Page 2 of The Family Pet

Jury frowned, and even though it was dark, he was lit up by the bright violet neon that carved out the letters Black Out in the sign plastered above the door on the brick building. He looked like an angel, and I was his complete opposite—a fucking devil disguised as a human. I didn’t think I was better than everyone else, I knew I was.

“I can call you an Uber,” he said.

I snorted. “Fuck. That.” After flipping him the middle finger, I spun on my heel and stumbled down the sidewalk, ignoring Jury calling my name. He wouldn’t follow me, though. He knew I wanted to be left alone, so he would do that, which was why we were friends.

Out of everyone in the world, Jury and Judge knew me best. Unlike my father, their papa and dad weren’t dicks, though, and they treated Jury and Judge with respect I could only wish for. It was as if my dad personally blamed me for every shitty thing happening in his life, including his brother running off with lots of money from their friends.

I grumbled, lava-hot anger thrumming through my veins. As I passed a small bistro with a blackboard stand out front, I kicked the sign, making it clatter to the sidewalk. One of the servers came running out, but I gave him the bird before speeding off as fast as my wobbly legs would take me. I turned onto a different street, not paying much attention, and kept walking.

I had no idea how much time had gone by, but I was cold and nearly tripped over my own feet the moment my gaze connected with Saint, my cousin, and the son of my uncle who’d disappeared. Fury pulsed in my veins and the inebriation sloshing inside me faded as I focused on the man whose family had fucked over mine. The worst part was that the asshole looked exactly like the last time I’d seen him.

Saint had always been handsome, with an angular face and a dimple in his chin. He had short dark hair at the sides of his head and the cut was longer on the top, and he’d styled the gleaming strands in a way that fit his fastidious attitude. My cousin appeared as trendy as he’d always been, except for one thing—he was wearing a server’s uniform.

I frowned.

What. The. Fuck?

On the other side of the glass I was looking through, there was a nice restaurant decorated in white, cream, and gold, with a wooden bar in the center of the room. It had high ceilings painted with thick cream-and-white stripes, and navy diamond-shaped designs made the carpet eye-catching. The diners wore suits and sleek dresses, and some were familiar faces. It took my intoxicated brain far too long to recognize La Jolie Fille, a French-inspired, “high-class” dining experience—as if anything in New Gothenburg qualified.

Saint had his back to me now, smiling nervously down at Alton Bouchard, one of the few billionaires in town, as he took Alton’s order on an electronic tablet. He laughed at something Alton said before he nodded at both Alton and Alton’s husband, and then Saint left, rushing toward the kitchen area.

I watched, shivering in the chilly, late winter wind while confusion swirled in my mind. Was I seeing things? No, that was definitely Saint. But what was he doing? Like me, he’d grown up on Vert Island until his parents had taken off. I’d assumed he went with them, but here he was. . . working.

My feet moved before I knew what I was doing, and I walked around the corner onto the next street toward the entrance of the restaurant. As soon as I entered, the blonde hostess offered me a dazzling smile. Her short white sweater dress stretched nicely across her tits, and I stared for a second or two longer than I should’ve, if her flustered expression was anything to go by.

She met me halfway, thin manicured fingers clasped in front of herself respectfully. “Mr. Godfrey, welcome!”

I smiled and gave her a short nod, trying to peer over her shoulder. As soon as I saw Saint again, I pointed at him. “I want to sit in his area.”

The hostess, whose shiny gold name tag presented her as Ashleigh, glanced in the direction I was gesturing before giving me another smile. “Ah, that’s Nathan, our new waiter. He went to Paris for six months, you know? Very cultured and knowledgeable on the subject of French cuisine.”

I waved my hand in disregard. So, he lied about his name. I wasn’t surprised. It was optimistic and stupid, but I could see why he would try to get away with it. Who would want to admit to being Uncle Johnny’s son? “Just seat me in his area.” I pulled out my phone, texting Dad to tell him the news. “Table for two.”

Ashleigh led me to a corner table in perfect light, right against one of the windows. I nearly tripped twice on the way over, and she caught me, her mouth twisted in a frown as I shook her hand off and glared. When she got me to the seat, she assured me Nathan would be with me soon and left.

Dad: Saint is working at La Jolie Fille?

Ridge: Yep. It’s defintyyuitely him.

I glared at the screen, trying to backspace and type the word properly, but I was more than halfway to being smashed—plus, I didn’t give a damn—so I sent the text anyway. Dad would know what I meant.

Dad: I’ll be there soon.

Maybe I could do something to make Dad happy after all. I grinned. It only took a few moments for Saint to start heading toward me, but the moment his gaze met mine, he froze, abruptly halting. The tablet tumbled out of his hands to the floor and he stared, mouth open in surprise.

This was going to be so much fun. Dad and I were going to give him hell.

2

SAINT GODFREY

No, no, please Flying Spaghetti Monster, no. Anything but this.

I picked up the order tablet from the floor, fumbled it, dropped it again, and then swiped it firmly into my hands as my mind reeled. Nearby a pretty blonde woman in a short red dress smiled at me, and her partner, another woman with long brown hair in a blue dress, gave me a derisive shake of her head, as if she thought I’d suddenly become a fumble fingers to get a peek at her girlfriend’s legs.

I did not have the words or mental strength to even begin to relay to her that I had no interest in perving on anyone. They had already paid, so I wasn’t too worried about getting shortchanged by them. This time, anyway.

I should’ve known the fuckening was on its way.