Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“They say our past defines our future.
I hope it’s not true.
For my past is hideous and can destroy any future.”
Lavender
Lavender
When Gordon parks the car near the library, I open the door and climb outside, grabbing my purse and the muffin bag.
At least one good thing came out of this disastrous encounter today.
I’ll have something tasty to eat while avoiding my family for hours by pretending to be busy.
“Thanks,” I say, and muster up a smile. “You can go. I’ll catch a cab on my way back home. ”
“No, Miss Wright. Just give me a call once you’re done.” He winks at me while I just groan inwardly since this man takes his babysitting duties seriously. “I’ll be here right away.”
Sometimes I wonder what my brothers told him about me that makes him hover over me like some kind of mother hen, expecting me to screw up and fall on my face.
“Okay,” I mutter and shut the door, spinning around and marching toward the library’s entrance, where a group of people hangs out already, consisting of three boys and two girls who twirl their hair as they laugh at whatever one of the guys says.
Judging by their backpacks and heavy book stacks on their hands, they must be students since our university is just twenty minutes away from here.
On instinct, my shoulders hunch, and I look at my leather boots, thumping soundly on the asphalt as dark clouds gather and threaten to pour heavy rain on us all.
Soaking under it sounds very appealing at this moment, so they wouldn’t stare at me but would run away to shield themselves from nature’s swinging moods.
All the temperature changes give me whiplash lately.
Speeding up my pace, I intend to quickly walk past them, only to freeze when one of them calls my name.
“Lavender!” My gaze shoots to a tall guy, wearing jeans and a leather jacket along with a shirt that fits him like a second skin.
His dark hair and green eyes give him a rather dashing look, making all the girls around him fawn and gawk at him in the most awkward of ways.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?
” It doesn’t escape my notice that his friends give me a double take. I have to give them credit, though.
They do their best not to stare at my scars, which can’t be missed now since I put my hair up in a ponytail.
He steps forward and extends his hand to me. “I’m Von. We met at Rush and Aileen’s engagement party.”
That’s when the recognition hits me.
Von Campbell, Eudard “Madman” Campbell’s son, who happens to be Rush’s friend.
I find all of Rush’s friends ruthless and rather cruel, but their saving grace is how much they love and adore their families, which should be disturbing because they are all…
Nope, not thinking about my brother’s dark past that resulted in him becoming a part of a society full of vices due to how they choose to extinguish their demons. Still not sure what they do and how, I just know it must be something illegal and dangerous.
I shake his hand. “Hi. Nice to see you again.”
He used to be a professional ice skater before his fatal injury that put an end to his sports career. So he discovered his next passion—drumming—and started a band with his three friends. Last time I checked, they had over five million followers across all socials, and their fans adore them.
What’s not to like, right?
Handsome, wealthy, talented, and kind.
“You too. What are you doing here?” He motions with his head toward the library. “Looking for something to read?”
Gripping my purse tighter while squeezing the muffin bag since his whole gang focuses on me after this question, I nod. “I work here.” His brow shoots up, so I elaborate. “I think we study at the same university, and I volunteer here from time to time.”
“Admirable. Volunteering at this hole filled with dust and desperately bored people is truly worthy of praise,” one of the guys says from behind him, and winks at me when he comes closer.
I recognize him as the band’s vocalist. Recently, he made headlines after being caught in the bathroom with two of his groupies, sparking quite a scandal.
A few fans even boycotted their recent song.
His voice is considered a gift from the gods for its pure yet sinister tone. “What are you majoring in?”
“Mythological studies.”
The vocalist blinks, humor flickering in his gray eyes that match his shoulder-length blond hair so well. “There isn’t much money in that, darling.” He clicks his tongue and scans me from head to toe. “Unless you’re independently wealthy?”
Before I can answer his blunt question, which isn’t that surprising, given his character judging the gossip on social media channels, Von slaps him on the shoulder and pushes him away.
“Watch it, Kane.” A warning laces his tone, and his friend raises his hands, backing away, but not before blowing me a kiss.
He shifts his attention back to the girls, who give me an awkward wave.
This whole situation is so bizarre that I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to react to it. On most days, everyone either avoids me or pretends I don’t exist because my scars scare them off.
Not to mention my age, having turned thirty when most of them aren’t even twenty also puts the brakes on forming any friendships in college. Not that I blame anyone. Why would teenagers be friends with grown adults?
Even if the said adult got her life frozen at eighteen.
“Let me know if you need any help, Lavender.” Von’s voice brings me back to the situation at hand. “I’m majoring in business but minoring in mythological studies.”
“Why?” Business, I can understand, since his family has a billion-dollar empire and owns a freaking town, but a minor in something that’s not useful in either of his careers seems like a waste of time. He writes the music for their band while Kane is the main lyricist.
“There is a lot to learn from it. Wouldn’t you say?” A half smile tips his mouth. “Gods and goddesses gave us clues about humankind and its greed. It would have been such a waste to forget about all their lessons.”
“Well—” Whatever I want to say next gets interrupted when a loud roaring rings in the air, making the crows hanging on the nearby tree fly up high as another thunder rocks the sky, the environment around us darkening instantly. We both turn our heads toward the road.
My eyes widen as the two men roll their identical motorcycles into the library parking lot, their black machines glistening and showcasing their magnificent design, which must cost a fortune, given how rare they are.
The two riders sit up, turning off the engines and simultaneously throwing their legs over the side.
Hopping off, their boots thump soundly on the ground, and matching with another booming thunder, create a sizzling, sinister energy around them that makes it impossible to look away, even though I really want to.
Because no two men have ever confused me more than they have.
They are both tall, probably above six-foot-five, since I have to crank my neck when I’m near them, and the tip of my head barely reaches their shoulders.
Their muscular physiques are wrapped in black leather jackets and T-shirts and jeans, but when they finally remove their helmets, all similarities end, and their differences begin.
My attention focuses on the one on the left as he shakes his dark hair falling below his ears, raking his fingers through it.
At the same time, his emerald-green eyes scan the environment as if leaving invisible imprints everywhere, marking his territory and warning everyone not to cross him, for the consequences might be severe.
After all, his family name and temper are legendary, giving him the kind of power that few people possess in this world. However, they all dream of having it.
Intelligent, rich, ruthless, and cunning, with no mercy for the weak, are just a few adjectives describing his character, which, according to rumors, promises to perpetuate the family dynasty as he takes after his great-great-grandfather, who built their empire.
And recently, a rebel for clashing with his father.
Despite his clothes, sophistication and class ooze from him, and a chuckle slips past his lips, showcasing a dimple on his right cheek that only adds to his handsomeness and charm that make even the most shy women lose their minds around him.
A light scar above his upper lip gives him an even more intense look, promising all kinds of wickedness but only for a short while.
He’s an honest heartbreaker, and everyone knows not to get attached to him because his heart always stays dead cold.
Love, commitment, adoration.
They simply don’t exist in this man’s vocabulary.
“Oh my God,” one of the girls from behind me whispers as he hangs his helmet on the handlebar, saluting Von and Kane, who lift their chins in his direction. “He’s gorgeous.”
“That’s Wyatt King,” another one replies. My stomach flips at the awe in her voice, leaving me uneasy when she adds, “Wait until you see his best friend.”
Inwardly preparing myself for the familiar unexplainable ache urging me to hide somewhere far away from him, I gasp when my gaze shifts to the man on the right, who unhooks the straps of his helmet and removes it, placing it on the motorcycle.
His blond hair falls just above his shoulders, and he gathers it into a man bun, leaving a few strands loose.
It accentuates his tan skin and draws attention to his high cheekbones, creating almost perfect symmetry on his face, making him a human representation of an ideal sculpture many artists would love to carve.
His mouth, with full lips, tips into a half smile when he glances at Wyatt, but the smile causes even greater uneasiness among those around him because there is a certain darkness surrounding him.
It’s seductive and destructive at the same time, and very few want to test the boundaries he sets around himself.