, as if looking for an escape. Yeah, you and I both, little fox. “Mom, what’s going on?” she asks, her voice wavering.
Abigail’s smile falters and she glances at my father before answering. “Fallon, there’s something we need to discuss. Something important.”
My father leans forward, his hand covering Abigail’s. “Remington, Fallon, Abigail and I have been seeing each other for some time now.” The fuck? The reality of what he’s saying falls over the table. I glance at Fallon, the same shock written across her face.
At the most inopportune time, the waitress appears.
“Good evening. My name is Samantha and I will be your server. What would you like to drink?” She scribbles down our orders, then disappears as quickly as she came.
My father’s words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I feel a surge of anger and betrayal but I force myself to stay calm.
“Seeing each other?” I echo, my voice cold.
“Yes,” Abigail says softly. “We couldn’t keep it a secret any longer,” she trails off, looking to my father for guidance.
My father clears his throat. “We understand this is a lot to take in, but we hope you can accept it.”
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything. “Why now?” I ask, my voice barely steady. “Why tell us now?”
Abigail looks down at her hands, her expression pained. “Because we got married,” she says quietly.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I glance at Fallon, who looks as shocked as I feel. My father’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. The bastard.
“Married?” Fallon echoes, her voice breaking. She looks back at me and I can see the swirl of questions going through her mind, but most of all she looks hurt. The anger I’ve been barely containing threatens to explode. I hate seeing that pained expression on her face, unless I’m the cause. No one else gets to torment her but me.
Abigail reaches out to touch Fallon’s hand, but she pulls away, her eyes filled with tears. “You’ve been seeing each other behind our backs?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I can’t hold back any longer. “And you thought now was the right time?” I snap, my anger finally breaking through. “In the middle of a restaurant, with no warning?”
My father’s expression hardens. “Watch your tone, Remington. This is difficult for all of us.” He looks around, making sure we haven’t drawn the attention of others, but that’s the last thing on my mind. He should have known this news wouldn’t be well received. That’s why he did this in public. It’s all starting to make sense now.
I glare at him, my jaw clenched. “Difficult? You have no idea what difficult is,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’ve blindsided us with this… this betrayal.”
“This is not a betrayal,” he seethes, his face turning red. The intensity of his anger is unmistakable, and it only fuels my own.
“Then what would you call it?” I snap back, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been lying to us, keeping secrets. How is that not a betrayal? How long has this been going on?”
Abigail looks between us, her eyes filled with worry. “Please, let’s not do this here,” she pleads softly. “We can talk about this calmly.”
My father’s face is still red with anger, but he takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “This isn’t the place for this discussion,” he agrees, his voice strained but quieter. “We’ll talk about it later, at home.”
I glare at him, my rage still simmering. “Like hell we will. You brought us here. Now, answer the damn question,” I demand, my voice tight.
“Fine,” he answers, his voice low and measured. “We’ve been seeing each other for about six months. We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure it was serious.”
“Six months?” Fallon repeats in shock. “And you didn’t think we deserved to know? How did you even meet?” Gone is the trembling and out comes the fury I’ve come to know from her.
“Benjamin was my divorce lawyer,” she begins, her voice steady, but soft. “Once everything was finalized, we got to talking and realized we had a lot in common.”
The waitress returns with our drinks, her cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere at our table. “Here you go,” she says, placing the glasses in front of us. “Are you ready to order?”
“I believe we still need a few more minutes,” my father responds cooly. She nods, then retreats back to where she came.
I take a deep breath, trying to process this new information. “So, you met through your divorce?” I interrogate, my voice laced with disbelief. “And you thought it was a good idea to start a relationship?”
Abigail looks down at her hands, her expression pained. “It wasn’t planned,” she claims quietly. “We just… connected.”
“You mean you connected with his wallet,” I seethe, unable to contain my anger. The words hang in the air, sharp and cutting.
Abigail’s face pales and she looks genuinely hurt by my accusation. “It’s not like that,” she defends, her voice trembling. “I care about him, Remington. This isn’t about money.”
My father’s expression darkens and he leans forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “That’s enough,” he asserts, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not speak to her that way.”
I glare back at him, my anger on the brink of explosion. “Then maybe you should have thought about how this would affect us before you decided to keep it a secret. But you don’t care about anything other than yourself, right?” I laugh. “Since you’ve replaced my mother, does that mean I’ll stop being harassed for killing her?” I snap.
Shocked expressions line everyone’s faces but I don’t give a fuck. He’s no longer the puppeteer in my life.
“How dare you—“ but he doesn’t finish, Abigail intertwines their fingers, causing his words to falter. Yeah, he wouldn’t want to show her his true colors.
Fallon’s eyes are wide as she looks between us, clearly overwhelmed by everything.
“Please,” she whispers, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grasp. “Can we just… talk about this later?”
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions for her sake. “Fine,” I state, through gritted teeth. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
My father nods, his expression still hard. “Agreed,” he responds. “We’ll discuss this later, in private.”
The waitress returns, sensing the tension, but maintaining her professional demeanor. “Are you ready to order now?” she questions, her voice polite.
“Actually, I no longer have an appetite. Fallon?” I query, turning to her.
Fallon shakes her head, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “No, I’m not hungry either,” she agrees.
I turn back to my father and Abigail. “We’re leaving,” I announce, standing up and helping Fallon to her feet.
My father’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t try to stop us.
“I’ll call you later, sweetie,” Abigail calls out to Fallon, but she doesn’t turn as I guide her out of the restaurant. Her warmth radiates through my hand on the small of her back. The cool night air hits us as we step outside and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
I gesture to the valet, making him jump to his feet and dash to get my Jeep. His footsteps echo against the pavement as he dashes to the parking lot.
Fallon doesn’t wait around. She digs through her purse for keys, then tries to walk off from me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I growl as I grasp her arm. I pull her back against me, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. Her nails dig into my arm, but I don’t let go.
She struggles for a moment, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “I need to get out of here,” she snaps. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
I tighten my grip, trying to keep her from running off. “You’re not going anywhere alone,” I assert firmly.
“I have plans tonight, Remy. Now let me go!” She glares at me, probably waiting on me to release her, but that’s not happening. I can feel her pulse quicken under my fingers. I can see the conflict in her gaze, torn between the urge to flee and the need to confront the situation.
“Cancel them,” I demand, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Fallon’s eyes narrow and she stops struggling for a moment, her chest heaving with each breath. “You can’t just control everything, Remy,” she states, her voice a mix of anger and pleading. “I need space. I need to think.” She tries to pull away again, but this time with less force, as if she’s testing my resolve.
“You don’t need space from me,” I bark, enough to make her flinch.
“Stop! You’re my stepbrother, for fuck’s sake! This–this changes everything.” She pushes away from me, and I’m left speechless. I hadn’t considered all the implications of the evening’s news.
I stand there, stunned as her words sink in. Stepbrother . The weight of the revelation crashes over me, and for a moment, I can’t find my voice.
“Fallon, I…” I start, but the words die in my throat. How could I have been so blind? She takes another step back, forming a wedge between us. The anger and betrayal coursing through me are almost too much to bear. He did this. He had to go stick is dick in the one person he shouldn’t. My father’s actions have once again left me to pick up the pieces.
I reach out but she recoils, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from the truth. She thinks she’s getting rid of me so easily, but this changes nothing.
“We can’t just pretend like nothing happened,” she responds, her voice barely a whisper.
I clench my fists, trying to keep my emotions in check. “He did this,” I fume, my voice shaking with rage. “He ruined everything, and now we’re the ones who have to deal with it.”
Fallon’s eyes soften for a moment, but she quickly hardens her expression. “I can’t do this, Remy. I can’t be around you right now.”
Before I can say anything else, the valet returns, breathless as he hops from the Jeep. “Sir, your vehicle is ready,” he interrupts. I pull a hundred dollar bill and slap it against his chest.
“Keep the change.” When I turn back, Fallon is gone.
I stand there, the keys heavy in my hand as the valet scurries away with a grateful nod. The realization that Fallon left hits me like a punch to the gut. The parking lot feels emptier without her, the silence almost deafening.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The anger and frustration bubble up inside me, but there’s no one to direct it at. My father, Fallon, myself—it’s all a tangled mess.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white. The engine roars to life, but I don’t move. I can’t. Not yet.
“Dammit, Fallon,” I curse under my breath. If she thinks she can escape me, then she hasn’t been paying attention. This changes nothing. Fallon Monroe belongs to me, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.
As I drive through the dark streets, my mind is a whirlwind of plans and possibilities. I need to find her. The city lights blur past, but my focus is razor-sharp.
I pull out my phone and start dialing, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and resolve.
“I need a favor,” I demand when the call connects. “Find Fallon. Now .”
Hanging up, I take a deep breath, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.