Page 73 of Crush
His eyes flick to mine. Permission granted.
“Why is Damion Briar married to your wife?”
For all appearances, Malcolm remains poised. I’m not looking for polite Societal varnish, though. I can spot the anguish behind his expression.
Malcolm presses his lips together, turning them white, before releasing them. “You’ve had enough time with the Societies to realize how committed they are to challenges.”
I’m beyond shell-shocked to hear an answer cross his lips, but all I do is reach for my fork, pretending calm and hoping my fingers aren’t shaking. “I call them dares.”
“Dares. That’s apt.” Malcolm nods once. “Then you can assume I lost a dare.”
My shock isn’t as well hidden this time. “She’s a person. This is the 21st century. You can’t marry people off like pawns.”
“Can’t you?”
The calm with which he states the question sends revulsion down my spine. “She would’ve had a say. How could Julie…” willingly go to another man because of a twisted game these assholes play?
I don’t need to finish my question for Malcom to search my face and understand. “Ember, the Societies, the Nobles and Virtues, are not to be trifled with. As soon as you enter into their fold, they have your social security number. Your bank accounts. Your GPA, your diploma, everything that makes you who you are on this earth. And they can manipulate it however they want.”
“You’re saying they could bury you, so you gave them Julie.” I fall back into my seat, slack-jawed.
He shakes his head. “It’s so easy to put it that way, isn’t it? For as long as I can remember, Damion was determined to win the kingship of the Nobles. You haven’t gone through the history of the Societies yet, but he has a direct line to the founders. His great-great-grandfather was Theodore Briar, the brother of the principal creator of the Nobles. Thorne Briar.”
The name clangs a bell in my head all too easily. I think of their death masks put on display in Damion’s office.
“But,” Malcolm continues, “the founder lineage can be usurped, as the original chapter in Rhode Island has shown us. So, while Damion’s heritage was strong, it wasn’t a given, and he acted as such.” Malcolm leans forward on his elbows, closer to me. “Ember, I’ve been going through the rigors of these Societies since I was fourteen years old with that man across the street, who sold his soul to a demon in order to get a piece of Society power. Damion was grueling, even as a child. Demanding, unforgiving, and concrete in his challenges to others, including me. Especially me.”
I run through the facts in my head. “But you’re not a direct heir, are you? Why did Damion see you as competition? Is it because of this house?”
Malcolm cocks his head at me.
“Weatherby Manor,” I clarify. “I know it was originally owned by the first Thorne Briar.”
“Indeed, it was.” Malcolm leans back, studying me like he’s impressed. “Our great-great-grandfather won a challenge against the late Thorne Briar when they were in their early twenties, I believe. Thorne was just married and living in Rhode Island at the time, but Damion inherits his egotistical nature from him. Thorne believed he was untouchable, even when he wasn’t here. So he challenged our ancestor, Gordon Weatherby, to leap off the cliffs at Winthorpe in the black of night and survive. If he did, he’d get the house. At the time, the Weatherbys weren’t well off, so Gordon couldn’t resist. And as you know, he won the dare and thus began the domino effect of dominating the Briars. Shortly after, he created the business I now run.” Malcolm’s eyes flicker for a moment before going silent, then taking a deep breath as if to shake himself out of a painful memory. “I believe that’s what landed us on their radar in the first place.”
“But, you’re not challenging Damion’s place in the Nobles. Yet he hates you.”
Malcolm offers a melancholy smile. “One doesn’t need to be in line for a throne to be considered a rival. Where Damion was weak, I was strong. Sports, academics, girls. Almost valedictorian, until he made sure that wasn’t a possibility. This is how deep his insecurities run. Damion made it a principle goal to ensure I would not only be forever underneath him but that I would be last.”
And you stopped fighting. I stare at Malcolm, this man I share DNA with. Will I stop fighting, too? “Damion’s hatred of you has stretched past high school. Into college and adulthood.”
“Oh, especially then.”
“But … Julie.” Despite what I saw at the Briar’s ball a month ago, I still can’t comprehend why a woman of her own mind would agree to such a fucked-up wife swap.
A wistful, relaxed expression crosses Malcolm’s features as he gazes up at the ceiling. I can’t see the memories, but his face alone explains the story. “We started dating at the end of my time at Berkeley.”
I do the math. “But that lines up with me. I thought you said Julia isn’t my mother.”
Malcolm closes off. “She’s not.”
“Then why…?” I catch my lower lip in thought, keeping his stare. “Did you cheat on Julie with someone?”
Fire seems to bloom in his cheeks, his eyes glowing the hottest. “I did not.”
I can’t relent. This is the exact time I would’ve been put into existence in some strange woman’s womb. And she’s only a stranger because Malcolm won’t tell me who she is. “Is she really dead? My biological mother?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t lie about that. Your birth mother passed away during childbirth.”