Askai now stopped looking at kids who held their parent's hand at the crossing while going to school. He wasn't one of them and never would be. He didn't want to be. That day, he drew a deep, uncrossable line between their world—the careless, entitled world of the drivers and the parents—and his. He swore he would never let them destroy his world again. He would survive, and he would build a wall so high that their indifference, their casual violence, could never reach him or those he loved.
He was never going to apologize for that. He had made it his mission in life to deposit the gems of the East in the tombs they deserved.
He suddenly stood up from the bed, the movement abrupt and tense, leaving Vance staring after him, momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
"You are surely mistaken, Vance," Askai said, his voice flat and terse, laced with genuine annoyance. "I am no rich kid in want of your protection. How about you leave me alone and let your altruistic self find someone who really needs your help?"
Vance stared after the mouthy brat who seemed intent on shredding his last nerve. Who was he fooling with his 'no-rich kid' nonsense? All that ingrained arrogance and snippy attitude, disconnected from reality, would either have landed him in an early grave or into the bed of some perverted degenerate in the West.
Yet, here he was, roaming the polished halls of Nolan University like some little princeling. Vance had noticed the cold, challenging looks Askai gave Steve, looks that promised a swift, brutal retribution if provoked.
Vance could understand if Askai was unwilling to accept financial help from his father, besides the tuition, but he could always ask him.
"Why are you making it so complicated, Askai? I am offering you everything you could possibly need. Just take it." Vance's voice was laced with profound exasperation, completely missing the mark. "What possible lure could those degenerates from the West hold for you?" he asked, completely disgusted by the young fool's apparent infatuation with the forbidden. They treated the West like some cheap, spicy thrill.
"At least those degenerates were honest. I know what they want in return," Askai countered, his eyes hardening. "What do you want, Vance?"
"Don't pretend that you don't know the answer," Vance drawled, a dark challenge in his eyes.
Askai knew what Vance wanted, and it was not something Askai couldn't offer. Vance found him as alluring as half the population of the opposite sex. Askai was no naive virgin either who didn't know what he wanted. Casual sex with no strings attached—that was the most ideal, uncomplicated relationship in Askai's life, which itself could end any day without notice or consequence.
But with powerful magnets like Vance—men whose desire could become absolute obsession—one never knew when their infatuation would become a chokehold, trapping you as a wingless bird in a golden cage. Askai had lived in the West too long; he observed a threat from even a great distance, reading the subtle shifts in power and possessiveness.
If circumstances served as evidence, Askai had probably ended up here drugged and captured, all to soothe Vance's worry over his self-presumed "safety." How many times had he himself hunted down prostitutes who ran away from their disgruntled masters, only to be dragged back by brute force?
But was he really willing to flee from Vance? He would be lying if he didn't admit that Vance came with a bundle of intoxicating secrets, and true to his own nature, Askai was dangerously attracted to them. Vance was sculpted like a Roman God, and Askai would have loved to find out what roaming his hands over that marble-hard body would have felt like.
But he was a forbidden fruit, a threat to his carefully guarded freedom.
He cleared his thoughts with a visible effort and asked Vance for his bag.
"You are going nowhere until I am satisfied that you are not returning to the West," Vance said, his voice dropping to a decisive tone that warranted no protest. It was an order. It instantly ruffled Askai's fiercely guarded feathers.
"You are no one to decide that," Askai snapped back, stepping closer, his jaw tight. "I can go whenever I want, wherever I want. Last time I checked, I was a free man."
Vance's lips lifted in a smug, predatory smirk. He started—"I see…"—
Then, suddenly, the phone rang on the desk Askai was standing next to. The caller ID displayed one stark, formal word: 'Uncle'. Before the call could go unanswered, Vance swiftly walked to Askai, moving with a panther-like speed that was startling, and snatched the phone.
The amusement instantly disappeared from his face; his muscles tightened visibly beneath his tailored shirt. Askai could feel him stiffening up next to him.
Vance answered the phone and raised it to his ear. A deep, authoritative voice sounded from the other side, and Vance abruptly started walking away, toward the far corner of the room. The beautiful, arrogant expression left his face, replaced by a haunted, utterly cold look of deference and tension. He left the room without a word, leaving Askai standing cold in his wake, dismissed and abandoned.
Askai had meant to leave by all means, but he had not expected to be dismissed so abruptly. He would rather die than admit that he often enjoyed their tense, charged banter, often forgetting that Vance was the pinnacle of all the arrogance and privilege he so much abhorred.
He tried to leave the room, hoping to pick up his bag from somewhere near the shoe-rack where the East End elites often preferred the West and its contaminated belongings should stay.
He had barely opened the door when he was greeted by a wall of muscle blocking his way. Askai abruptly stepped back, staring up at the mountain of a man—blond buzz cut, neck like an oak trunk, and scary big, unblinking eyes.
"We have orders to not let you out. Your bag is in that green wardrobe, and breakfast would be served in fifteen minutes. Enjoy!" the man grunted, before slamming the heavy door in Askai's face with a resounding thud.
So that was what that bastard meant when he smirked! He had let his dogs loose on him. The audacity of that man!
Wait until he figures out how to breach this fortress. Not like he hasn't done this before.