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I finish up and flush, then kick off the cotton pants, followed by the shirt. I feel Anex’s eyes on me as I pull on the pants first—black linen. They gape around the waist, an indicator of how much weight I’ve lost. My muscle seems more pronounced, but not in a healthy way. Like I’m eating myself from the inside. I grab the shirt and slip my hands in the sleeves, hating how right the expensive linen feels next to my skin. I’m spoiled. Entitled. Chosen.

Or, rather, I was.

I look down at my cracked, raw, hands. They tell the story of the weeks of Banishment. I glance up and catch him watching me.

“You’re too thin and your hands…” His nose wrinkles in disgust.

I hold them up, tanned from the sun. “Have a distaste for the working man all of the sudden? The backbone of Serendee?”

He shakes his head, but he barely meets my eye. I wish it was shame he felt, but this man has no humility. No conscious. Not even when it comes to blood.

“What’s this about?” I ask, like I don’t already know. My father made it clear the day of our fight. He needs my services. He’s spent years relying on me bringing in the big fish—the bigbank accounts—he needs to live his extravagant lifestyle. He needs me to seduce someone.

He’s well aware that I know so he doesn’t waste time.

“I’ve got Jasmine West upstairs, the princess of Cobra Tequila. She needs a little nudge. I’ve got her committed. She’s been taking classes down at the center. A week ago, she moved into one of the guest suites. Everything is going according to plan, but she keeps asking for you—making it clear that your involvement is a dealbreaker.”

“There has to be someone else that can handle Jasmine.”

“Sorry, Son. Whatever you did to her over at Whittmore has her focused on you and, I suspect, your dick. She wants you and only you. Otherwise, there’s no way we’re getting into her trust fund.”

There was a time my father wasn’t so blunt about it. So crass. Everything was for the Greater Good, but I guess the scales have fallen and we’re not pretending anymore. At least not father and son.

I start to tell him that Jasmine doesn’t want my dick. She wants the pretty pictures from the brochures. What the classes and certificates and courses push. Extravagance, plus meaning, plus sex, with an added dash of rebellion against her family. She wants more.Everything.And my father and myself have sold her on Serendee truly being utopia.

I start to tell him this, but I don’t. My father has forgotten the true product of Serendee. The fantasy. Which means I finally have something: leverage.

“I’ll do it—for a price.”

“Ah, there he is. My son, the negotiator.” He leans against the metal edge of the bed and crosses his arms over his chest. Pride lights his eyes. “What do you want?”

Without hesitation, I make my demand. “I want to see Imogene. In person. Face to face.”

Conflict crosses his expression, but it quickly fades. “I can do that, but you have seal this deal for me. I need a million dollars transferred from her trust to our account today.”

I run my hands through my hair. “Done.”

“You’re that confident?”

With Jasmine? “Absolutely.”

“You make that happen and then you get to see Imogene.” He pushes off the bed and then adds, “On my terms.”

He offers his hand, but before I shake it, I say, “Don’t try to get something over on me with this. A deal is a deal. I want to see her. Talk to her. No fucking around.”

“I’m a man of my word, Rex, you know that.” Our eyes lock. “But no fucking around on me either. You do whatever it takes to lock Jasmine in. Understand?”

My father never just wants one thing. Sure, Jasmine’s trust fund is the priority, but if he can degrade me in the process? Get me to betray Imogene by being with another woman? Icing on the cake. I should tell him to fuck off, but I reach for his hand and shake it, confirming the arrangement.

Anex has what I want, and I’ll do what it takes to make it happen. Even if that means doing what he’s taught me to do best: selling myself.

Erik escorts me from my basement cell, through the maze of staircases and hallways in the Main House, to the French doors that lead outside. Jasmine is sprawled on a lounge chair, catching the last rays of warm sun by the pool. From this vantage point, Serendee appears to be a luxurious retreat. Sure, by the time a recruit gets to here, sitting by the edge of the sparkling infinity pool, they have taken the classes and learned the lessons of being part of our community. But the classes are not equal. What the natural born residents of Serendee experience is a different world than that of the chosen plucked from outside the walls—the women and occasional men attached to wealthy portfolios and trust funds.

These people get special treatment from my father and will continue to do so until they no longer suit his needs.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Erik says, easing into a position near a massive white column. His gun is hidden, but I have no doubt he can access it quickly. “I’ll be watching.”

The only stupid thing I did was not forcing Imogene and the others to leave this godforsaken place when we had the chance. I descend the stairs, eyes sweeping over the pool. Jasmine isn’t out here alone. My father has other guests, recruits, people he has in various states of fleecing. My gaze lands on two people floating in the far corner of the pool. Two men. One familiar. One not. Silas.