Page 28 of Midnight Curfew

That sounds more fun.

I need to pick up my sister, though.

“Drop off Mr. Watson at his office, then take me to the academy,” I call out.

Barnes nods. “Yes, sir.”

Sophia might prove useful after all. I thought about her role here when I was preparing my return. Maybe she’d help me get rid of my father, who also needs to be taken care of—after the Jaegers are neatly nailed back down into their places, of course.

Or perhaps I could’ve put her in Olivia Jaeger’s path, a means to put me there, too.

But when I heard she was spending most of her time at the school, the only place she felt safe in St. Carmen anymore, and assisting our new teacher, it was even better than expected. The kid wasn’t good for much else—and it was unlikely she would ever marry, run her own house, or be able to hold down a real job—but her mother helped her find a place where she could dream away her days.

To think, when we were growing up, she possessed so much potential to gain her own power. She was smart and coy and knew exactly how to get what she wanted.

Now she only wants to escape. The doctors said it was age regression brought on by PTSD. She knows who she is but easily slips into another reality. One where she’s a child who doesn’t have to be in adult spaces. Unless she wants to, of course.

After years away, her medical team concluded that she wasn’t a danger to herself and just needed outpatient therapy and time.

Therapy hasn’t helped, but still, she goes.

“Your father is leaving for the summer?” Jerome asks.

I lift my eyes from my phone. “For a few weeks, at least.”

He left today with my stepmother, although I can’t imagine she’ll spend much time with him. He’ll be in and out of our ski lodge, hunting, with probably a trip up to Alaska for bear and Montana for elk, because he just loves killing shit. She’ll spend her days reading or redecorating something or going to the spa. I don’t care.

“I’ve got a friend.”

I raise my eyes again as Jerome risks glances at me in between looking out the window.

“You’d like him,” he says.

What the fuck? What is he…?

I narrow my eyes, glancing to make sure Milo and Vincent are gone as if I didn’t see them get out of the car myself.

What the hell does Jerome mean?

He just breathes a laugh. “You’re not the first heir in the history of the world pressured to keep up appearances, Callum,” he tells me.

Locking my jaw, I turn away, watching the canal pass by the windows as we enter St. Carmen.

“I was in school with him back in college,” he goes on. “He runs two hotels, bench-presses one-eighty, stands six-two, and likes his private life…private.”

My stomach starts to twist into a slow, massive knot, and I want to know what the fuck he’s heard. I don’t give a shit if my friends know what I like, but I don’t want my personal business out there. Did he hear it from someone?

Or is it obvious?

“Women look at him before they look at me,” he continues, “only he doesn’t like women.”

He was in college with him. Which means he’s around Jerome’s age. Thirty-five.

I don’t linger too long on the idea that dances at the periphery of my brain. Dallas is twenty-five. Would it fuck with him to see a man looking at me? One who’s older and a hell of a lot more successful?

We breeze past Liv’s film crew, who are trying to keep their equipment dry, and I look for her even though I hope I don’t see her.

She is actually the one thing in my past I regret.