2 : Clash Of Wills
702 Words
Jason didn’t slow down as he dragged my suitcase up a sweeping staircase that looked like it belonged in a movie. His footsteps echoed off the marble steps, his pace deliberate—fast enough to make me stumble, slow enough that I couldn’t accuse him of doing it on purpose.
I hated him already.
“This place is… huge,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
Jason glanced back, smirk firmly in place. “Try not to get lost. Though, honestly, it might be better for all of us if you did.”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Mom always said I had a temper, and Jason clearly thrived on provoking it. If I exploded, I’d be playing straight into his hands.
He stopped at the end of a long hallway, pushing open a door with a flourish. “And here it is—your royal quarters.”
The room was beautiful, I had to admit. A four-poster bed draped with soft linens, a chandelier glittering above, and tall windows overlooking the back garden. Everything screamed wealth, perfection, luxury.
Jason dropped my suitcase in the middle of the floor with a loud thud. “Try not to spill your thrift store clothes everywhere. The maids have enough to deal with.”
That did it. “You’re such a jerk,” I snapped, crossing my arms.
Jason’s eyes lit up with amusement, like he’d been waiting for me to bite. “Careful, princess. You’re showing claws.”
I took a step closer, ignoring the way my pulse quickened. “Stop calling me that.”
He tilted his head, studying me with that infuriating smirk. “Why? It suits you. You walk in here, expecting to fit into a world that doesn’t belong to you. That’s what princesses do, isn’t it? Pretend?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t know me, didn’t know the years of sacrifice, the moving from place to place, the way Mom had struggled to give me even the basics. Pretending was the last thing I’d ever done.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said, my voice low and steady.
Jason leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “Maybe not. But I’ll figure you out, Olivia. And when I do, don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
With that, he pushed off the frame and strolled out, leaving me seething in the middle of the gorgeous room that suddenly felt like a gilded cage.
⸻
Dinner that night was no better.
The dining table could have seated twenty, but only four of us sat there: Richard at the head, Mom beside him, Jason on the other side, and me across from Jason. The air buzzed with tension, at least on my side. Jason seemed perfectly at ease, lounging back in his chair, twirling his fork between his fingers like this was all some private joke.
“So, Olivia,” Richard began warmly. “How are you finding the house so far?”
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.
Jason snorted.
Richard’s brow furrowed, but Mom quickly jumped in. “It is beautiful. We’re very grateful to be here, Richard. Truly.”
Jason stabbed a piece of steak, muttering, “Some of us more than others.”
My cheeks flamed. “Do you have a problem with me?” I demanded before I could stop myself.
Jason looked up, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. The smirk was gone, replaced with something sharper, more dangerous. “Yeah, princess. I do. I don’t like strangers barging into my life and acting like they belong.”
The table went silent.
Richard sighed heavily. “Jason—”
But Jason just leaned back in his chair again, smirk returning like a mask. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll play nice. For now.”
My hands curled into fists beneath the table. If Jason thought I was going to roll over and let him treat me like dirt, he had another thing coming.
This wasn’t just his house anymore. It was mine too.
And if it was war he wanted, I was ready to fight.
- Writer
