57. Thea
57
Thea
W hat was I doing? I shoved Landon away and hurriedly pulled my leggings back up.
“I need to get back,” I repeated. “I assume the tour is over?” God, what must I look like? Thank God there wasn’t a mirror up here. I had a feeling my face was beet red and my hair a bird’s nest.
Once was a mistake. Twice? Yeah. I had no excuses.
I blamed the cake. Eating two slices of chocolate cake had dulled my brain. It was the only explanation. Jesus. I’d only just recovered from Kyril, and now I was letting Landon go to town on my pussy? Did that make me a slut? Asking for a friend.
Landon grinned before wiping his face on an old tee shirt hanging off the nearby sofa. “I have lots more to show you,” he purred, edging closer again. But I wasn’t falling for his crap a second time. Nope. It was obvious Landon Fucking Rothmore needed a lesson on boundaries. Because he had none.
“Does it involve your dick?” I sniped.
“Well, seeing as how you’re—”
I shoved him away. Hard.
“Ouch!” He pouted. “There’s no need for violence!”
“Yeah, there is. Now let’s go.”
“So grumpy,” he muttered, and I fought to hide my smile. It was hard not to like Landon. He reminded me of a bouncy golden retriever. The sort of dog that would hump your leg while woofing happily.
The kind of pet I would have loved as a kid, only my father didn’t allow it. So the closest I got to having a pet of my own was caring for a stray cat that used to sleep in the barn. I loved that cat. Even though he was flea-ridden and had half an ear missing, he was a survivor like me.
The cat hung around all winter while I snuck food out and made sure he had warm blankets in a box, then come spring, he vanished, and I never saw him again. I had a strong suspicion Torrance had something to do with his disappearance but could never prove it.
I made my way back downstairs, with Landon behind me. Outside, it was beginning to snow once again, but college wasn’t too far away and Landon’s SUV was an all-wheel drive, so if we left now, we’d be fine.
“Florrie has some cake for you,” Landon said when we reached the reception hall. “Give me five and then we can head off.”
He disappeared down a side corridor, leaving me alone.
Just as I wandered across the room to look at some photographs on a console table, the front door opened and an older couple walked in, shaking the snow from an umbrella. The man had gray, closely cropped hair and appeared to be in his 50s, whereas the woman looked younger, with beautifully coiffed blond hair in a smart chignon.
They talked in low voices as they entered the hallway but went silent the moment they saw me.
“Who are you?” the man snapped in a voice almost as icy as the temperature outside.
I straightened my back. Dad had always told me to look a predator in the eye, so they understood you weren’t prey.
“Thea. I’m with Landon.”
The woman smiled warmly. “Oh, you must be the girl Florrie mentioned. Lovely to meet you, dear. I’m Landon’s mother, Isobel.” Landon’s green eyes stared back at me, only hers had a touch of blue to them. It was easy to see where he got his looks from; Isobel Rothmore was stunning.
“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Rothmore,” I said, feeling horribly awkward and wishing Landon would come and rescue me.
“Please, call me Isobel. Now, where is my son?”
“Yes, where is the boy? He’s been avoiding my calls.” Landon’s father didn’t bother introducing himself. Once he’d dropped his briefcase and umbrella on the floor, he stomped away, muttering something under his breath while looking at his phone.
Isobel watched him leave with a faint frown and then smiled again. “Please take no notice of my husband, Stuart. He’s notoriously grumpy.”
“He’s a lot more than grumpy, Mama,” Landon said as he appeared with a plastic tub of cake. “Some would call him a prick of the first order.”
“Lan, darling, don’t be rude about your father,” Isobel hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure the asshole hadn’t heard.
“Nothing I haven’t said to his face, Mama.” Landon’s easy grin looked forced. He must not have a great relationship with his dad.
Just like me.
It seemed to be a common theme, what with Cassian’s father being a dick as well. I wasn’t sure about Milo or Kyril’s sperm donors, but knowing Kyril’s background, I strongly suspected his father was a psychopath.
It went with the territory, my father being an excellent example of a mafia leader with psychopathic/narcissistic tendencies. The DSM probably had his name listed in the section on psychopathy.
“Landon, a word, please.” Isobel stepped back as Landon’s father reappeared. From his clenched jaw, I suspected he’d heard what Landon said.
“Why don’t you go wait for me in the car,” Landon suggested. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He handed me the key fob and cake box.
“Lovely to meet you, my dear,” Isobel said warmly. She pulled me close for a quick hug. I tried not to tense up, but I wasn’t used to random displays of affection. Hugs were a rare commodity while growing up. “Please tell Lan to bring you back here again. He hardly ever brings girls back to meet me.” She looked sad, but having met his father, I could understand Landon’s reluctance to fetch girls here.
“I will,” I gritted out. While Isobel seemed lovely, I wasn’t keen on meeting Stuart Rothmore again. He could go take a running jump off a cliff. Before Isobel could rope me into anymore awkward chats, I muttered something about needing to warm up the car and hurried outside.
Landon appeared ten minutes later, his normally cheerful face marred by a scowl.
“Everything OK?” I asked when 20 minutes passed and he’d not said a word. He hadn’t even bothered hooking up his music to the car.
“Fine.” Well, OK then. I turned away and stared out at the falling snow. If it carried on snowing, the college would end up cut off from the nearby town. Potentially for a week or even longer if the forecast was accurate.
I wondered if my father knew about the snow. He expected me to travel down to London soon. He still hadn’t told me why, but he had said he’d send a car for me, which made my life easier. London was a long way from Scotland, and I didn’t fancy the idea of catching a train.
By the time we pulled into the parking garage, I was ready for a nap. The thought of going to another boring class made me want to stick pins in my eyes, so I made the snap decision to skip it.
Most of the professors uploaded recordings online within a day of their classes, so I could use that to check if I needed to complete any assignments. I was already falling behind, so I really needed to get to grips with the coursework, but it all seemed so pointless.
Torrance had warned me I would most likely be leaving in a few short weeks. Don’t get too comfortable with this life , he’d said in his last message. The implied threat being it could all be taken away from me in a heartbeat.
Landon switched the engine off and turned to face me, but I was already half-way out the door. “Thea, wait!” he yelled. “Cake!”
Dammit, I’d left the cake box on the back seat. I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head. Cake was a treat I didn’t deserve. I needed to get my head back in the game and focus. The longer I stayed away, the more danger Verity was in.
I jogged out of the rear door and headed back to my tower. The wind howled, blowing snow in my face. Even though it wasn’t 4 PM yet, it was so dark it could have been midnight.
There was no one around. No doubt everyone was in class or tucked up in their rooms, warm and cozy, which was where I intended to be.
I was so busy thinking about taking a hot shower and pulling a pair of comfy PJs on that I didn’t see the tall figure in a black hoodie jogging toward me. We collided hard, and I stumbled sideways. A firm hand grabbed my arm.
“ Merda , are you alright?” That voice . I froze like a statue, no longer caring about turning into Frosty the Snowman.
A pair of chocolate brown eyes stared down at me as the runner pulled ear buds out and glared with enough heat to melt all the snow in the Arctic Circle.
“You,” he growled.
Dario hated me, and I had no clue why. There was a time when he said he loved me. So what happened? Why had love turned to hatred?
It made no sense.
“Dar, I—”
“Get out of my fucking way,” he snarled. He’d grown taller, broader since the last time I saw him. Back then, he was still a teenager with a teen’s lanky frame. Not anymore.
This version of Dar was all man.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm, betraying none of the swirling emotions churning in my brain.
“I’m here to study.”
“Me, too.”
He scoffed. “Is that what you told them?” Despite the fading light, I could see the fresh sheen of sweat across his stubbly jaw, smell the fresh citrus scent of his skin.
It took me back to a time when we spent hours together, talking, sharing all our hopes and dreams. None of which came to pass.
Teenage me had dreamed of running away with Dar and Verity. Flying somewhere far, far away, somewhere beyond my father’s reach. How na?ve I’d been. I stupidly assumed Dar felt the same way as me. But as my father always loved to remind me, assumption is the mother of all mistakes.
“Why do you care, anyway?”
“I don’t care.” His lips curled up in a hateful sneer, making it more than clear how much he detested the very sight of me. Then he stepped back, shoved his ear buds back in, and jogged away.