Page 14 of Possession

But with my enrolment at Bartholomew came the opportunity to network and connect with others who were just as rich and just as depraved as my wicked bloodline—if not worse.

I was actively laying down the foundations of his downfall, and I couldn’t fucking wait for the day I killed him. Preferably with my bare hands wrapped around his throat, so I could stare into his eyes—exactly the same shade as my own—and watch his life drain from them.

No guilt registered. I was what he made me. The prodigy he carved and tortured in his image.

“Take a seat, son,” he said, gesturing to one of two armchairs in front of his desk.“You look like shit.”

I shrugged. “Did you get what I asked?”

“Hmm. Curious,” he said, ignoring my question. Father stood and turned to his minibar, pouring two drinks of top-shelf whisky before offering me one.

He was probing, prolonging the silence to intimidate. A shame that trick had stopped working when I was a kid.

I played him at his own game, raising the crystal rim to my mouth and pretending to drink. I wasn’t ready to wash away her taste that lingered on my tongue, no matter the quality of the liquor.

He broke, collecting the trinket from inside his suit jacket. Holding the bright gem up in the air, he inspected the sheen with a critical eye.

“Curious…that you requested this specific heirloom your mother adored.”

“She wanted me to have it. That’s why it wasn’t buried with her.”

“Yes, but it was never hers to give. Like my predecessors, I gifted this necklace to her on our wedding day, and she never took it off. It was the only thing that survived that tragic car crash. So why would you want to give it to an outsider?”

Of course he knew it was for Ada. “She’s a Carmichael, isn’t she?”

“In name only.”

I wanted to punch him. He placed the gift on his desk before giving me his full attention.

“A priceless jewel of this calibre will cost you.”

“Name the price.”

“Your hand in marriage.”

My fingers tightened around the thick tumbler—the only tell that my insides were seething in rage and ruin. Yet, my expression remained in place—cold, apathetic,psychopathic.

I had mastered my mask many years before, as survival deemed it so. Not getting the reaction he sought, Father continued, digging into his endless pocket to remove a ring box.

“I’ve made an advantageous deal with the Sullivans, and in return, they’ve asked for an arranged marriage between you and their daughter.”

“I’m not marrying Annika.”

“Well, she wants you. And there’s nothing that Sullivan girl can’t get once she cries to her daddy. And the number of shares and money he’s willing to throw at this proves that.”

And the cracks began to show. “She’s fucking deluded. I’m not putting that ring on her finger.”

Hetsked, as if dealing with an errant child. “You’re looking at it wrong, son. This ring is a form of control. Nothing more. Bring that Sullivan bitch into line, then we’ll have their whole domain under our rule.”

My knee was bouncing now, the structure of my control evaporating like steam. And my fucking asshole of a father smirked in triumph.

In one lastfuck you,he opened the tiny case, revealing the extravagant engagement ring within. The gigantic diamond projected shiny prisms around the room when a soft knock sounded from the closed door. I was going to be sick.

Father placed the open ring case next to Ada’s birthday present, the sight conflicting and disgustingly wrong.

As he walked past me, my father laid a hand on my shoulder, its weight crushing despite the light pressure.

“You will do this, Greyson. Propose, get her all nice and pliant, thenshowher her place…Where all women should be—on their knees.”