Page 5

“Where the hell are you?” His deep voice booms through the speakers.

I grimace. “Geez, audition for Megatron already.”

“Maksim.” Warning drips from the single word.

I snicker. “On my way. Is Alex there yet?”

“No.”

“Then why—” The line cuts dead before I finish.

Gosh, he’s such an asshole. My favorite one.

I park at my designated spot at Father’s company headquarters and spot Alex stepping out of his car. A grin immediately spreads across my face.

“Hello, dear brother.” I fall into step beside him as we head toward the private elevator. “How was Thailand? Lucas wouldn’t shut up about it. He said it was paradise ever since you two got back.”

Alex lifts a brow, completely ignoring the question.

“Any idea why you’re not wearing a suit?”

“No idea at all,” I reply easily as the doors slide shut.

He doesn’t respond. The elevator hums upward in silence, the kind that feels deliberate. After a few seconds, I sigh dramatically and glance at him.

“Oh, and I don’t know if you’ve heard, but half the school ships Lucas and me. You even know what ‘shipping’ means?”

I catch the flicker in his eyes. Just a twitch. Then he tilts his head, studying me with that unreadable expression before a slow, dangerous smile forms.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” he murmurs, voice smooth and laced with venom I can’t name, “but Jake’s in this meeting. Probably right next to Tristan as we speak.”

The doors slide open before I can respond.

I blink, stunned.

“What?”

But he’s already walking away.

What the hell? Why is Jake even here? Why always him?

I rush out before the elevator closes, my chest suddenly tight as I follow Alex toward the boardroom.

❧

I’m seething.

Boiling in a black rage that claws at my ribs. Tristan and his deadbeat ex, Jake, sit pressed too close, shoulders brushing like old lovers who never quite let go. Tristan’s hand twitches near Jake’s, and I want to shatter it.

I don’t get it. Why does Tristan keep dragging this cheating bastard back? Jake’s a walking ruin—divorced him after ten years for screwing around, yet here he is, oozing smug entitlement. I don’t care about their history. Except I do.

God, I do.

Because Tristan’s eyes still flicker with that pathetic longing. It infuriates me, boiling my blood to acid. I hate Jake’s smug face, hate how he owns pieces of Tristan I’ll never touch. But worst of all, I hate Tristan for it. For looking at him like that, when I’d burn the world to see that gaze on me.

God, they’re both pathetic.

And somehow, I’m worse.