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His eyes flit past mine, not making any kind of lingering contact, before locking back on the man he’s entertaining. The man is a little older. Hair graying at the temples. He’s not bad looking, nearly as handsome as Silas, in a more distinguished way. Men like this… they’re usually in some kind of mid-life crisis, seeking meaning in their lives, and my father snaps them up.

My stomach twists as the guy places his hand on my friend’s muscular shoulder, fingers spreading over his warm skin. It only coils tighter when Silas gives him a coy, flirty grin in return. I recognize the move. I have a dozen of my own, but the things my father has Silas do… it’s different from me fucking a sexy blond.

I don’t miss the dark shadows under his eyes. The exhaustion in his limbs. The weight of what he is forced to do for my father is weighing on him. All the grooming and manipulation. What strikes me is that my father has us both out here, selling, trading, degrading ourselves to fill the coffers of Serendee.

Does he need money?

“Rex!” I snap my eyes away from Silas and his target, shifting them over to Jasmine. She’s blonde, young, and beautiful. Exactly my father’s type. She’s in college, so somewhat educated, but barely hanging on, with abysmally low grades. Like many girls at this point in their lives, she’s trying to find herself—separate herself from her family identity and make her own. It’s so much easier when daddy’s bank account is funding the process. Girls like Jasmine are at a crossroads. Finish school and live up to family expectations or take her own path.

Serendee is the latter.

Jasmine stands, revealing her lithe, taunting body in a barely-there bikini. It’s not exceptionally warm—and a rush of goosebumps rises across her flesh, hardening her nipples into sharp peaks.

“They said you’ve been busy.” Her lips twist into a pout.

I take her in, the blond, bottled hair. The expensive swimsuit that fits like a second skin, the flashy gold jewelry around her neck and fingers. The skin. The nipples. The mouth.

Six months ago, if I met up with Jasmine or any woman that looked like her, I’d be calculating how fast I could get my dick in her. How hard I could use her before getting access to her bank account. What those lips would look like circling my dick. But now?

Disinterest settles over me.

All I want is my mate back. I want her shy, clear expression. Her fair, natural hair that curls by her ears. I want to bask in nervous movements. Her eagerness to learn. Her loyalty. I want her nipples. Her mouth. Hereverything.

But most of all, I want the woman who can see Serendee and my father for exactly who he is and still want me.

I push all that want, all the need, deep down to that black ball in my chest and slip into the man my father made me and flash a smile at Jasmine.

Doing this, whatever it takes, is the only shot I may get.

“Sorry, babe,” I say, striding over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “My father has had me occupied.”

“The fact he relies on you is proof of how good you are at your job.”

Word must not have gotten out to the potential recruits that I’ve been Banished. It makes more sense why Anex kept me here. He still has use for me beyond backbreaking work. He needs me, just like Silas, to be his whore.

Jasmine pushes up on her tip-toes and presses her lips against my neck. Her tongue darts out, lathing the flesh and it strikes me. I can’t do this. I won’t betray my mate. I made a promise, and I plan to keep it.

To both her and my father.

I glance across the pool where I see the target resting his chin on his elbows while Silas rubs his shoulders. Our eyes meet over Jasmine’s head, and I lift my chin toward the pool house.

“Babe,” I say, tilting her chin toward my face. “How about we take this somewhere a little more private?”

She leans into me. “That would be great.”

Sliding my hand down her backside, I lead her across the pool deck to the small cottage. Inside, Jasmine gushes, “This is freaking adorable,” as she takes in the space. A soft, circular rug fills the main room. The rug is dotted with fuzzy pillows. Twinkling lights hang from the ceiling casting the room in a hazy light. Unlit candles sit on mounted shelves, their lingering scent earthy and warm. I don’t know who decorated it, but I suspect Margaret had a hand.

This isn’t just a pool house; it’s a trap.

Against the back wall is a bar, stocked with wine and alcohol. A box of premium weed is tucked behind the glassware, but I don’t want anyone stoned. Not for a decision like this. I need everyone clear—their decisions firm. I flip on the stereo and soft music spills from the hidden speakers, then walk over to the wine rack. “Grab a few glasses out of that cabinet, will you?”

She skips across the tiles, the ties on her bikini bottoms swaying with every step. I select a bottle and Jasmine locates the glasses quickly, bringing them over to me while I turn the corkscrew. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No, but it’s been a few long weeks, and I’m happy to see you.” The cork gives, and I fill the two glasses, handing her one. I hold up my glass, and she does the same. “To catching up and new beginnings.”

The glasses meet, emitting a chime in the small space. She takes a gulp and while I lift the glass to my lips, I barely take a sip. The wine is sweet, but it does nothing to take the bitterness off my tongue.

“Come,” I say, linking her fingers with mine and lead her over to the rug. “Tell me what’s going on. How did you end up here? The last time we were together, you hadn’t made any decisions about Serendee.”