God of Temptation

Chapter 50

~Remington~

"Ronan, seriously, cut it out," My mom's exasperated tone slices through the air like a butter knife. I shoot my dad a look—seriously, Dad, the clinginess is real. I'm tempted to bleach my eyes right here and now. I didn't agree to spend time with them just to witness my father trying to corner my mother.

"Is anyone of you going to watch the movie? Even Remi is behaving. Shocking, I know," Vivian quips, her eyes zeroing in on me.

Today she is spending time with us, mom literally stole her from Uncle Knox and brought us here to spend the night. 

"Excuse me? What do you mean by 'behaving'?" I straighten up, summoning my inner aristocrat. "How dare you address my Lordship with such insolence." 

Vivian sizes me up, her expression a delightful blend of disdain and nausea. "Your Lordship?" She makes a sound akin to a cat hacking up a hairball.

"Jealous of my lordship, are we, Viv?" I lean back, feigning nonchalance.

Mom and Dad are now background noise; it's a battle of wits between me and Vivian. She shoots me a half-smirk. "You're the one who's jealous, Remi?"

I scoff. The idea of being jealous of anyone other than Ariella is laughable. "Moi? Jealous of toi? The child we rescued from the backyard dumpster?"

Okay, fine, Vivian isn't adopted. But it's fun to mess with her. And if her grandfather Sergie came to know how I talked to her, I'll probably won't get to see the next dawn. 

"At least they wanted me," she retorts, her smirk now a full-blown grin.

"And they didn't want me?" I raise an eyebrow, ready to play this game.

"Seriously, kids, what are two about?" Mom swoops in, exasperated. "Ron, Remi's teasing Viv again."

"I know, ma'belle." Dad turns to me, his tone ominous. "Listen, brat, if your sister sheds a tear during this banter, I am going to beat you up."

"Oh, come on! She started it!" I protest. Unfairness has been my life's theme for 18 years.

"I don't care." Dad pivots to Vivian, planting a kiss on her forehead. "taquine-le plus de trésor."

Vivian giggles and sticks out her tongue. Childish, really.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out to find a message from an unknown number. "Ariella is leaving today," it reads.

I glance at the date, puzzled. It's too early for Ariella's departure. Her classes aren't supposed to start until next week. I had counted on having one more day to try and win her back. For weeks, I've danced on the precipice of vulnerability, seeking forgiveness. Two weeks of relentless pursuit, but all I've received in return is rejection after rejection.

"Dad," I whisper, my voice barely audible. What words can bridge the chasm between longing and regret?

He glances over, a hint of amusement in his eyes, but it fades as he takes in my expression. "What's going on, son?" he asks, his tone serious now.

And then, the confession spills forth, raw and unfiltered. "Ariella is leaving today." I feel my mom shooting me a knowing look. She knows what's coming next.

Dad's smile softens, lines etching deeper at the corners of his mouth. "And what's wrong with that?" he replies, his tone gentle yet challenging.

What's wrong? Everything and nothing. Ariella's departure is a symphony of missed chances, a crescendo of unsung melodies. It's the ache of unspoken words, the weight of a heart unclaimed.

As twilight paints the room, I draw courage from my father's gaze. "Nothing," I reply. "Nothing at all."

Vivian makes an exasperated sound in the back of her throat and mom bites her lips to hide a smile. Vivian rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. If it weren't for the Ariella-shaped storm cloud hanging over me, I'd unleash a torrent of nastiness in Viv's direction.

"Listen, son, you know why her leaving is bothering you. I won't harp on about it," Dad begins, his tone serious. "But if you think she is the woman, then pull the Astor move on her already."

"The Astor move?" I inquire, baffled. I had no idea such a thing existed.

But instead of Dad, it's Mom who takes the stage. Love glimmers in her eyes as she leans toward him. "Yes," she says, "it involves chasing one to the end of the world." Dad picks up the melody, grinning. "And that's kind of not fun—for you, not me." His gaze drifts past us, a private conversation with Mom.

I glance at Viv, who meets my eyes. They've turned my misery into their own romantic duet. Unbelievable.

"Now I'm intrigued," Mom says, her smile a secret shared with Dad. He cups her face, planting a soft kiss on her nose. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Mom and Dad," I interrupt, snapping them out of their trance. Dad glares at me, a look that says, 'You've stolen Mom's dark chocolate.' Translation: He wants to beat me up.

"Just pull an Astor move on her," he advises, standing up with Mom. "Grovelling is your encore. Win her back. It works every time."

"But I've been literally grovelling for the past two weeks, Dad," I protest.

He raises a brow, a silent question. "Do you think that's enough for everything you put her through?"

And with that, they ascend the stairs, leaving me with the echo of their laughter and the haunting notes of an unfinished melody.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there's beauty in this farewell. Maybe it's time to rewrite the script, to seize the final act. To tell Ariella what my heart has whispered all along. The Astor move—chasing love to the end of the world—is my final refrain.