Rule Number One: Kissing Your Stepbrother Again Will Ruin You

Elowen

"I don't do virgins, blondie."

It had been nine solid months since that night, and yet the embarrassment still lingered heavily in my chest whenever I remembered the events that occurred.

“I want to hold another party, in celebration of you getting into Whitmore College!” Isa shrieked through the phone, her voice bright and obnoxiously chipper.

“Isa, no. Absolutely no,” I groaned, balancing my phone between my shoulder and ear as I put on the kitchen gloves, getting ready to bring out my cookies from the oven. I hoped they wouldn’t be bland or too sugary this time.

“Come on, Elowen,” she whined, dragging my name out like a kid begging for candy. “You’re officially a college student now. You’re not supposed to be this reserved. At least be wild and crazy. We only live once, you know.”

“First of all,” I said, rolling my eyes as I opened the fridge, only to find it depressingly empty, “I got into Whitmore because I literally had no other choice. It’s not my dream college. It’s not Belmont. I need to study harder and become abundantly rich so I can live how I want to.”

“Yeah, duh,” Isa mocked, her dramatic tone practically dripping through the phone. “So what if Whitmore isn’t Belmont? At least you’re still going to college and studying music or some other boring course, which is, like, the most amazing thing ever.”

I sighed, opening the oven door and leaning in to grab the tray. The cookies looked sumptuous. I hoped the taste would too.

“Isa, do you even know what music is?”

“It’s like... screaming above your voice and playing some ridiculously boring instrument, right?” she said, and I could practically hear her smirking on the other end.

“Oh, good Lord,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

“Anyway,” she continued, undeterred, “I’m still gonna throw that party, and you’re going to come, and you’re going to have some fun. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get laid again.”

“Isa!” I snapped, heat rushing to my cheeks.

“What?” she replied, feigning innocence. “You can’t tell me you’re still not thinking about him. It’s been what now... nine months? Nine months, Elowen.”

“I’m not thinking about him,” I said firmly, though the lie was obvious even to myself.

“Hmm,” Isa scoffed. “Last month when you came to my house, did you think I didn’t hear you talking in your sleep? Saying words like, ‘Oh, please touch me here.’”

“Shit, Isa.” I was horrified.

She chuckled loudly, the sound making me smile embarrassingly.

“You still dream about him, right?” she continued, laughing between her words. “That hot stranger who gave you the best night of your life and—”

And the worst. I clenched my teeth. Isa knew nothing about what happened later that night and I wanted to keep it so.

“I know what I did, Isa,” I interrupted, feigning a groan.

I had told Isa that the stranger and I had only made out because I didn’t want her knowing about how he said things that made me feel humiliated. How, because of those words, I couldn’t bring myself to be close to any other guy again.

I would keep my promise to my mother, and this time no one would be here to make me do otherwise.

“I took a shower and washed off our little encounter from my body. Can we move on?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I’m never letting you live that down. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who looks like a Greek god and actually knows what to do in bed? And you just let him poof, disappear.”

I sighed, leaning against the counter and pinching the bridge of my nose.

“I didn’t let him disappear. The whole idea of a one-night stand is just that... a one-night stand. Only one night of your life. Not more. That’s literally how it works.”

“Not when they’re that good,” she quipped. “Honestly, I’m just disappointed in you. I expected you to be smart and use this opportunity to corner such a guy.”

“Well, sorry but not sorry to disappoint,” I said dryly. “Now can we talk about my cookies or something else? Like how you’re going to manufacture the money to pay for this party you’re so determined to throw.”

“You like to worry too much about things that shouldn’t be worried about,” she said breezily. “I’ve got it all figured out. All I need you to be concerned about is how you’ll dress up and look hot. Not girl hot, but boy hot.”

I rolled my eyes.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about the money involved in paying for this party. The last time Isa told me that “she had it figured out,” we both ended up begging and pleading with the store owner she bought drinks from on credit. And the store owner called the police on us.

Thanks to my dad, who was one of the cops that came to arrest his own daughter and her best friend. Seeing me, he sighed, told me how embarrassing this was for him, and ended up paying for the drinks.

Speak of the devil.

“Isa, I’ll call you back,” I said quickly, cutting her off mid-rant.

“What? Why?”

“Dad’s here,” I said, already lowering the phone.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But we’re not done talking about this party, Elowen!”

I hung up before she could say anything else, stuffing my phone into my pocket and pulling off the kitchen gloves before walking into the living room.

“To what do I owe you coming back this early?” I asked, frowning as I took in the sight of my father sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch, a cigarette on his lips.

The air had already started to smell of smoke. And the type he smoked wasn’t the kind that smelled sweet. This habit disgusted me to my core.

“That’s not a way to greet your dad.”

“Well, that’s how I greet the dad who hasn’t been there for his daughter since her mother died a year ago. You didn’t even bother showing up to my graduation. Mum wouldn’t have done that,” I snapped, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “I was the best in my class, by the way. Not that it concerns you.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” my father said, drawing me close to him. “You’re a big girl now. Besides... Dad is always busy now. Trying his best to make sure you experience a proper life.”

“Yeah, by dodging your responsibilities pertaining to my life,” I shot back, moving two steps back. The smell of smoke oozing from him was disgusting. “Great way to be a dad.”

His face twitched just for a second before he composed himself and smoothed his shirt. It looked way too expensive. I swear the cost of that shirt alone was enough to buy half the clothes he owned.

His hair was gelled back, making him look younger than usual.

“My little pessimistic baby girl,” he said with a sigh, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “I heard you got into Whitmore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. A low-class school. Exactly what I know you were about to call it.”

He looked out the window, breathed in and out, then turned back to meet my gaze.

“I wasn’t going to say low-class. Why do you think so lowly of me?”

I ignored his question.

“Spare me the lies. Swear that you weren’t going to say that,” I challenged, glaring at him.

“I didn’t,” he said. “It’s not Belmont, is it? But it’s... okay, I suppose.”

“Wow, Dad, thank you so much for the wonderful review.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “If you’d love to know, I was doing great before you stepped in. It’s either you go back to wherever you came from or you go to your room as always. I don’t need you.”

I turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed my hand, stopping me in my tracks.

“What if you got into Belmont?”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

I whirled around, eyeing him up and down before forcefully pulling my arm from his grasp.

“They don’t give scholarships, for your information, Dad. That’s the whole point. It’s for elite and rich kids and, let’s not forget, trust fund babies. Not for people like you and me.”

“No, baby,” he said. “I want you to learn the habit of being optimistic.”

“And I want you to learn the habit of not being delusional,” I shot back, frowning. “Not being optimistic has saved me from a lot. It has saved me from fooling myself into thinking you’ll ever be the father I want you to be. Now, please let me go.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he tilted his head, his gaze distant for a moment before his eyes lit up with an unnerving enthusiasm.

“You’re going to love it, Elowen. Just imagine: a big college, a gorgeous campus, parties on yachts, a better life.”

“A better life? How?” My brows shot up. “Mum died entrusting me to your hands. You barely make anything from your work, and even the little you do make, what do you use it for? Gambling? Smoking? You have never been there for me. Now what the hell are you saying?”

I stopped talking because I knew if I continued, I might tear up.

My father didn’t say anything after my outburst. He just held up his hand for me to see.

There, sitting on his ring finger, was a ring.

My jaw tightened.

“You’re a police officer and you don’t even live by what your profession preaches against. Who did you steal that from?” I asked coldly.

My father’s face twisted, his lips pulling into a frown as he stared at me. He looked hurt.

“Elowen,” he said quietly.

He rarely called my name. It was his favorite move whenever he was trying to communicate his hurt feelings and, in doing so, make me feel guilty enough to submit.

I shoved the guilt crawling up my chest away.

“Abandoning your daughter is no way to be a father,” I said, turning away.

I’d had enough.

I clenched my fists, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something worse.

“What are you trying to say to me?” I muttered, staring at the wall instead of him.

He exhaled slowly.

“Baby, if you tried paying attention to the news, you’d know why.”

I turned back to face him, arms crossed over my chest.

“I don’t care about rich people and their problems, Dad. I have enough of my own. You would’ve known that if you were present in my life.”

His lips twitched into a proud smile, one that immediately made me suspicious. I narrowed my eyes.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, ridiculously expensive-looking phone. He typed something quickly, his fingers clicking against the screen, before holding it out to me.

I hesitated, eyeing the phone before snatching it from his hand.

The headline made my stomach drop.

“Billionaire Heiress Mirabelle Knox Announces Engagement to Police Officer Cassian Vale.”