MY BROTHER'S BESTFRIEND

Chapter 8: Ruin me

WARNING! There is smut in this chapter so read at your own risk.

Chapter 8 - Ruin me

Jake's Point of View

The call ends, and I'm still staring at the wall like it's supposed to give me answers. My phone's hot in my hand. Not from the battery - from the weight of what was just said.

"You're not a kid anymore, Jake. It's time you step the fuck up."

That's what he said. Word for word. Voice low, cold, and so calm it made me feel like I was ten again, standing in front of him with bloody knuckles after getting into my first fight. He talked about the company like it's a legacy. Like it's some kind of gift and not a chain. Graham Enterprises. His pride. His kingdom. His fucking weapon. And he wants to hand it to me like I should be grateful. Like I didn't grow up watching what it did to him - to my mother - to all of us.

"You know how to do business. Just like me."

I want to throw the phone. Smash it against the wall until it cracks in half and stops echoing his voice in my head. But I don't. I just stand there. Chest tight. Jaw locked. The air feels too heavy to breathe.

I haven't even told anyone he called.

Not Mason. Not Connor. Not a single soul.

Because deep down, I know they wouldn't get it. They don't know what it's like to have a father who molds you into something for himself. Not because he loves you - but because he wants to control every fucking part of your life. Even when he's hundred of miles away.

I shove the phone into my pocket and walk back into the party like nothing happened, but everything feels weird. The lights are too bright. The music is too loud. People are smiling like this is the best night of their lives and all I want to do is scream until my voice rips out of my throat.

I grab the first bottle I see - whiskey - and pour it into a red solo cup. No ice. No mixer. Just straight fire. I drink half of it before I move, the burn grounding me. I want to feel nothing.

Or maybe I want to feel everything - all at once.

The room sways a little. My head's full of static. I drink again. And again. Until my throat is raw and the voice in my head starts to fade.

And then I see her.

Valerie.

Leaning against the far wall like she's watching the room from a distance. Detached. Her expression unreadable, like she built a wall around herself and dares anyone to try to climb it. She looks fucking lethal tonight. Black dess hugging every inch of her. Hair wild. Eyes sharp. There's something about her that makes it hard to look away - like she's chaos dressed in silk, and I'm just stupid enough to want to touch it.

I move toward her before I can stop myself.

She notices me before I reach her. her gaze flicks down, then back up - slow and assessing.

"You good?" she asks, cool and even.

"Yeah." Lie. "You?"

"I'm good. You were gone for a while."

I shrug. I don't say my father called to remind me I'm just a puppet in his fucking game. I don't say I feel like punching someone in their face. I don't say anything.

She doesn't push. Just takes a sip of her drink and waits.

"You look like shit," she says after a beat.

I smirk, trying to forget about the phonecall. "And you look like trouble."

Her lips twitch, showing she's in a playful mood. "So why are you still standing here?"