PROLOGUE: PVC & TLC
KORVIN
Fifteen years ago
“Take that thing off.”
Frowning behind the heavy-duty vinyl, I roll my eyes and look out the window, watching as we creep up the miles-long driveway toward what I can only imagine is going to be a disgustingly lavish mansion.
The cobblestone is a dead giveaway.
Who has an entire driveway, one that has to be at least three miles long and two and a half cars wide, made of cobblestone?
Snobby motherfuckers with a ton of cash, that’s who.
Because we aren’t in merry old England, nor are we defying the laws of physics and relativity by time traveling back to the Victorian era.
This property makes you wonder, though.
We had to get clearance through not one buttwoiron gates, the first with a call box and the second with a tower and little guard house thingy. My dad had to give proof of who we all are at both, and I swear he was going to shit his pants when the bigdude with a sniper rifle stepped out of his booth and walked up to the driver door.
Snickering to myself, my eyes stay fixed out the window of our Taurus, bouncing between the privacy hedge and stupid topiaries, catching glimpses of more men with guns and obvious earpieces scattered around the expansive lawn.
The closer we get to the house, the less this looks like a barbecue with one of Dad’s coworkers and more like we’re meeting with a mafia don because of some offer he can’t refuse.
It doesn’t help that I think my father is a pussy who’s actually dealing in some seriously shady business, the kind that requires armed guards and top tier security forbarbecues. And my mother? She’s no better. Mom is honestly the perfect counterpart for the sniveling little weasel working in illegal matters. She’s a conniving bitch who’ll climb anyone like a tree as long as she thinks they have a fat wallet, and she’ll do it with little regard for who she digs her pointy knockoff stilettos into while working her way up.
I don’t know who we’re here to see but I can guarantee if good old Mom hasn’t slept with them yet, she will by the time we leave, and Daddio will definitely be there to kiss the pretentious fuck’s ass as soon as he pulls his dick out of the weak little omega’s wife.
Such is life.
This has been their dynamic, theirlife planfor as far back as I can remember, and that’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my glowing opinion of my parents.
I wonder if there's other couples where the female is the alpha and work the way they do?
Hopefully not, I’m sure if that was the case, the divorce rate would quadruple what it actually is.
Or maybe there’d be a spike in reported cases of domestic violence that ended in murder.
I know if I matched with someone who was like either of my parents, I’d be looking at some hard time. Either that, or I’d go take a long drive off a short cliff.
“Korvin,” my mother hisses as the car comes to a complete stop. “I said take that off.”
Ignoring her again, I open my door and step out onto the driveway, tugging at the collar of my shirt while I walk around to the other side of the Ford.
I nod to the valet, who’s staring at me like I have a horn growing from the middle of my forehead and a big bushy tail wagging behind me, then grab the door handle.
What a dumbass.
I can smell the fear on him, that nasty bite of citrusy sweat on the backside of his scent.
Bet he’s a beta.
He’s got the build for it. Not very imposing or even a little impressive, not like the bastard’s standing on the gigantic covered porch in front of the cathedral doors on the grossly over the top house.
They’re definitely alphas but even knowing their designation doesn’t account for how big they are.
Must be steroids.
