I was a guarded individual, with little to no trust in me, except for those I deemed trustworthy enough. In other words, I was completely hopeless.

But at the same time it wasn’t my fault . . . partly.

I blamed most of it on my father, and of course the lifestyle he chose to raise me in. I seriously couldn’t see eye to eye with someone like Sammy. It was no wonder he hated me so much.

Over the years, I’d grown to appreciate the staff of the mansion, as well as grandma and her intentions to help me, no matter how tough they were. The reason why I labeled so many people as ‘leeches’ was because . . . well . . . I’d known one too many.

And with Sammy, I still wasn't sure if he was someone I could ever trust. We did not know one another, so why should I have opened up to him? I knew that was what he wanted. Though I hardly accepted to do it.

The thing about Sammy though, was that he was the kind of person to never hide anything from anyone. Or maybe he was just too easy to read?

His temper was certainly something I’d never known in any acquaintance. He was like a bomb, ready to explode at any mere moment. I had to admit it was admirable to not give a shit about what anyone thought. Sammy was, and remained, the only person I’d met who’d give me my two cents on how terrible a person I was, all the while saying it to my face without the slightest indication of remorse.

So why in the hell had he treated me as gently as he did that night in bed? I would’ve suspected a violent reaction from him, but in the end I got something a lover would do.

Was he messing with me? He didn’t appear to do so. In fact, I believed he had no idea what he was doing at all. That was what scared me. Because actions spoke louder than words, and if those certain actions revealed he was actually truthful about wanting to help me—then maybe I needed to rethink my strategy.

Still, after a few days since that time, he snapped at me whenever he felt like it. It was like I was dealing with an insufferable cat, a creature that held both love and bite. What was I to do with such a person?

It’d been weeks in his company and I remained as confused as ever when it came to being with him at all times, at his side, listening to every scolding he could muster in whatever language he could speak (mostly Spanish). After a time I came to realize I’d grown used to it.

If grandma knew, she’d laugh in my face.

That was why I didn’t utter a thing in her presence at the moment. She was sitting behind her large desk, the one that was twice her size. It was a strange feeling, just the two of us there. Two kindred spirits who were alike and yet so unreachable from each other.

I held my hands behind my back, waiting for her to stop writing. She was always working on paperwork. I wondered if she ever had the time to stop.

Today, she was severe as she always was, with a green dress this time and hair tightly pushed up into a bun. Her hard expression was filled with concentration. I didn’t dare disturb her.

She looked up at me suddenly, while I raised a brow at her.

“Yes, grandma?” I asked, speaking to her in our native tongue. She always preferred that when we were discussing matters alone.

The grand lady dropped her writing to sit forward, eyes glistening in the darkened office as she replied in the same language, “I called you here for a reason, Luka.”

“And what reason is that?”

“I want to ask you about Sammy.” She said simply, placing the expensive pen in her hands down onto the table.

I was silent as I thought over what to reply. How could one describe the boy? It was difficult speaking to him, much less describing him.

She must’ve read my expression. “I guess you’re rather bewildered by him as well.”

“As well?” I questioned.

Grandma nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “What shocked me the most about him was our first encounter.”

I imagined the meeting. It must’ve been amusing, seeing those two.

“I expected him to apologize for breaking the dish but—” She paused to genuinely smile at the memory. It was something I hadn’t seen my grandmother do in a while. “He didn’t. He simply said he’d pay it back himself, in any way possible. I was under the impression he was protecting his mother . . .”

This made me think. I’d heard about him breaking that infamous dish, though I never pondered at how it came to be. Grandma really did entrust her belongings and herself too easily to others.

“I thought you’d have a lot more to say.” She said, somewhat disappointed at my quietness. “Has he not been working hard enough?”

“No.” I replied rather quickly, thinking back to the other night. I shook my head, hoping my face didn’t reveal the actions I’d done. “He’s . . . working harder than I originally assumed.”

“Is that so?” She smirked.

I didn’t say anything, I merely stood there with my lips shut.

Grandma returned to her writing, but not without continuing our conversation, “I have more news. From your father.”

“Father?” I asked, unconsciously taking a step back.

She spoke without looking up, “He’s holding the annual ball here in a few days. I’ve told the staff to prepare quite a while ago. Official preparations are underway—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I stopped her, walking towards the grand desk to place my hands on the smooth surface. Our identical eyes met, though hers were much fiercer.

She raised her chin, “Do you have a problem with that? It’s hardly something you can control.”

“No. It’s just . . .” I trailed off. Again, my thoughts were with Sammy. How infuriating was that?

“Are you afraid of further exposing Sammy to your world?” She questioned, “He’s already lived with us for more than a month.”

“I’m not scared.” I scoffed at her, crossing my arms.

Somehow, that felt like a lie. I’d only just gotten a part of him in the palm of my hands. The time was vital for me to get rid of him, but now this?

The ball father held every year was usually hosted in our home country of Russia. I doubted he had a change of heart, bringing it here to my mother’s home. This was all most likely to make me come to my senses and become the next heir to his cigarette empire.

If Sammy knew what my weakness was, then I’d be revealing all of myself to him, including my past and fears. And like I said in the beginning, I really, really did not want to do that.

I cursed under my breath. “Fine. Fine. We’ll do our best not to kill each other.”

“That’s all I want to hear.” She answered, with a pleasant tone in her voice. “Watch that he doesn’t bite your head off in the process. I can’t have my one and only heir incapable of taking my place.”

Without responding, I stepped away.

Even grandma was adamant that I take up the role as her replacement when the time came. This mansion, this money, all of it would be mine soon enough and yet—I didn’t want any of it, honestly.

I’d seen what it did to my mother, my father, my grandmother and even my ancestors. The mansion was built on an academy for juveniles too. This place held nothing but a mysterious sense of cursed wonder. It was a feeling I did not want to trust.

I only wanted to run away, to make my own mark elsewhere. Couldn’t someone take my place? I had more than enough cousins who thirsted for it.

After much thought, I came to the conclusion that running away, without telling anyone, would be the only way out of here. Truthfully, I was doing Sammy a great favor.

“We’ll do our best.” I promised her, hiding my darkened expression.

I’d do my best to make him leave before anything began to brew. As soon as he left, I’d leave too. Back to school, back to my friends, and back to the life I’d made for myself, far from here.

She gazed at me knowingly and smiled, “Of course you will.”

And with that, I departed the room.

“Lucas—!” A distant voice called out to me, but I ignored it.

Instead, I walked into my room and slammed the door behind me, gripping my bed railings, and hoping this cloudy darkness in my head would disappear.

I thought I’d be able to stay away from my problems for the summer. I didn’t expect them to come here all the way from Russia with my father.

I did not want to go to the ball. Though I knew father would be furious if I refused to show up as his esteemed son. He held my life like the strings of a puppet.

Behind, I could hear my door slam again, this time louder.

Sammy must’ve been furious.

Still, I continued to ignore him, despite hearing his usual scolding. I’ll admit, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffiness I’d just been in with grandmother.

I shut my eyes and exhaled slowly, gathering my mess of thoughts. I couldn’t show him my weakness. That was the last thing I needed to do.

“Sammy . . .” I disrupted his ongoing lecture. I didn’t even hear what he was saying. “Give me a moment . . .”

He stared up at me, visibly angry that I’d ignored him on my way to the bedroom. The boy placed a hand on his hip, waiting for me to speak.

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped from my lips.

He glared, “What? Do you find me funny?”

“Admittedly, yes.” I told him, running a hand through my hair. I breathed, knowing I wasn’t speaking to family anymore. “I merely needed a moment to compose myself. And yet here you are, scolding me as usual—”

“Well, usually people get mad when you don’t respond to their questions.” He muttered, pouting like a small child.

I reached out to mess his already messy hair. He shook me off.

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s in your care?” I asked.

He turned away from me, “Is this any way to treat people?”

“I thought your new intention was to seduce me?” I reminded him, watching as his confident stance stiffened at my mention.

Sammy continued to pout, “ . . . maybe so.”

“Then why don’t you distract me?” I offered, leaning forward to grab at his sweater.

He winced when I dragged him across the room to meet my eyes, “Why should I do that?”

“Because I’m a mess of thoughts right now and I want to be distracted.” I told him simply, sitting against the bed. “Or have you taken back your word?”

He grimaced at my accusation, as if he couldn’t bear to lose. That was how I could hook him into playing this game. “No.”

“Then—” I laid back, bringing him up to bend over me. “Do your very best.”

He looked down at my face, eyes still narrowed at mine. “What is this all about, really?”

His question struck me. Sammy was sharper than I thought. He could probably see that something was on my mind.

I waved him off, “Nothing too important to discuss right now.” With one swift movement, I brought his ear to my lips slowly, “But I’ll tell you a little about it if you—”

He tore himself from my hold, shifting himself atop me so that we were at equal level, “If I distract you, you’ll tell me what?”

“One thing.” I relished at his sudden confidence. Oh how I wanted to ruin it.

“Are you lying?”

“Why would I be?” I asked. “You’re straddling me, aren’t you?”

It was then that his face became quite red. “S-shut up.” He murmured, lifting himself up to kneel at my side.

I leaned on my arm, staring at him, “What?”

“You didn't look . . .” He searched for words, though they did not come out. “I don’t know.”

“Did I have something on my face?”

“No—it’s just—” Sammy adjusted his glasses, fists bundled in sweater paws. Despite not exactly saying it aloud, I knew what he was getting at.

I gave up, “Yes, I was troubled.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I thought over recent events. His concern wasn’t helping the fact that I wanted to expel them from my mind. “Because I was discussing something with my family.”

Sammy looked taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I responded, biting my lip.

He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s family business.”

I got up then, “You don’t want to know?”

“Well . . .” He shrugged, not meeting my eye. “It’s rude if you’re not exactly comfortable—”

“My father is coming.” I flat out told him, regarding his shocked expression.

He fell silent.

This wasn’t good, but he was bound to hear of the occasion sooner or later. There was no use keeping it a secret.

I laid back down on the bed, still with my gaze on him, “Sammy?”

“Can we not . . . see him?” He asked, so quietly I nearly missed it.

This was surprising. Why didn’t he want to meet father? If he surely was a leech, then why not go after the big prize? I grew suspicious. “Why don’t you want to?”

“Because, idiot, don’t you hate him?” He raised his voice.

This time, I was taken aback. “Pardon?”

“You’re so weird.” He spat, pouting once more. “I don’t want you to get hurt—”

Feeling overwhelmed at his response, I cut his explanation short, pushing him back against the bed and towering over him.

He didn’t waver.

“You’re . . . confusing . . .” I admitted, “Distract me.”

“How?”

I bent forward, “Kiss me.”

Sammy gripped my shoulders, “No.”

“Just one kiss.” I offered, pressing the tip of my nose against his.

His fingers delicately drew me away. “ . . . no.”

Gently, he cupped his hands around my face, peering up at me with round eyes. I took off his glasses, again noticing how different he looked without them.

“Why are you being stubborn?” I said lowly, regarding the way his breathing hitched at my question. “Let me kiss you once.”

He refused, “I can’t . . . let you do that.”

I became frustrated. This may have been the first time someone had refused my kiss. This was troubling, but I knew why he didn't want me to steal it. Though compared to what I thought, I didn't think kisses were all that special. 

He must've hated me a great deal. I could not blame him. I'd done so much to make him feel that way. A lot of it was my own fault. 

Sammy turned away. I could tell he was finished with my antics. Well, I was tired too. As much as I enjoyed teasing him, I figured that maybe I took things too far. It was amazing how he could sway my moods. 

Giving up, I gave him one last glance before lowering my head in the crook of his neck, sighing. 

He placed a hand on my back, steadying me. 

"It's so tiring . . . fighting . . ." I murmured absent-mindedly, forgetting about the kiss and thinking back to the situation with my father. "I'm tired." 

His hand stilled, frozen as if he was listening to what I was saying. I knew what I was doing, but—I couldn't stop talking. 

After a few minutes, I figured maybe it'd be better to bottle things in instead, even if that meant hurting inside, which is what I always tended to do. Because Sammy would never understand. Never. 

"I'm sorry." I said, whispering softly. 

This was all my fault.