Chapter 134
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Scream? Cry? Vomit?
My brain can’t decide which of these I want to do, so it picks neither, just toggles in between, leaving me numb and frazzled.
Nathan is next to pick, but he just stands there, glaring at his older brother.
His older brother–who’s smirking down at me.
Nathan’s hands clench and unclench, and in the back of my frayed brain, I wonder if he’s going to throw a fist at Lucas. I hope he throws
a fist at Lucas and puts him in the hospital, putting me out of my misery.
“Master Nathan,” Easton says, respectfully insistent. “It’s your turn.”
I can see the effort it takes Nathan to pull his gaze off Lucas.
Like a gravitational pull, his eyes instantly land on me.
“I choose April Farrah.” The words rip out of him in a savage rush.
The whispers and mumbles rise, every eye in the room turning to me–the girl the two oldest Ashfords want.
“Master Nathan,” Easton says hesitantly. “Master Lucas already chose-”
“I choose April Farrah,” Nathan repeats, like Easton didn’t speak.
“First come, first serve, brother,” Lucas says mildly.
Nathan growls. “She’s not a limited–edition pair of sneakers.”
“And yet, you’re acting like a sneakerhead who’s been duped out of his place in line.”
“Master Nathan,“–Easton sounds nervous-“perhaps you could choose from the other cont-”
“I. Want. April.” Nathan is a dog with a bone.
I feel like I’m having that dream where I’m naked in school and everyone is staring at me. Except this time, I’m naked, covered in fish guts, and two handsome heirs are fighting over me.
“Well, I chose her already,” Lucas says, stepping forward. “What are you going to do about it?”
My gasp is swallowed by everyone else’s when Nathan grabs Lucas‘ shirt collar, his hand forming into a fist.
The comment under the Instagram picture Taylor posted of me and Nathan springs to my mind–perfectly fitting for this moment.
Okay, if the two brothers fight over her and I don’t get a video, I’m going to be pissed.
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Chapter 134
“Listen, you dickhead-
“What’s going on here?”
”
:
The voice comes from behind and is low and calm. Yet it carries across the room–all the way to the stage, where Nathan freezes like he touched a live wire.
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The eyes fixed on me take a break to stare at the new addition to the room–Samuel Ashford.
Easton bows. “S–sir, it’s a simple misunderstanding. You see-”
“I chose April Farrah as my date, and Nathan here refuses to acknowledge my seniority and the fact that I chose first,” Lucas says, sounding like a little brat.
Samuel’s eyes, so hauntingly like Nathan’s, survey the room, running over his sons–Nathan is still frozen, with Lucas‘ collar in his grip- and then landing on me.
The air around me turns syrupy, and no matter how hard I inhale, I can’t draw any in.
Samuel cocks his head to the right. “My, my, Miss Farrah. You must be quite something for both my sons to be fighting over you.”
Nope. No air.
He starts to walk, and the girls part like the Red Sea before Moses. No whispers, no murmurs, not a single sound except for the click of his Tom Ford loafers on the marble floor.
He steps on stage and walks between Lucas and Nathan. Samuel grabs Nathan’s wrist, and I see the veins bulge in Nathan’s hand as he struggles to hold on to Lucas‘ collar.
Then, with the slightest wince that tells me Samuel applied painful pressure, Nathan releases his brother’s shirt.
Samuel’s hand drops, but he doesn’t relinquish his hold on Nathan. Nathan’s face is a mask of stone, one single muscle ticking in his jaw.
Samuel’s eyes zero in on me, and when he smiles, I know where Lucas got his predatory grin from.
“I believe the fair thing in this case is to leave the decision to you.”
You, I think numbly. Who the hell is you?
When I don’t move or blink or say anything, I feel a nudge. “April,” Eliza whispers shakily, “He’s talking to you.”
You… Me.
Samuel is asking me to choose between Nathan and Lucas.
At that moment, I split into two.
April number one lets out a huge sigh of relief. I get to choose. I can just say, “I pick Nathan,” and this awful naked, fish guts dream will
be over.
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April number two, however….
:
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She sees the grip Samuel has on his son’s hand. Sees the muscle in Nathan’s jaw tick, his eyes twitching like he’s struggling not to have his face crumple in pain.
She remembers that night in the clinic–the bruises and cuts and blood on the face of the love of her life.
It’s discipline, April.
I don’t know why Samuel beat Nathan that night. But I know why he’ll beat him today. For causing a disturbance, for attacking his brother. For letting slip that the Ashfords are not the united, loving family they portray to the world.
I remember what Nathan told me in the still night on the football field–the truth behind his knee injury and the end of his football
career.
“We await your choice with bated breath, my dear,” Samuel drawls. He sounds uncaring, bored. But I hear the edge to his voice, see his grip tighten on Nathan’s wrist to the point where he can’t hide a wince.
“I-” I choose Nathan. I want Nathan.
But I know with every fiber of my being, as well as I know my own name, that if Nathan takes me out and returns, I’ll have to raid the clinic supply closet again to put him back together.
Maybe we can run away. We’ll pack our things, go on a date, and never come back. As soon as it forms, the idea dies a shuddering death.
Where would we go? My schoolwork has fallen behind so badly that I’m practically a college dropout at this point. Nathan–does he have a plan? Something hidden?
I don’t know, and I can’t bank on that.
The only way to save Nathan is to appease Samuel.
Standing between the two brothers, the three of them look identical, but there’s a similarity between Samuel and Lucas that Nathan doesn’t share–a predatory coldness, calculation, savagery.
With that same clarity, I know that Samuel has never once hit Lucas.
“Miss Farrah,“–Samuel’s voice is sharp with impatience-“make your choice.”
I swallow against the brick–sized lump in my throat.
I glance to my side, and my gaze finds Lara. Like the rest of them, she’s waiting, curiosity mingling with that earlier look of betrayal.
I should have told her about Lucas earlier. Maybe if I did, she’d be able to understand what I’m about to do.
I hope she does.
I hope Nathan does, too.
“I choose…Lucas.”
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