Corrupt(28)

“What do you mean, my family’s building?” His voice turned sharp.

“Delcour,” I told him. “I didn’t know it was a Crist building.”

“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re living at Delcour? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

I didn’t answer, confused as to why that was important to him in the first place. During the summer, I’d only mentioned finding an apartment but no details. And he hadn’t asked.

Was there something wrong with Delcour? Other than I’d gotten a little played in order to live there?

“Rika,” Trevor started, sounding rigid. “Find something else.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you there.”

“Why?” I pressed again.

His parents had tricked me into leasing the apartment, not telling me it was their building, and now Trever was ordering me out. I’d had enough of people telling me what to do.

“You really have to ask that?” he snapped. “Get your stuff and go to a hotel until you find another place. I mean it. You’re not living at Delcour.”

I stood there with my mouth slightly open, not understanding what the hell his problem was. Delcour belonged to his family. If anything, why wouldn’t he want me to stay there? And what did he think, ordering me around? He knew better.

“Look,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s got great security, and even though it’s not what I had planned, school starts in two days. I don’t want to move while I’m in the middle of classes.”

Not if I didn’t have to, anyway.

“I don’t want you there,” he reiterated, barking his order. “Do you understand?”

I clenched my teeth. “No,” I gritted out. “I don’t understand, because you’re not explaining it to me. And the last time I checked, you’re not my father.”

I heard his bitter laugh on the other end. “You probably planned this, didn’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I no longer cared. “I’m not moving. I don’t want to.”

“No. I don’t suppose you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I shot out.

But then my phone beeped again, and I pulled it away from my ear seeing Call Ended. I dropped my head back, exasperated. What the hell?

Why wouldn’t Trevor want me at Delcour? He hated Meridian City, but what did Delcour have to do with that?

And then I lifted my chin, closing my eyes as realization hit.

Michael. Trevor hated Michael, and Michael was at Delcour. He didn’t want him around me.

But if Michael didn’t give me the time of day at home, nothing would be any different here. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even know he lived at Delcour if I hadn’t run into him last night. I had no reason to think I’d see him on a regular basis.

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers across my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. The argument had me heated now.

And with energy to spare.

I gripped the phone, feeling the hilt of a blade in my fist and the fire in my legs to move.

Bringing up my phone, I typed in a search for “fencing clubs.”





“HELLO.” I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK of Hunter-Bailey, seeing the attendant’s head pop up. “I saw online that you have a fencing club, and I was wondering if you have open bouting nights.”

He pinched his eyebrows together, looking confused. “Excuse me?”

I shifted uncomfortably. Hunter-Bailey was reputed to have one of the most active fencing clubs in the state with private lessons and a large area for group workouts. It was also the only location in the city to offer fencing.

The facility was a little more intense than the Thunder Bay Rec Center that I was used to, though. Massive area rugs adorned the hardwood floors, while dark wood made up the stairs and all of the furniture. The upholstery was kept to dark tones like forest green, black, and midnight blue, and the place was old, dark, and very male. I’d also noticed the fancy marble dome ceiling and stained glass windows when I’d walked in.

“Fencing,” I clarified, looking at the young man dressed in a suit. “I’m looking for a club. I’ll purchase a membership if I need to.”

I really didn’t need classes. I’d been studying nearly my entire life. But I would love a chance to connect with other fencers, pair up for practice bouts, and make some friends.

But the guy was looking at me like I was speaking in Japanese.

“Rika,” a deep voice called, and I twisted my head, seeing Michael walk across the foyer from the front doors.

What was he doing here?

He approached me, wearing loose jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, everything he wore always accentuating his chest, arms, and height. A gym bag hung off his shoulder with a black sweater draped over it.

“What do you want?” His sharp tone bit.

I opened my mouth. “I…um—”

“You know this young woman, Mr. Crist?” the clerk asked, chiming in.

Michael stared at me, looking none too pleased with running into me, either. “Yes.”

The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, she’s interested in joining our fencing club, sir.”