Chapter 66

I’m not a liar, so I do try to adhere to some of Neil’s schedule. I set my alarm and wake up when the schedule dictates. Mia is stirring by then, so it’s no big ask to take her into the kitchen for feeding time.

Steven is already there when I enter, eating a bowl of cereal. “Hi, Chloe. Hi, Mia.”

“Hello, Steven,” I say. Mia makes some nonsense noises.

I set Mia into her bouncy chair and go to her special fridge to begin to prepare her morning formula. As I work, Steven turns on his chair to look at me.

“So how are your classes going?” he asks.

I haven’t forgotten that I need to ask him for more help, but with everything going on, the opportunity never seemed to arise. Now, being asked so directly, I just feel embarrassed.

“I’m still having a bit of trouble,” I tell him.

He hums. “Maybe you’d like more help?”

I was hoping he would offer on his own. “Please,” I say with relief.

He nods at me. “Sounds good. You want to swing by my room later?”

I open my mouth to say yes, but then I stop myself, remembering my schedule. Neil didn’t put study time with Steven on the list. If I want to get help without upsetting him, I should ask him first.

How absolutely ridiculous.

Worse, is that I’m actually considering doing it, if only to avoid the hassle later. Neil didn’t make any concrete threats to me, like Archer usually does, but the implication was clear.

If I want freedom, I have to earn it.

I hate it here.

“I’ll have to talk to Neil about it first,” I say, hating what I’m saying. Surely it comes out that way too, each word punched out of me.

Steven eats a spoonful of his cereal, chews, then says, “I’ve heard about your new schedule.”

It feels like an invitation for me to voice my feelings so I latch onto it. “It’s impossible. There’s no way I could keep up with it. Neil is really pushing it too far this time.”

Steven takes another bite. His reluctance to answer right away makes me feel like maybe I made a mistake opening my big mouth. He’s still a Hayes, after all. He’s likely on his brothers’ side more than mine, even if he treats me kinder than the rest.

“I know it seems harsh,” Steven says after a moment. “But my brothers really are watching out for you in their own way.”

“By trying to control every facet of my life? I doubt it.” I sigh. “I know I’m only here as some kind of underling, but the way they make me feel sometimes… like I’m less than dirt.”

“It’s our responsibility to protect you,” Steven says. “Like the lords protect their serfs.”

Their serfs? What the hell does Steven think I am? No, he’s as bad as the rest of them.

“You see me as lesser,” I say. It’s an accusation.

“Is that a problem?” he asks. He’s not even mean about it. He seems genuinely confused. Which makes it so much worse.

I can’t hate him because he’s not being hateful. He’s just grown up in a bubble and has no idea how it feels to be on the outside of it.

“This is how class systems work,” he says. “Not everyone is on top. That’s natural.”

“Stop talking,” I say. I’m over this conversation. All of the Hayes brothers can take a long walk off a short pier for all I care.

Steven looks no less confused, but he at least gives me space. He continues eating his cereal, and I feed Mia. We don’t talk again.

When I return Mia to her playroom, Archer is there waiting for me. He’s leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

I pretend not to see him. Instead, I put Mia down in her playpen and spread some blocks around for her to play with.

“You won’t be seeing Tide again,” Archer says as soon as I’m upright. He kicks off the wall and unhooks his arms. He stays two feet away, his hands in fists at his sides.

Great, he’s starting the conversation off angry. For once, I’d like to see him when he’s not annoyed. The world would probably end first.

Well, his words reveal at least one thing: he’s talked with Beau. Maybe they all share a group chat where they sit around and complain about the nanny. It seems outrageous, but then, everything about the Hayes brothers is over the top.

Archer doesn’t like being ignored. He takes another step towards me.

I feel like a broken record when I say, “I can be friends with whoever I want.”

“No,” he says. “You can’t.”

I glare at him, but he’s already glaring back. His is much more intimidating than my own. He reaches out and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts my head so that my poorly-covered bruise angles toward him.

“If I hear that you talked to that coward again, I will give him a bruise that matches yours.” Archer swiped away my makeup. His eyes narrowed. “No. I’ll return this tenfold.”

“Tide didn’t hit me.”

“No. But he’s responsible none the less.”

In another life, or with another boy, I might think of this reaction of his as somewhat protective. Knowing Archer like I do, I could never convince myself now that this is true.

If Archer is protective of me, it’s only the way a child guards their favorite toy. He doesn’t care about me as a person. He only sees me as his possession – a toy, to be used and discarded.

“Why do you care anyway?” I rip my chin from his grasp. He lets me go and I back up a step, adding some space between us.

“I don’t need to give you a reason.”

I wish he ever gave me a straight answer. Although, if he did, I probably wouldn’t like whatever he says.

“What don’t you understand,” he says, stepping closer again. I back up but he keeps closing the distance. Eventually, my back hits the wall and I can’t go any further. He steps into my space, his chest so close to mine that if I breath too hard, I would brush up against him.

“You belong to us. To me. When someone hurts you, it falls to us to get revenge.”

I jut my chin up in defiance. “I don’t need you to do that.”

His eyes narrow. “It’s not about you. It’s about us, and protecting what’s ours. If this boy is your friend and you want him unharmed, you will avoid him for his own sake. Or I will personally make him suffer for that bruise on your face, tenfold.”

Archer always speaks with fierce intensity, like he dares the whole world to stand against him. But now, his words come out with a dangerous, dagger-like edge.

This isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.

What can I do but obey him, when he makes that kind of vow?

Ug, I hate him. I hate that he gives me these ultimatums. That he threatens others to keep me in my place.

Mostly, though, I hate that I don’t hate him. That even now, his closeness has desire itching under my skin. That it is taking everything in me not to lean into the warmth of his hard body.

“Why do you make my life so miserable?” I snap.

He stares at me for a moment, then tips his head to one side. Then he lets his gaze dip down the length of my body. My nipples harden under the attention of his gaze, pressing up into my shirt.

He leans closer. His lips near my ear, he whispers roughly, “You like it.”