by Lannah Smith
His lips pulled back as he slid his gaze to her. He noticed her eyes weren't blank anymore, no. He couldn't read the emotion in it. Regret? Longing? He didn't fucking care.
"She didn't seem all too happy with you. I hope you didn't anger our host, John."
He cocked his head. "And whose fault do you think that is?"
Her eyes tightened. "Son—"
"Whose fucking fault is it, Mother?"
"Language," she hissed. "How many drinks have you had? Are you drunk?"
When she tried to touch him, he shrank away from her and took a step back, shaking his head furiously.
"Don't touch me," he muttered darkly. "Do not fucking touch me."
"John—"
"She didn't seem happy to you, did she? You think after what I did to her, she'd be happy around me?"
"Lower your voice," she clipped.
He snarled, "You think after what you made me do, she'd be fucking thrilled to have my company?"
"I said language! There are people watching."
His bitter laugh made her flinch. "Of course you would care that people are watching."
Her fingers tightened around her glass but her expression was stolid as she stared at his face. "Let's not do this here, John."
"What?" He laughed again. "What do you think am I going to do? Scream at you while I demand the reasons you've withheld from me when you gave me that fucking task? Because I never understood why, Mother. I could have had both of them but you damn made sure I only got one."
"John, please. Don't create a scene."
For fuck's sake, what was his mother made of?
Because she was as emotionless and as apathetic as a mother could be to her own son's personal hell.
His mother's arms were folded loosely before him, hands cupping her elbows, her glass dangling dangerously from her fingers, and she stared at him with lips pressed together.
His mother, who he never had known that well.
His mother, who he never had received anything that was personal.
To this day, John never knew what her favorite color was, or what food she liked to eat when she's sick, or if she'd ever been sick. He never knew what her hobbies were or if she even had them, and he never knew what it is that makes her happy, that makes her smile or laugh.
It wasn't his fault.
His mother never let him know, refused to give anything that was mother-like to him. And it made him resent her deeply.
He definitely shouldn't have come.
John pulled in a deep breath and said, "I'm not going to make a scene here, Mother. I've ruined a lot of things for Terry Evans. I'm not going to add the party she worked so hard for to the damn list."
He tossed back his drink and touched his glass to his brow in a mocking salute.
"You and Father will get your perfect son tonight. Not because that's what you wanted. Not because I give a fuck about the people in this room. But because of her."
"Is she really worth this, John?" his mother asked him quietly.
She was fucking worth it and more.
He didn't bother to respond. He took a step out of the pillar and stared at the crowd for a brief moment.
Then it was show time.
◆◆◆
Haru never left my side again. We entertained the guests side by side. People praised us, saying how close we siblings were and how we both we're remarkable. Haru humbly accepted their compliments while I smiled. But when their backs were turned, Haru would laugh low and say what shams they were.
"Learn from this, Terry," he muttered to me when the orchestra played and took everyone's full attention. "The same people cozying up to us now will be the same people who will turn their backs on us once we sink."
"I know, Oniisan," I muttered back. "And I know you've worked hard to make the company grow and thrive."
"It's smart of you to notice."
I pressed my lips together and continued watching the orchestra.
What I said wasn't flattery. Despite being a horrid brother I couldn't deny how brilliant and capable he was. From a young age he's been studying and learning about the business. He hardly had time for play.
I could not remember the last time he was like a real brother to me, caring, loving, and kind. But I knew there was a time when I adored him. He just made it harder to remember when he always treated me so poorly.
"Well, well, well," Haru muttered with a small laugh. "Look at the Steele's young heir."
It was the way he said it that made me turn to look.
John was standing across the ballroom. He had attracted a crowd, mostly the VIPs of the party, something he used to do when we were little. Even from the distance I could hear the gentle timbre of his voice while formal language slipped off effortlessly from his tongue, practically second nature to him. The way he held himself, tall, proud and regal, it was as if he had never left the fold.
He was impressive.
Remarkable.
I could hardly believe that the forceful brute who'd dragged me out to the balcony was this charming, sophisticated male who was engaging the people around him with a devastating smile. Animated conversations and bursts of laughter swirled around him. His father was beside him, looking proud. His wife, however, was nowhere in sight. Dad was also there, talking animatedly with him. He had always been fond of John.
Hopeless girls were giggling around the edge of the crowd, offering blatant invitations with their eyes, obviously enchanted by him.
It annoyed me.
It annoyed me to see him be amiable to them. But what annoyed me the most was knowing I could have his attention all to myself if I simply asked.
You're the only girl I see, Terry.
Somehow, I knew he was telling the truth. Even though my brain was screaming at me, telling me this was another one of his lies, I knew in my heart that he wasn't lying.
"He's actually being the dutiful son tonight. And I wonder what the reason could be for this performance," Haru mused.
I pursed my lips. "It's his duty—"
"Since when did John start caring about his duties?"
"Did you forget how he was years ago?"
A wry, cynical smile curved Haru's lips. "Ah, but you said it yourself. Years ago. And besides, it's not a secret he's become rather wild in the last years."
I stared coolly off into the direction of the orchestra. I wasn't inclined to be provoked into another conversation about John. Haru smirked and surprisingly, he left me alone to my thoughts. Dad joined us soon after and Haru took it as his cue to leave, muttering that he had something to check with the staff.
The party was coming to a close as the evening approached its climax. Some had already taken their leave yet many people still continued to mill about. All I could think about was going to bed. Resisting the impulse to cast discreet glances John's way, I concentrated on thoughts of a hot, soothing bath before going to bed, possibly waking up late the next day. With Haru gone and Dad leaving for Europe, I had the house to all myself and no one to answer to.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"I hope that's the last glass of wine you'll have tonight, Dad," I reminded Dad quietly as we watched the couples swaying on the dance floor. "Think about your blood pressure."
"Of course, dear," he returned with a grin. "Can't have my beautiful daughter worrying about me."
I smiled at him. "I'll always worry over you, Dad."
Dad patted my shoulder fondly. Then his gaze slid over my shoulder and his expression turned pleased.
"John," he said and I felt a sinking feeling invade my limbs.
John's voice rumbled quietly beside me. "Hello, sir."
I focused on my father's black jacket and focused on breathing properly.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Dad asked.
"If I may, I'd like to ask your daughter to dance."
Dad turned ecstatic eyes on me. "Terry?"
I could not refuse. The look of delight on
his face was enough to make me concede to the dance.
Dang it.
Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
Taking in a deep breath, I looked up and found green eyes staring at me.
"Would you care to dance, Terry?"
Terry. Not Evans. Not even Yukiko.
My face must have given away the disgruntled confusion I was feeling because his brow rose challengingly.
Pulling in another breath, I gave him a small nod. He held out his hand and I let mine be engulfed in his, though I was careful not to let him see the fading scars on my palms. The first touch was electric, like my skin recognized who it was and was stimulated. I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding and a ghost of a smile flitted across his lips.
Leading me to the dance floor, he grasped my hand with his right and rested his left on my waist. I was careful from then on to keep my expression composed and not look directly at him. The noise seemed to have dimmed and I had a feeling everyone in the room was looking at us. I felt very much like the focal point of a science fair and it didn't help decrease the stress I was feeling.
And then we were moving.
He swept me into his arms and whirled me around and around. I could hardly concentrate on the dance because the only thing I could concentrate on was the feeling of being held in his arms.
He didn't speak and neither did I and I was thankful for it. His hand seemed to burn through my dress, branding me and making my heart fluttering a mad tune. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Haru watching. His eyes flashed with displeasure and my breath hitched when I remembered his warning.
Suddenly, John's arms tightened around me and I let out a soft gasp. I glanced up and met his eyes, which was a mistake because those eyes of his seemed to suck me in. I could no longer look away.
"Tell your brother something for me, will you Evans?"
I started at his voice and stammered out a, "What?"
He spun us around for one more time before he led us to the edge of the floor. The song was ending and with it the dance. Once there, he let me go. Then he leaned into my ear and I held my breath.
"Tell your brother he can go to hell."
And with that, he gave me a bow and walked out of the ballroom.
Chapter 19
Three years ago, John and Leon at age thirteen
There were thundering footsteps on the staircase. There were obnoxious laughter, angry voices and some whimpering, followed by loud bangs and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
John looked up from his comic, distracted by all the noise. Beside him, lying beneath the tree, was his best friend, Leon.
Leon, who due to some events, came to East Private School a year after John did. Reunited once more, teachers were dismayed when model student John turned into a slacker and became unreasonable. They blamed cold and unapproachable Leon for this but when it only served to anger John, they stopped and paid no more attention on them.
Now at thirteen, the two boys were barely acknowledged for their existence. And since they were put into the recently established special building for their promise, Leon being a mathematical and scientific genius and John being an intelligent and exceptional boy as well, it was rare for the whole school to see them. Though they were distant and closed-off, they somehow still managed to gather admirers for the two boys were very good-looking.
"Stop it," John heard a voice say.
"Stop it," a mocking voice repeated before there was laughter once more.
More steps sounded and a group of three boys dragging another burst out of the stairwell and into the back of the school building. That part of the school was a restricted area so it was no wonder they took no care in hiding their noise.
Unconcerned, John returned to his comic. He was unfeeling and pitiless to everyone who wasn't his best friend. Then he felt Leon shift beside him. Leon had sat up from his position, his eyes focused and alert. Curious at this sudden attentiveness, John looked at where he was looking.
The three boys who looked like they were a year or two older than them was harassing the puny boy they had dragged outside. One of the boys pushed the smaller boy against the wall and told his buddies, "Did you hear? This ugly kid confessed to April."
His friends burst into snickers. "April Locke, the school beauty, was confessed to by this animal? Disgusting."
Realization dawned on John and he focused on the small boy cornered by these jerks. He remembered him now. He was Christopher Lawrence, only heir of one of the oldest and richest families in town. His parents had died when he was small and he was being taken care of by his grandparents. He also used to be homeschooled.
John was present when two months into the school year, Christopher confronted April Locke in the cafeteria and told her he liked him. He was also present when April told him outright that he sickened her before she rejected him cruelly.
The boy holding Christopher began to hit him on the head. "What went in there, I wonder? Did you really think April would say yes to the likes of you?"
"What a loser."
"He actually dreamed of being her boyfriend. Pathetic."
The boys started to strike him and John returned to his comic. It wasn't his business and was uninterested. However, Leon clearly thought it was his when he shot up and strode towards them, his hands clenched tightly into fists.
With a sigh, John closed his comic and laid it on the ground. He stood up, dusted his clothes and began to follow him.
"Let him go," Leon said in a low threatening voice.
"Who's this loser?" one of the boys muttered.
"Fuck off if you don't want to be hit, kid."
Leon looked unfazed. "I'm feeling generous so I'll give you all two hits. Me hitting you. And you hitting the ground."
"We said fuck off!"
The tallest of them started for him but Leon was ready. He grabbed his fist, twisted his arm back and shoved him to the ground.
"What are you doing?" his buddy pulled him up in impatience. "Are you going to let him run his stupid mouth?"
They gathered around Leon, ugly scowls on their face, ready to beat him. Leon only looked bored. John, who had taken his time, stopped beside Leon and looked at them.
"Three versus one?" he spoke. "Hardly fair, is it?"
Their heads snapped towards him. John raised his brow and they visibly blanched. Without a word, they rushed away, falling all over themselves in their hurry to get away. Christopher was still on the ground and Leon proffered a hand to help him stand up. But to John's annoyance, he swatted his best friend's hand away. He stood up from the ground on his own, glaring at them.
"I didn't need your help," he grumbled.
John bristled in annoyance.
Ungrateful moron.
"I didn't do it for you," Leon said tersely.
"Just walk away next time, you hear?"
"And I don't take orders from you."
"Easy." John stood in the middle of them, putting his hands up. He could barely hide his surprise. The kid was actually standing up against Leon. "He's hurt, Leon. Though I'd like to beat his stupid ass down, let's not waste our energy on him. He's not a worthy opponent."
"What, because I'm weak?" Christopher responded angrily. "I'm small? I'm pathetic? I'm an easy target for bullies?"
"Yes," John agreed empathetically.
"Piss off!"
Leon grew silent. At length he exhaled and suddenly grabbed Christopher by the arm.
"Let's go," he said as he started to drag the struggling boy behind him. "We're leaving."
Startled, John asked, "Where are we going with the dwarf?"
Leon looked over his shoulder and answered him, "To make sure he doesn't need helping anymore."
I read the last line I wrote then concluded the paragraph. When that was done, I closed the workbook and stood up to give it to the teacher. As usual, I was the first among my classmates to complete the task and the teacher was too used to it to be impressed anymore.
&n
bsp; "Can you please take these files to the faculty while we wait for your classmates to finish, please?" the teacher said as she handed me her teacher files.
"Sure," I replied.
She smiled, though it was tremulous and she was staring at me in a strange way. I gritted my teeth. I knew what she was thinking. It had been all over school, though it had abated over the week.
