Chapter 7
VAHN
My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with calls from the manager of the building where my penthouse was. When I turned my phone off—whatever he had to say could be dealt with later—he called the school.
So here I was, stepping into a building I didn’t want to, to deal with some bullshit I didn’t want to. Nothing new there. Every day of my life I was doing shit I didn’t want to.
Pull Mitch away from some gambling catastrophe, jerk off instead of fucking the girl I really wanted to, or listen to some professor talk about crap I had no interest in. The only reason I majored in cinematic arts was to piss my dad off. When was I going to get what I wanted?
I almost got it yesterday. Emma’s lips were right there, so close that I could taste her nervousness. I went feral on Stacy and Mindy. Fucked them all night long, and they didn’t come close to touching the need clawing at my soul. After an eight hour fuck fest, I was still hungry.
The doorman nodded at me as I walked into the lobby. “Good afternoon Mr. Kessler.”
I felt like asking him what was so fucking good about it, right after I punched that smile off his face.
But why waste the energy taking my irritation out on him when the cause of said irritation was waiting for me in the penthouse.
The sooner this was dealt with, the sooner I could get back to my life.
Taking a deep breath, I calmed my anger and pushed the button to call the elevator.
A couple of people eyed me as they walked by, but it was the woman standing in the elevator that made my mouth tip up in amusement. The doors opened, and her lip began to curl in disgust, that deepened the more she rolled her judgy eyes over me.
“Who let you in here?”
I got it. Most of the people around here were dressed in designer labels and tailored suits, while I was wearing jeans and a Metallica t-shirt.
“The doorman.” I stepped inside and gave her the same judgmental look she was giving me. “Who let you in here?”
She looked so insulted that one would think I just slapped her mother. Though given her obvious fake boobs and way too long nails, she probably wouldn’t mind if someone slapped her mother.
There was a certain look people who found their way into money had. Fear. Like at any second they would lose everything.
It was similar to the look a child gave their parents when they couldn’t find their favorite teddy bear. And this bitch had that look all over her face. She also had the same fake aura of confidence that a lot of gold diggers had.
“Excuse me, but I live here.”
No, her husband or boyfriend lived here. She was just staying with them.
“So do I.” Technically. Although I hadn’t been here in years. A friend of mine was living here instead. And by friend, I meant the guy who answered my ad, and passed all the background checks.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I highly doubt that. You couldn’t afford to live in the basement here.”
I didn’t say a word. I just leaned over and punched in the code for the penthouse.
Her eyes went wide.
That’s right bitch.
I smiled at her. “What floor?”
“Um…” she cleared her throat. “Third please.”
It was amazing how fast she found her manners.
The third floor meant she was either fucking a married judge who was at least thirty years older than her, or that the gay couple had decided to expand their sexual horizons.
I was going to assume it wasn’t the latter. So much for all judges being honorable.
Not another word was spoken on our ride to the third floor, where she got off and left me alone with the elevator music version of Beethoven’s fifth. At least she managed to lift my mood a little. I didn’t feel like punching anyone anymore.
Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. When the elevator dinged on the top floor and the doors slid open, it wasn’t the manager I saw waiting for me. It was my father. He was standing in the kitchen leaning on the island, looking as serious and professional as ever in his three piece suit.
Fuck.
His dark eyes locked on mine before I could push the close door button. “Vahn.”
“Dad.” I sighed and stepped off the elevator. “I thought we were meeting after school?”
That was the plan. Every month on the fifteenth, I would meet my dad for dinner and tell him about school. That was his way of keeping an eye on me.
“My meeting finished early, so I thought I’d come here and freshen up. Imagine my surprise when I found someone else sleeping in your bed.”
That was hard to explain, but not impossible.
“Yeah, Brian got a little drunk last night and crashed here.” I said while heading into the penthouse as if I was there every day.
“His name is Ben.”
Fuck, I knew it started with a B. “Ben then. I didn’t ask his name when he was stumbling around.”
I thought it was believable. My father did not.
“Cut the shit Vahn, why is someone else living in your apartment? And where the fuck are you living?”
“I live here.” I argued. “Do you see any of my shit missing? Go look in the closet. You’ll find all my clothes in there.”
They were designer and wouldn’t fit in with the poor lifestyle I was faking, so I left them here.
A normal father would’ve dropped it at that, but not mine. He narrowed his eyes and began scouring the apartment for something out of place.
I didn’t say anything while I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and took a drink.
He wouldn’t find anything. I covered my tracks.
That, and I had a deal with my current tenant.
As long as nothing was moved out or in, then Ben would remain the only burger flipper to live in a penthouse. I was fine.
At least that’s what I thought until he came out from one of the back rooms and dropped a piece of mail on the counter.
“Care to explain that.”
I looked down at the name displayed on the envelope. Benjamin Thatcher. Looks like good old Ben wasn’t going to have cheap rent anymore.
“What the fuck is going on Vahn?”
There was no getting out of this now. “It’s not a big deal, I’ve been staying with some friends. It’s closer to campus.”
“Campus is a block away Vahn.” He waved his hand at the window. “I can see it from here.”
Yeah, that was a bad lie. “It’s also full of rich assholes.”
My father’s brow arched. “You’re a rich asshole, or did you forget about your trust fund?”
“The other kids on campus don’t need to know that.”
Now he was getting suspicious. His eyes narrowed in that I know you’re hiding something look. “Why would it matter?”
“It doesn’t. But it’s a pain in the ass when people are fawning all over you because you have money.”
That wasn’t a lie.
My dad’s eyes narrowed further. “Is this about a girl?”
“What? No.” Not entirely.
“Vahn,” he warned. “You have a contract with Trina…”
“There’s no girl.” I sighed and calmed my tone. “Look, you said I had four years to do what I wanted. This is what I want.”
He studied me for a second before grumbling, “Fine, I’ll let this go for now.” He lifted his hand and pointed at me. “But I want to meet these friends of yours when I’m in town next week.”
That couldn’t happen. “They’re busy people…”
“I don’t give a shit.” He cut me off. “Either you show up with your friends next week, or your ass is coming home.”