Page 34 of Distorted Obsession (The Distorted Trilogy #1)

mason

Staring out the window at the Atlanta cityscape as the sun sets, I appreciate its beauty. I’m at peace in this moment. Relaxing my shoulders, I allow myself to let all the pressures roll away.

I forget about our struggling family business.

I forget about all my plans for revenge.

I forget about the arranged marriage that is being leveraged to save our company.

But most of all, I forget about the honey-brown eyes with flecks of green, smooth bronze skin that looks like it’s been sun-kissed, and the killer smile that momentarily allowed me to pretend my intentions are pure.

Eva Rose

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Liam’s knowing grin tells me I’ve been caught.

“Maybe.”

Smirking, he retorts, “All it took was a smile and those beautiful brown orbs to land on you, and you’re questioning the entire plan you’ve concocted.”

My nostrils flare at his accusation. “Not all of us are simps.” I pause before turning to peer straight into his eyes to make sure he understands my next point clearly. “She may look good, Lee, but no piece of ass is more important than getting retribution for our family.”

“You say that now,” he argues. “But, Eva is?—”

I don’t let him finish. “She’s necessary collateral. End. Of. Story,” I growl, holding onto the anger. It’s the only way to drown the part of me that remembers how she looked at me like I mattered.

Liam snickers, but I swivel my gaze back out the window. This time, instead of finding serenity in the dusky sky, I see angry, orange-red clouds that match my sentiments about this whole situation.

Struggling family business— the Pierce family’s doing.

My plans for revenge — the Pierce family’s doing.

This goddamn arranged marriage to a vapid Southern socialite— the fucking Pierce family’s doing.

Everything wrong in my life stems from them. How could I ever let the scent of jasmine and chamomile cloud my brain and turn me stupid? The simple answer is I can’t— I won’t .

The car ride is quiet until we’re about three blocks from our grandparents’ estate.

“What’s the plan?” Liam murmurs. There’s a slight trepidation in his tone. He’s not at all comfortable with any part of this.

Reaching up, I massage the worry line I know is creasing between my eyebrows.

The reminder that each inch closer to my grandparents’ house is a second closer to the invisible shackles locking around my feet.

I clench my fists before I answer. “We toe the line. There isn’t much that can be done until we have an idea of what Grams and Pops have planned. ”

The idea of being attached to the vapid Hillary Banks clone makes my skin crawl.

Lillian Langston is a spoiled socialite with entitlement issues.

Her whole family is the definition of not all skin folk are kinfolk.

Between their classist ideals and colorist discriminatory views, I’m disgusted to be associated with them in any way.

I can still remember overhearing her mother talk about how fortunate I was that I had a nice complexion.

My jaw tenses at the memory, and my stomach churns knowing I’ll have to spend too much time in their presence.

Groaning, I return my attention to my brother before I continue, “So, at this moment, it’s best if we play along.”

Liam rubs the bridge of his nose, and I can see the wheels in his head churning for a way out—but there’s no way, not when Adeila Bradley is the matriarch of the family.

“Don’t bother trying to scheme our way out of this, Liam. Grams would hand us our asses before you can formulate a plan.”

“We can’t just do nothing, Mase. Any association with the Langstons is bound to be disastrous,” he rebuts.

I sigh as the car rolls to a momentary stop and watch as the driver punches in the code to open the gate. “I know, Lee. That’s why we can’t go soft on our revenge on the Pierce family.”

His lips twist before they part, “I still don’t think Eva’s the answer to our problems.”

I adjust my silk embroidered cravat, ensuring it’s properly in place, before buttoning my double-breasted navy blue vest as the engine cuts off. “Trust me on this. Eva is their weak spot. She’s vulnerable, and they’ll do anything to protect her, including covering up the murder of her best friend.”

“Mase—”

The car door opens, and I hold my hand up, silencing his rebuttal. “Let’s end this here. Our focus now is on serving this weekend. We hash out everything Eva-related when we’re back at school. Any mention of the Pierce family now will only seal our fates.”

“Our family business has been declining for the last few years, Ma.” I hear my father say as I walk down the hallway of the Bradley mansion. “We can’t put the near collapse of Fort Mosen on the Pierce Holdings. Rhion Pierce is a businessman who did what was best for his company.”

My hands clench at my side at the regurgitated argument—excuse. I snap my eyes shut, feeling my ears heat from the rage roiling in my gut. How is it not his fault? We had the deal set to be signed, and Pierce Holdings swooped in and snatched the food from our plates.

Pausing, I wait for my heart to slow and the tension to leave my body. I can’t enter the room this angry, not when I know what the topic of conversation will be.

“You’ve always been a pushover, Ian,” Uncle Ansel snaps. “A man comes in and yanks the deal necessary to save your family from the poor house, and you just throw your hands in the air on some, you win some and lose some bullshit.”

I internally high-five my uncle as I continue down the hall. I never thought I’d do it, but he’s spot on. My dad is being too timid. Business is cutthroat—there’s no room for a lamb that will be slaughtered in the lion’s den.

“Ansel Gerald Bradley, you’re not too old to get the switch,” Grams hisses. “Be respectful or get out!”

Stopping short, I listen in. If I walk into that room now, they’ll stop talking, and I need them to continue.

“Ma,” Uncle Ansel starts, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it’s the truth. Ian has always led with a gentle demeanor. He’s not cut out to be in charge.”

“Ansel, you’re two words away from the sense being knocked back into your head.” Pop’s baritone voice is laser-sharp with his rebuke. “When it was time for you to take charge, you were too busy chasing tail and gambling away money you never earned.”

The room is so silent that I’m tempted to peek inside to see if anyone’s still there, but I know what’s coming. “Three… two… one,” I whisper.

“Pa, don’t start,” Uncle Ansel grits out, and I can picture his pale, fawny complexion blaze five different shades of red in a matter of seconds.

“I didn’t start—I finished it,” Pop retorts.

My mouth falls open, and I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my phone. Liam needs to be present for the nuclear bomb that’s about to erupt.

“Why do you always do that?” my uncle petulantly asks as I send my message. “You wanted a perfect robot. That’s why you went with this b?—”

I swear I hear a whoosh before a pop booms through the room. “You think because your balls dropped, you have the right to be disrespectful in my house?” The anger in my grandfather’s tone is enough to make me stifle my laugh. It was a bridge too far.

“What’s g—” I shout when a tap on my shoulder nearly has me jump out of my skin.

Spinning around, I quickly lift my index finger to my lips. “Shhh, sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Enough,” Grams’s arctic command ends any further commentary. “It’s all water under the bridge. The focus now is getting the Bradley name back where it belongs—on top.”

“But why does it have to be at the expense of one of my sons?” my mother questions. “We still have more options to explore. Mason and Liam shouldn’t shoulder this burden.”

“Go, Ma,” Liam murmurs.

Reaching back, I pinch him. “Would you shut?—”

“Arranged marriages have always existed. It’s how families secure their wealth,” Uncle Ansel states. “This modern-day marriage for love bullshit is for the poor. We can’t afford such luxuries.”

“Then why don’t you offer up one of your five sons?” Dad argues with a force I rarely see. “They’re all of marrying age.”

Go, Dad . If I weren’t present, I wouldn’t believe it.

“Not to Lilly Langston,” Uncle Ansel snorts. “That girl isn’t a good fit for my boys, and if you ask me, Mason is more of Lilly’s type.”

I gnash my teeth so hard I think I chipped a tooth. “Easy for you to say, asshole. I’m being put on the block like some fucking stud,” I grumble a little too loudly.

“You two can join the conversation instead of acting like nosey church folk,” my grandmother shouts, and like two kids caught sneaking some of the frosting from her red velvet cake, we sheepishly enter the family room.

Liam snickers at the fact that I’m the one who got us caught out. “Grams,” Liam greets. Her scowl quickly morphs into a smile.

The air in the room shifts immediately. All the previous tension evaporates, with the exception of maybe Uncle Ansel, but he can stay sour. The world rights itself at the proclamation. That man never deserves praise—the selfish prick.

“Do you see anything, Charlie?” My grandmother quips, taking her first verbal jab. A curled smile dons her timeless face.

“Not a thing, Addie,” my grandad adds.

Smiling, I stroll toward her, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Don’t be like that, Grams. We know we should’ve visited sooner, but we’ve been acclimating to Groveton University life.”

“Don’t you two try to sweet-talk your way out of this,” she teases. “You both have been in this house for more than two hours, and short of eavesdropping, I didn’t see either of you.”

Liam squats down. “You know we had to look our best to see you.”

As they continue to talk, I pull out the box of Grams’s favorite pecan truffle brittle. “How else would we be able to get you this?” I cajole, placing the box in her lap.

“All is forgiven,” she squeals, and her smile doubles in size as the room bursts into laughter.

A chuff sounds, averting my attention to the back of my exiting uncle.

“You’re still so easily bought by these two, Addie,” Pop taunts, returning my attention to who really matters.

Swatting his shoulder, my grandmother replies, “You’re just jealous because you can’t have any.”

The lively conversation continues after my uncle’s departure, and all thoughts of marriage contracts are temporarily disbanded. That’s a problem for tomorrow, quite literally.