THE DEAL?
1363 Words
VIVIAN’S POV
The room is still spinning. My mother is still smiling and Mr Hunter is watching me. And Brook glares at me like he wants to murder me in front of everyone.
Mr Hunter’s lips curl up at the side.
“Whatever happened between you two.” He grabs his son’s arm with a grip so tight that I see Brook wince a little. “We’ll discuss that later, boy.” The darkness in his voice makes my stomach drop.
He digs his fingers into Brook’s forearm and his jaw tightens as something flickers in his eyes and Brook’s jaw tightens.
My stomach lurches.
The cuts…
Is his father hitting him? Is that where this comes from? His cruelty and rage.
I imagine Mr Hunter raising his hand at the younger version of himself who might be unable to fight back.
The thought makes me feel something I don’t want to twist in my chest.
Pity.
I shove it away just as fast. He doesn’t deserve my pity. Brook hurts people. He broke someone’s leg. He humiliated that kid. Then he threatened me.
He deserves anything but my pity.
But the thought still lingers.
I spend the next few minutes pretending I want to be here. I’m beginning to regret coming.
Earlier, after I found out this devil is my stepbrother, I had tried to bolt but Mom had grabbed my wrist.
‘If you leave, I will stop paying for your education.’
So here I am, enduring every bit of this without the face of the man I want to see.
My Dad.
“Now, the children.” The photographer’s voice rings out and that snaps me out of watching Mr Hunter kiss my Mom.
His father shoves him towards me, and my Mom does the same. We are shoulder to shoulder. His body is rigid but mine is trembling.
“Closer! You both look like you hate each other.” The photographer laughs.
Well, I do hate him, and I’m sure he feels the same way.
But he moves closer, and his arm brushes mine. I flinch from the impact and he tilts his head towards me with his lips curled in a creepy way and it makes my stomach churn.
“Smile, stepsister.” He whispers through gritted teeth. “Everyone’s watching.”
My eyes move to the crowd and they indeed are watching. I force my lips into a curve as I watch the camera flash multiple times while hiding my trembling fists on my sides.
“Perfect!” He looks into his camera, and I catch a glint in his eyes. He seems to love his job. “Now, one hand on the waist. Make it look natural.”
Before I can process a think, Brook’s hand rests on my waist with his grip so firm.
My heart pounds. Heat radiates from his to mine. I can’t breathe.
“I’m going to make your life a living hell, stepsis.”
I swallow. My throat is dry. My heart is racing. I should be terrified. I am.
I despise him so much.
Yet why do I feel like I can’t breathe?
“Welcome to the family.” He whispers. “I would have asked you to stay out of my business. But as it seems, you are already in it.”
His thumb presses into my hip and I can hear his heartbeat.
My skin tingles underneath the fabric.
“Smile!”
His lips spread, and my face freezes. The camera flashes.
After more torturous minutes of taking picture with people I barely know, and the men I certainly want to be far away from all in the name of family, I am standing in the receiver line.
Turns out Brook and I have to stand together.
Today has to be my most terrible day.
“You play hockey?
My eyes shift to the golden haired boy who seems to be between the ages of eight to ten, he's looking up at Brook with a wide smile. Brook is looking down at him, too.
“I watch every game you play. I want to play like you when I grow up”
Brook laughs.
He actually laughs, and it's not the clinical evil type. It's warm, and delightful. I watch as he leans in to ruffle the kid's hair.
“Keep practicing. You could be better than me someday.”
Did I just hear him right?
I blink hard.
The kid nods, and runs off.
Brook looks in my direction with a smirk. “At least pretend to smile, nerd.” He taunts but I don’t pay him an ear.
Everyone who shows up, Mom introduces me as her daughter, and him as her stepson with a smile so bright that one will think she had always wanted my Dad dead.
She never smiled like this with him.
I want to scream at the fake display. I want to throw up at the whole thing but I hold it in.
The tears that sting my eyes. The exhaustion that coats my brows. The tension feels suffocating.
The fake display finally ends. The last of the guest leaves and the band is packing up which is my cue to leave.
My plan is simple: Call an Uber, and book an hotel room for tonight.
I will figure something else out tomorrow.
“Vivian.” A voice that isn’t entirely unfamiliar to me calls out, and Mr Hunter walks into the frame. “We never got a chance to properly meet.” He stretches his hand for a shake with a smile not leaving his lips.
I look down at his outstretched hand.
“Full hands.” I raise my hands, phone with one, bag in the other.
He nods before retracting it.
“You should stay the night. It’s late.”
“Don’t worry. I can always call a cab.”
His jaw hardens and I could have sworn that he sent me the meanest look before Mom appears beside him.
“I’m so glad you came, sweetheart. You didn't have to.”
I clench my jaw. “Yes, Mom. I did.”
The air between us thickens for a second.
“Brook can show you to your room, and we will have the car drop you very early tomorrow.”
I inhale. One more night.
“Fine.”
Brook’s head snaps up and his eyes meet mine. There’s something in them that I can’t properly read.
“This way.” His voice is flat with zero enthusiasm.
I won’t blame him for hating the person who published the truth about him.
He turns and walks up the stairs without looking back but I follow. My legs feel heavy and my heart is pounding.
The hallway is long, and dark. Just like his heart.
“Your room.” He pushes one of the doors open, and turns around to leave when he stops with his hands in his pocket.
“How will your Mother feel when she finds out her daughter was almost f****d on a rooftop?”
My heart stops.
He’s walking towards me. I cower, stumbling backward until my back hits the wall. His frame towers over me and I feel so small next to him.
His eyes bore into mine. While my breathe seizes. He tilts my chin upward, his fingers pressing against my skin.
“I don't want to do this.” He says quietly with his jaw tight. “But you've left me no choice. My entire future is on the line because of you so here's the deal.” An expression that looks close to exhaustion flickers over his face.
“You will write a whole book about me painting me as the best human to f*****g exist, and the best fit for Halcyon Athletic Consortium. You have two weeks, stepsister, and I’m going to monitor every bit of your progress.” He stops, his eyes darkening with something that makes my sto
mach tighten.
“If you fail, I'm going to release that footage of you from the rooftop. Let's see how any publishing firm accepts you after that."
My heart drops.
- Writer
