Page 33 of Threaded Lies

“That’s total bullshit.” Rothschild takes a step forward, his chest square. “Do you know who we are?”

Darren’s expression gives nothing away. “Members of the Westmore Country Club,” he says without flinching.

“Yep. And you’re just pieces of shit who live on the other side of the river,” Vanderbilt scoffs.

“The hired help,” another one of them mutters.

“More like the insane hired help,” Porter says. “One joke and the asshole loses his mind.”

It hits me.

They don’t know. They don’t have the fuckingest clue who I am or that Mason is … was my brother.

There’s another knock on the closed door that typically is open. “Closed for quick maintenance,” my coworker says through the door. “Be open in five.”

“Like I said,” Darren repeats. “This never happened. Simpson tripped. He fell into you accidentally. That’s all.”

“Total fucking bullshit is what it is,” Chadwick says.

“Maybe so. Maybe not. You’re welcome to try me.” Darren stands his ground in the space between me and them as my body continues to vibrate with a rage like I’ve never known before. Darren lifts his chin in their direction. “Pretty sure you should head out that door about now.”

Six pairs of disbelieving eyes stare at us but feet start to shift and eventually they move toward the door still being guarded by my coworker.

“Total bullshit.”

“What the fuck, man.”

“Are you really not going to tell your dad?”

Their muttering continues as my coworker shuts the door at their back and then leans against it almost as if he’s guarding it for us.

Darren turns on me now, his expression flustered but mouth silent.

“Why’d you protect me?” I ask as my hands still tremble and my pulse still pounds in my ears.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles. “I might have just fucked us both, but shit, man, those little pricks terrorize everyone, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, still processing what I just risked.

“Fuckers get away with way too much.”

You don’t know the half of it.

“You didn’t have to risk your job for me.” I scrub a hand over my cheek that’s pounding. No doubt it’s red or will be soon enough.

“True, but it’s the least I can do. Your mom helped my mom get a job a while back.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” His smile is quick but there. “The office building over on Front Street. She worked there until she moved the hell out of here. So … it’s the least I could do.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say nothing. I know you need this job. I know you’re dealing with something … but man, maybe you shouldn’t go picking a fight with the fucking sons of the town royalty. That’s a goddamn death wish.”

A death wish.

If only he knew how right he was.