They were there for me when I didn’t think I needed anyone. We’re not only friends, we’re brothers. Blood doesn’t always necessarily mean family.
Those you choose can be more important to you than those who are related by blood and genes. The ones who stand by you even when you do stupid shit and don’t judge you.
I don’t know how long I’m lost in thought, but Etienne stands and turns to show off his ink. His shoulder blade holds the promise that no matter what, we will always be there for each other.
I couldn’t have chosen a better family.
Dad cuts his gaze toward me as Tarian moves to get his ink done. “You need to listen to your brother,” he tells me, something he’s voiced all my life. I’m so used to it.
I can’t help but smirk at his wariness. “You don’t trust me, Dad?” I push up, rising to full height.
“It’s not that,” Philipe responds. “This is something I take seriously, Ares. You’re volatile; I’m just ensuring you don’t lose your shit. You’re strong,” he informs me of what I already know. “War isn’t something we need to be starting with law enforcement. We’ve always worked with them, keeping our heads down, and our names out of trouble. Let’s not give them too much work before you’ve held your Crown.”
“I know, brother,” I tell him, leaning over the table with my palms flat on the cool wooden surface, and lock my gaze with his. “Listen, I’m grown up. I may not be as grown-up or as vigilant as you, but I know what I’m doing.” Our gazes lock, once more, and there’s no doubt I should be shoved off this table, but I know Philipe wouldn’t do that to me. “Anyway, I better head out, I have something to do.”
He nods. “Fine. Just don’t get into trouble tonight.”
I can’t help but laugh as I make my way to the door. I look forward to what I’m heading out to do, but trouble… that finds me, not the other way around.
I glance at my best friends and offer them a two-finger salute. I told them my plan, and they both agreed. Etienne offers me a wink before I turn and walk outside.
The evening air is balmy as I make my way to my sweet ride—the Maserati that my dad gifted me when I turned eighteen. Even though my Audi looks lonely, tonight, we’re going VIP, and that calls for a slick ride.
The engine purrs when I hit the gas and speed down the drive toward the gates. They slide open, allowing me to exit, and soon, I’m headed down toward the second largest property in the town we call our home. Etienne’s family’s plot sits on the opposite side of town as if we’re guarding the place.
I smile when I notice the girls walking around the campus in short skirts and tank tops. I love summer, and I’m feeling rather adventurous tonight.
“This is the life,” I utter to myself with a smile when two pretty blondes smile over at me the moment they meet my hungry gaze. All heads turn when I speed down the road with my music blaring and the wind whipping through my unruly hair.
I pull up to the road that sits behind Dahlia’s grandmother’s house and kill the engine. Glancing at the window that I know is her bedroom, I notice the light flickering, and I wonder if she’s lying on her bed, and with that comes an image of her in nothing but a pair of panties and a tank top, which makes me groan.
“Hello, Little Flower, time for us to talk.”
15
Dahlia
The dim yellow lamp illuminates my room. The brass double bed sits against the dark green wall, which has a small cream-colored arch built into it that juts out slightly. Beside me to the right, alongside the window, is a floor to ceiling bookshelf, which overlooks the university in the distance, and the forest beyond.
The dark wooden floor is covered in rich brown and red mats: there’s one by the bed and one beside my window seat. A small desk sits opposite my bed and beside the door, which leads out onto the hallway.
A clink on the window takes my attention away from the latest romance novel I’d gotten lost in. I still all movement, training my ears to listen for another clink, or something similar. When I don’t hear a sound, I cast my gaze back to the book.
“Little Flower.” Ares’s voice jolts me from the bed, causing my heart to leap into my throat. I’m on my feet in the next second, painfully aware of the way I’m dressed. He’s sitting on the window ledge with his dark booted feet on top of the soft cushion of my window seat.
“What the hell are you—”