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“Master Alec!” Damien’s voice cuts through my thoughts for the second time. “You’re distracted again.”
Before I can respond, the phone in Damien’s hand rings. When he peers at the screen with alarm in his eyes, I already know who the caller is.
“Hang up,” I say.
“What?” Damien shrieks. “I cannot do that.”
“Why is she calling you and not me?” I whine, feeling cornered. I’ve been ignoring her calls for a week now, and I expect she understands it’s because I don’t want to speak to her.
“I’m taking the call,” Damien says. “Sorry, Master Alec.” He swipes on the screen and hits the speaker button.
“Damien.” My mother’s voice is sharp and confident, as always. “Where is my son?”
Damien glances at me, and I release a deep breath. “I’m here, Mother.”
“Alec!” She takes on a scolding tone. “You have been ignoring my calls.”
“Yes.”
She scoffs, and instead of asking why, she says, “You are expected home in two weeks. I’m sure you know how important it is that you make it.”
Two weeks. Home. Nowhere feels like home anymore, especially not with my parents. As the heir to the Ace conglomerate, I live a carefully outlined life. The Ace conglomerate is a business enterprise owned by my parents and is worth seven billion dollars. They’re headquartered in France, but they have branches worldwide. Since I was a child, I’ve been raised as the heir. I was primarily homeschooled, and a tutor came in four times a week to teach me everything about business.
At eighteen years old, I was accompanying my father to business meetings and making small-scale decisions concerning the business. At twenty years old, I was burned out and exhausted. I had no friends except Damien, who grew up with me. I wanted to go to college and live a normal life, but it took another two years to convince my parents to accept it, and they only agreed to let me go if I studied business.
I didn’t care what I studied; I just wanted to leave home and be with other kids my age. When I told them of my decision to attend NYU, they didn’t understand why I wanted to leave France, but my sanity was at stake. That was where I met Riley.
In France, my family ruled the business world, and I was a public figure. In the US, not so much. I was only twenty-two and had no interpersonal skills, so no one wanted to be my friend until Riley. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t know the power my last name held, yet he loved and treated me like a brother.
I enjoyed a normal relationship with Riley; unlike those back in France who kissed the ground I walked on; Riley treated me as an equal. He openly disagreed with me, insulted me, laughed with me, and just grounded me beyond the life I had known for twenty years. I was supposed to return permanently to France after my college education, but I’ve been unable to say goodbye to New York, the city where I could be myself.
My family isn’t too happy about this, especially my father, who thinks it’s time I take over so he can retire.
“Alec Ace de Courcillon Lionheart!” My mother growls. “Are you listening to me?”
When she says my whole name like that, it’s a sure sign of upset, which means it’s time to get off the phone. “I have heard you, Mother. I have to go now. Talk to you later.”
She starts to speak, but I hang up the phone and hand it back to Damien. “Are you okay, Master Alec?”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap at Damien, getting off the couch and marching into the privacy of my room. I’m in a sour mood,— talking to my mother does that to me. I love her so much, but my parents’ desire for control irks me in the worst way possible.
I grab my phone from the bed and pull up Jasmine’s phone number. I’ve had it for three years and have never called or texted once. I’m tempted now, though I know it’s a bad idea. There’s no space for frivolities in my life, even when it comes in the form of a five-foot-three bombshell who makes my heart race. I fall on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while trying to convince myself that calling Jasmine isn’t such a bad idea.
Chapter three
Jasmine
“I hate this show,” Riley whines., sprawled on the opposite couch. “You’ve been watching for one hour; when will it end?”
“Can you stop whining and leave me alone?” I roll my eyes at him. “If you don’t like it, no one is forcing you to watch.”
“I want to watch my basketball game,” he replies. “Not this cheesy, fake show.”
“You have a television in your room,” I laugh.
“And so do you!”
“This screen is bigger.”
