Chapter 2
Two
Brooks
My cock strained against my pants as I walked away from the greenhouse. I adjusted myself, trying to calm it down. It didn’t cooperate.
Pinning Daphne against the wall had made me want to fuck her right there.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Control, Brooks.
It was something I usually had plenty of until Daphne was around.
I dropped onto a bench in the courtyard and stretched my legs out, waiting while she fought with the gum tangled in her hair. I popped another piece in my mouth.
A First Benefactor had donated this bench. Some billionaire who’d also been a major player in the ’90s opioid epidemic. Saint Vale loved honoring their monsters.
The university sat tucked away in Westchester, New York, far from the public eye. A cloister wall hid the world beyond Saint Vale.
That was intentional.
Keep outsiders away. Keep our secrets in.
Ivy crawled over the ancient stone, making the place look peaceful.
What a fucking lie.
After a minute of fighting with the gum, Daphne gave up and stomped toward the dorms.
I waited until she disappeared from my sight, then headed toward my private entrance into the building.
My phone vibrated when I reached the door. I dug it from my pocket to find a text.
Enzo: We have a problem, you goddamn procrastinator.
Before I could reply, another text came through.
Enzo: I’m walking Blair back to my dorm and will be at yours in 15. Be there, motherfucker.
The asshole had become demanding lately.
I headed down the corridor leading to my private wing. Being the president’s son had its perks.
A private dorm was one of them. No one but me and a select few people had access.
Two Secret Service agents were outside my room.
Philip leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone.
Bruce stood by my door, his black boot braced against it. He stared down the corridor, expression blank, like protecting me was draining his soul.
It wasn’t like they had to do much. I ditched my detail whenever possible.
“You can head out,” I told them.
Bruce dropped his foot, nodded, and they both left through the steel gate.
The stench of weed hung in the air when I unlocked my dorm and walked inside. I flipped on the lights and sat behind my desk.
This was my senior year at Saint Vale. After this, law school. A job at a top firm. Senate. Then the White House.
My fifteen-year plan.
After graduation, I’d become an Elder Son. I always hated how geriatric that sounded.
The Byrons had been Night Sons for generations. Enzo and the other Mafia heirs were new blood. Outsiders.
Bringing them in had been my father’s idea. According to him, we had men in power everywhere except one place.
Kings of the underworld.
Enter the Marchettis and Lombardis.
I pulled one of my law books toward me, flipped it open, then shut the fucking thing again.
Studying wasn’t an option when Daphne took over my brain.
Daphne Kenward had been a nuisance since she had moved to the States at fourteen and attached herself to my younger sister.
She talked too much. Asked too many questions. Used to poke my side when she passed me on the staircase.
Then she got older.
My sister’s irritating best friend stopped feeling so irritating. Or maybe she was still irritating. I just wanted to fuck her now.
I liked seeing her. Enjoyed her little pokes. Started noticing every fucking man who looked at her a little too long.
I tried to fight my attraction to her, but call me the Roman Empire because I always lost.
At night, I’d lie in bed, imagining her under me. Bent over in front of me. On top of me. Riding my cock. Moaning my name.
My entire life ran on optics, control, and strategy. Fucking my sister’s best friend fit none of those.
Still didn’t stop me from wanting her.
After I fucked her in the Oval Office, my obsession only got worse. Then her father tried to have mine killed. That should’ve put a bullet through the stupid fucking obsession, but it didn’t.
My mom and sister had forgiven Daphne and her mother. They claimed her father was the only one to blame.
Great for them. I’m not built to forgive.
When your father was the president of the United States, trust wasn’t something you handed out twice. In my experience, people either wanted to shake our hands or put a bullet through our heads.
I propped my foot up on my desk and scrolled through the latest headlines about myself. Most were bullshit.
One claimed I was secretly engaged to a senator’s daughter I’d never fucking met. When I got tired of reading lies about myself, I opened the secure Night Sons platform.
I logged in with my credentials, scanned my face, then entered my passcode. The second I was in, a notification popped up on my screen.
Fawn Prospect Chosen: Daphne Kenward.
I read her name again.
Who the fuck had a death wish?
Every year, each Night Son chose a female student as their Fawn.
What we did with them depended on the Son. They could be a sanctuary. A possession. A Pawn. A sacrifice. Sometimes all four.
The tradition had started because Sons had become too difficult to control. Powerful men needed distractions.
The best distraction? Women.
Fawns were supposed to keep us sane. Focused. Stop us from burning the fucking world down.
And now, Cory, a Prospect Son, had selected Daphne.
My teeth ground into the gum until cinnamon burned into my tongue.
I should’ve listened to Enzo.
That had to be why he’d texted me. He’d told me for weeks that if I didn’t claim Daphne myself, someone else would.
I opened Cory’s Fawn Selection request and read it.
Then reread it.
I finally did throw my phone across the room.
No one else was allowed to choose Daphne but me.
Hunting Cory down and beating him unconscious sounded like a great fucking idea. Too bad it was strategically stupid.
Cory being from her home country, Calira, made it worse. She was their fucking princess, and he was the Prime Minister’s son. If she became his Fawn, there was a chance they’d become more.
Some Sons ended up marrying their Fawns. My parents were proof.
A knock interrupted my murderous thoughts. I answered the door to find Enzo with both hands balled into fists, like he was debating whether to put one through my face.
The Sons had rules about fighting. If we had a dispute, we each got one punch.
“You fucked up.” He stalked inside, knocking his shoulder into mine.
I slammed the door behind him. “I told you I was going to handle it.”
“I told you to do it earlier, and you didn’t fucking listen.”
Enzo had been on my ass about choosing a Fawn ever since he fell in love with his. Which was exactly why I’d dragged my feet on it. I’d already made the mistake of falling for Daphne once, and I wasn’t doing that shit twice. Especially because I planned to become president.
Falling for the daughter of a traitor to the country would ruin any chance of that. I needed a safe wife. Someone polished and boring enough that the media had nothing negative to say about her. Basically, the complete opposite of Daphne.
“You made a deal.” Enzo leaned one shoulder against the wall. The bastard’s eyes were so dark they looked like two black holes. “You broke it.”
That deal came after I’d stabbed Cory’s twin, Peter, to death in his dorm. The now-dead idiot had shown me videos of Daphne giving him a striptease, and I’d lost my fucking mind. Enzo and Emeri helped me clean up the mess and get rid of the body.
In exchange, Enzo made me promise to select Daphne as my Fawn. He’d claimed she’d calm me. He didn’t know shit. Daphne hadn’t calmed me a day in my life.
I sat on the edge of my desk. “It appears Daphne is no longer an available option for me.”
He glared at me. “Nice try, fucking idiot.”
“Rules are rules. You can’t steal a Fawn.”
“You’re right.” Enzo shrugged. “Cory can have her.”
I sat taller, not believing for one fucking second he’d given in that easily. I’d once watched him torture a man for twelve hours until he got the answers he wanted. The fucker had patience.
“Cory will touch her.” He pushed himself off the wall. “He’ll fuck her. Hell, she’ll definitely give him more than a boring striptease.”
I curled my fingers around the edge of the desk.
“He’ll probably marry her.” Enzo grabbed my worn copy of The Federalist Papers and casually flipped through it.
“They’re both Caliran. She’s their princess.
I’m sure everyone back home would fucking love it.
” He turned another page. “Wait until you have to sit there and watch her Initiation, knowing she’ll belong to another Son.
” Another page flipped. “That should be fun for you.”
I stood and drove my fist through the wall. Drywall splintered around my hand. Enzo didn’t even flinch, only kept flipping through the pages.
I ripped my hand free and flexed my throbbing fingers. “How do we fix this then?”
“There’s no fix. The kid gets her. Though, he isn’t a kid. He’ll do very adult things with her.” He finally slammed the book shut and pointed it at me. “And don’t do anything stupid. I’m not covering up another murder because you’re too pussy to admit you want your sister’s friend.”
I looked down at my knuckles. Four were split open.
“We already have to make sure Cory doesn’t find out we killed his brother,” Enzo added.
“That secret is safe. You won’t talk. I won’t talk. Emeri won’t talk.”
“You’re forgetting your little obsession knows.”
Ah, yes.
Daphne had researched Blair when she came to SVU. Once that girl wanted to know something, your privacy was fucked. Somewhere in that digging, she’d learned I killed Peter.
She’d never ratted me out for it, and I knew she never would.
“What if she tells her Son we killed his brother and—” Enzo started.
I talked over him, “She fucking won’t.”
“You sound awfully confident for someone who claims to hate her.” He popped his neck. “Admit you want her, Brooks.”
I picked pieces of drywall from my knuckle instead of answering him. I wasn’t admitting to shit.
“Fine, if you don’t want her, then I’ll let you off the hook for our deal.”
I looked up from my hand. “Really?”