Royal Prick (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(16)

It’s like he felt no guilt or responsibility for the role he played in me being f*cked up. Didn’t he realize what it felt like to be abandoned and what a toll that took on a person?

“Listen, Royal, I didn’t call you in to talk about the past; we’ll get to it sooner or later, but right now there is something else we need to discuss.” He paused, before continuing on.

“I wanted to tell you that I spoke with your mother before you came out here.”

The mere mention of my mother pierced my heart like a dagger was being shoved into it. I hurt her in so many ways, disappointed her, and made her feel guilty for things she shouldn’t. All because of the man in front of me.

Truthfully, I never meant to be the cause of any more pain or stress for her. Guilt ripped through me, seizing me in a vice of pain. The feeling was so strong I felt like it would consume me if I allowed it to.

I was slowly working through all the emotions I felt. Everyone that got too close to me ended up getting hurt. If you thought you could dig deeper, find out what made me tick, you were wrong. I was a cobra ready to strike at the first hand that tried to reach me. A failure stuck in my own emotional abyss, and I didn’t need any f*cking rescuing.

“Yeah, that much is obvious. Did she tell you how bad I was? That I broke her heart by being a piece of shit son?” I spoke, trying to sound bored with the topic, even though I was furious that they went behind my back and talked. “I guess I’m sorta like you in that way, Dad.” My father stared at me, clearly ignoring my anger toward the two of them.

“We devised a plan together. You know how much we love you, and we want to see you become an individual that society can look up to, not one they can throw in a prison cell. All the fights you have been in are causing a lot of damage to your record. You act like you don’t care about anything, but I know that’s a lie. There has to be something you care about.” I narrowed my eyes at him. If he for one second thought he could lecture me or act like he knew me, he had another thing coming.

I cleared my throat, my face a blank canvas as I stared him straight in the eyes. “I don’t really see how anything that you just said is of any of your concern?” It was apparent that I was getting on his nerves I could see the tension in his face and in the way he held his pen. I knew anger. It was a permanent fixture in my life, the only thing that stayed.

“Firstly, I am your father, the DNA says so, even if you hate the very thought of it there is no changing it. Secondly, a record keeps you from getting a job, from attending college. Do you have any idea what fighting does to a person? Do you even care? What about how much it hurts your mother and me?” The words sputtered from his throat. It was the first time he showed me any other type of emotion other than anger. I clenched my fists at my sides, shoving up from the chair that I was sitting in. The force of my movement caused the chair to scrape across the floor. Do I even care? That was a rich question coming from him. He must be joking.

I lifted my fist in a fit of rage, slamming it onto the top of his desk; pain radiating from my fingertips to my wrist, but I didn’t care. If shock made a sound it would be the deep breaths filtering in through my father’s mouth. I watched with an intense stare as papers scattered and the other shit on his desk rattled some of the shit clattering to the floor.

I leaned into him, my elbows resting on the edge of the desk, my eyes filled with hollowed-out pain, and my voice menacing as I spoke.

“Do I even care? What kind of f*cking question is that? That’s something you should be asking yourself, wouldn’t you think?” I growled out the words. This f*cker had balls questioning me on shit that he should be questioning himself about.

“Clearly one that you never thought out, because your mother had to send you to come and live with me, and the shit that lies in the past needs to stay there. You should be worried about you and not me. Worried about a future that is just within reach. You’re going to put yourself in a world of hurt if you keep down this road.” I couldn’t help the anger that exploded from deep inside of me. It was like a timer on a ticking time bomb, the time slipping to zero and the bomb exploding. I beat my fist against the wooden desk once more, the pain of the blow just adding fuel to the ever-growing fire inside of me. The pain didn’t faze me as much as what this * had to say.

“I wouldn’t have to have been sent here if you were an actual father! And for the love of God stop trying to pretend you give a shit about me when we both know you don’t.” My voice rattled with anger, the harshness of my words making me wonder when I dove off the deep end into the black waters below.

I didn’t care if anyone heard me. I hoped they did. I hoped they heard all about the piece of shit known as my father, and I hoped that when they saw me they questioned every good thing he ever did. I wasn’t good, and I was nothing to show off. I was lost and damaged. A piece of debris floating out in open water.

“Sit down, Royal.” Why the f*ck didn’t he seem the least bit fazed that I was ready to knock his old ass out?

“Your temper is the same as mine. Fire burns in your veins where blood should. I know the pain you’re feeling, and I understand how unhappy you are with me.” My teeth gnashed together. He looked at me like he had me figured out, like he knew what I had been through the in last seventeen years.

“I am nothing like you! Nothing. We might share DNA, and you might legally be my father, but saying you’re someone’s father and acting like one are two very different things.”