Page 77 of Vexatious Queen

Dad lunged, but Dean Henry and Marcus held him back.

“Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. If you had your way, she never would’ve existed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave and never show your face here again.”

Vadin turned and left without another word.

I still had so many questions concerning Vadin Mikhailov. All I’d found said he was a ruthless monster with a horrible reputation. Had he sent the men to kill my mother? Was he why Aunt Nadia was so scared? Did he really regret his actions, or was that just a ploy to get close to me?

My thirst for information was as strong as the warnings to stay away.

Dad locked eyes with me as Marcus and Dean Henry released him. He straightened his suit, walked over, and placed his hand on my shoulder. I could feel him trembling.

“I’m sorry for charging in here like I have and making a scene. I should’ve handled this situation better. But no matter what Vadin says to you, you cannot trust him. Don’t let him get in your head. He’s a snake and as dangerous as any viper. He wants something, and it’s not good.”

Dad turned to Nash.

“Keep her safe. With Vadin here, Christov is the least of our worries,” he said low enough for only us to hear.

“Mr. Genovese,” Dean Henry prompted.

“We’ll talk more about this later.”

With that, he turned and disappeared inside the office.

“Well, I guess that secret is out,” Myles said.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

“I’m going to assume you never told him about the painting,” Nash asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“No, I hadn’t yet,” I admitted.

“Guess, I’m not the only one that keeps secrets,” he said, and I glared at him, but he did have a point. Shit.

“I guess not. So much for a drama-free week,” I mumbled, under my breath.

As I turned around to face the guys, Sabastian caught my eye. He stood alone in the doorway to the cafeteria. His face was as dejected as Vicky’s had been. He stared at me and shook his head.

Great…just great.

JANUARY 27 – TUESDAY 1:11 PM

Edmundo

“Iknow what you’re going to say,” I said as Paul closed me in with him.

“No, I really don’t think you do,” he snarled at me as he marched around his desk and yanked open a drawer, revealing a bottle of whiskey. “What the hell was that?”

He poured himself a shot and drank it down before hitting me with his glare.

“Are you going to give me one of those?”

“I’m debating. I don’t like you at the moment. Fucking guns in my school,” Paul said, shaking his head. “I’ve always treated you as my friend, and given you far more information than I should. And this…this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“Are you?”

He shook his head again and grabbed another glass. Pouring two drinks, he walked over to the desk and sat down.