The Shark (Kingston College Book 2)

by Vivica Dorn

  They entered the main lobby of the house. The main floor was largely open concept, stretching out in all directions with polished concrete floors and windows on all sides. Straight ahead and a little to the left of them was a large chef’s kitchen dominated by stainless steel and polished chrome finishes. An espresso machine glittered on the counter above a small wine fridge, and copper pots dangled artfully from a hanging display. Much of the rest of the kitchen counters, as Lance had predicted, were dominated by all manner of luxurious appetizers: Medjool dates wrapped in salted prosciutto, grilled asparagus and smoked salmon salad, fresh mozzarella balls drizzled with 25 year-old premium Modena balsamic vinegar, smoked duck skewers smothered in lavender orange sauce, a charcuterie board piled high with quality meats and imported cheeses, a tray with pastel-coloured macarons and miniature cakes, and of course several open bottles of the finest wines. To the right of the entryway was a sunken living room with a fireplace feature that grew right out of the ground and appeared to float in the centre of the room, casting warm, flickering light over the.

  Andrea immediately dumped her coat in Lance’s arms and fluttered away to chat with the other guests. Lance rolled his eyes but didn’t complain – he was used to Andrea’s whimsical nature by now. He deposited her coat into the closet by the door, then reached for Finn’s.

  “Thanks,” Finn murmured, handing Lance his jacket absentmindedly, taking in the place.

  Lance felt his expression soften, and he leaned in closer than necessary to let Finn know that there was food in the kitchen and that he should help himself.

  Lance could practically see Finn salivate as he laid eyes on the spread.

  “You sure?” He asked, as if wanting to make sure Lance would be ok in his own home, surrounded by his own family. The fact that he was willing to put Lance’s comfort before his stomach was touching, and the warmth in Lance’s voice was genuine as he replied.

  “Please, go right ahead.”

  Finn didn’t need any more encouragement than that as he made a beeline for the kitchen. Lance watched him go and felt the room grow colder with every step further away he took. Sighing, he turned toward the living area where the majority of the guests had gathered. He didn’t see his father here yet, but no doubt would soon.

  CHAPTER 19

  Finn had no idea how long he had been in the kitchen. All sense of time (and frankly, place) disappeared into a haze of hunger followed by salty and sweet satisfaction. While other guests milled in and out of the kitchen, grabbing a bite or two here and there, or a glass of wine to take back with them to their conversations, Finn took up a basically permanent position at the kitchen counters, ploughing his way through possibly the best food he had ever tasted. He wasn’t worried about being a hog, though – there was probably three times more food prepared than was necessary for a group this size.

  As he washed down a delicious bite of lighter-than-air lemon cake with a swig of perfectly-chilled sparkling white wine, he realized he hadn’t seen Lance in a while. He had been so focused on stuffing his face he had completely lost track of him. He quickly finished the last sips from his wine glass, then carefully placed the glass into the industrial-sized double-basin sink before abandoning his self-appointed kitchen post. A quick scan of the living area told him that Lance wasn’t there, so Finn turned to the hallway that led further into the house, beyond the kitchen, and he began to walk.

  There was only one doorway in this hall, on the right, that led into a gigantic bathroom.

  Not in there, obviously, he said to himself, noting the open door.

  He continued down the hallway, realizing there was another door, slightly ajar, at the very end.

  He stopped just short of entering the room, wondering if this was appropriate, wondering if he should stop right there and turn himself around.

  Well, the door’s open...

  He figured it was innocent enough. He truly wasn’t trying to snoop, and would only peek inside to see if Lance was there.

  It turned out Lance wasn’t there. But other traces of him were, Finn realized, as he stepped into Lance’s old room, all determination not to pry replaced with burning curiosity.

  Unsurprisingly, the room was perfectly organized. The desk in the corner was completely bare besides a few books on a shelf above it. The large bed was crisply made, and aside from a framed photo and a lamp on the bedside table, there was really nothing else to see inside the room. It represented a stark contrast to Lance’s apartment on campus which, though also organized and obsessively clean, was warm and comfortable and had some semblance of a real person living there.

  Finn found his eyes drawn again to the one interesting object in the room – the photograph on the nightstand. Though he knew that he should back away, though he knew that he should leave and close the door on all of this, he found himself stepping forward and lifting the frame to his face, squinting in the dim light.

  The picture featured a beautiful woman with a broad, exuberant smile and masses of rich coppery hair. Finn recognized her as the same woman who had been in the photos at George’s funeral. Looking closer, he realized he also recognized the small child, maybe 5 or 6 years old, who she was kneeling lovingly next to: it was Lance.

  “So that’s where you ended up.”

  Lance’s deep voice startled Finn so badly that he almost dropped the photo. He whipped around, instinctively tucking the frame behind his back as he did so, hands sweating. Lance leaned against the doorframe, almost filling the entire space with his height, his arms crossed and his head cocked slightly. In the darkness of the unlit room, Finn couldn’t gauge the expression on his face. Then again, he often couldn’t tell what the brooding older swimmer was thinking.

  “Hey!” He exclaimed, his voice coming out at a much higher pitch than he had intended. “Um, sorry about that. I was looking for you and I... just... kind of ended up here.” Sheepishly, he pulled the photo out from behind his back and placed it back where he had found it. Lance said nothing, remaining silent and stone-like in the doorway. Finn took a breath – since he couldn’t tell if Lance was already angry or not, he decided to take a chance and just ask the question that was on his mind.

  “Is that your mom?”

  Lance uncrossed his arms and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Finn’s heart rate immediately sped up, though from fear or anticipation, he couldn’t tell.

  “Yes,” Lance answered, his voice suddenly sounding exhausted. “Her name was Selene. She died about 10 years ago in a car accident.”

  Finn sucked in a breath and nodded. He had suspected something along those lines. The fact that Lance had never mentioned her, and that she hadn’t been at her own father’s funeral, had been fairly obvious clues, but Finn hadn’t been quite sure and didn’t want to assume.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn whispered, staring down at the floor.

  Lance placed a gentle finger under Finn’s chin, tipping his face back up.

  “That’s the second time in less than a week you’ve apologized for my family’s tragedies,” Lance murmured. A slight quirk at the corner of his mouth let Finn know he was joking, and he felt the tension in his shoulder loosen. Just a little.

  Finn cleared his throat as Lance pulled his hand away. Searching for something to say to lighten the mood, he seized upon the first thing he thought of.

  “So, this house is pretty unreal. I guess you really are a spoiled rich kid, huh?”

  Lance frowned slightly. Well, that backfired, Finn berated himself.

  “As a child, I suppose. But I haven’t taken a cent from my father in years.”

  “Really?” Finn’s eyebrows contracted incredulously. “But the train tickets, and the hotel, and your fucking apartment!”

  Lance nodded, then spoke.

  “In my first year of university I designed a better technique for securing foundations in sandy or otherwise unstable ground. I sold the patent for the accompanying technology for nearly half a million dollars and made
some wise investments with those funds that have paid off better than I had expected.”

  Half a million dollars... Finn felt his mouth drop open. He couldn’t even fathom that kind of money, especially as an 18 year-old, just barely entering the world. And the fact that it was worth even more than that now was totally mind-boggling. It made sense, and he believed Lance implicitly, but it felt like Lance was leaving something out, that some key detail was missing.

  “Why do I feel like there’s more to that story than you’re telling me?” Finn asked bluntly.

  Lance half-smiled, half-grimaced, as if he knew he had been caught but appreciated it, anyway.

  “I sold the patent to a large architectural engineering firm. A firm that represents probably the biggest competition my father’s company has in the entire country.”

  Holy shit.

  “Ah,” Finn replied, nodding slowly. “So that’s why -”

  “Why my relationship with my father is so,” he paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “strained? Yes, that’s why. At least partially.”

  “Partially?”

  Lance’s gaze shifted to somewhere in the distance, as if he were trying to figure out how to begin.

  “Well, I had a reason for selling it to a direct competitor. Ever since I was in high school, my father has determined that I’m going to work at his firm, then eventually take it over. And I had, and still have, absolutely no interest in doing that. But no matter what I did or said, he wouldn’t let it go, wouldn’t stop trying to determine the course of my life. So when I realized I had something of value, something that could really revolutionize the industry, I chose not to share it with him, and to go to the competition instead.”

  Lance sighed, harshly, and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then, and I’m not sure that I would have done the same thing now. But at the time, it felt like the only way to assert myself, to try to find my own way.”

  Finn found himself nodding again, slowly digesting what Lance had told him. One thing still didn’t add up, though, and in typical Finn fashion he blurted it out without thinking of the repercussions.

  “But I don’t get it. If you didn’t want to do what your dad wanted, if you wanted to escape his plan so badly, why did you study to become a civil engineer? Why not be a painter or a dog-walker or literally anything else?”

  Lance regarded him silently in the dark, and Finn pressed on.

  “I think you guys are more alike than you want to admit. Even when I saw you together at the funeral I was struck by how similar you seemed...”

  Finn’s voice finally faltered when he noticed how Lance’s expression had changed. It had morphed into a dark mask of familiar rage, one Finn had seen time and time again but that hadn’t surfaced in the past couple of days. Lance remained perfectly, alarmingly still, like a predator poised in the grass. Finn swallowed, throat feeling tight and dry.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER 20

  I think you guys are more alike than you want to admit...

  The words inflamed Lance beyond belief, filling his chest with sick lava, and he fought, hard, for control. How was it that Finn could say and do things with so little thought that pierced him to his very core? With barely a cursory glance at the situation, he had managed to make the one observation that would hurt Lance most. In fact, Finn’s very existence had completely exploded his entire world, and he was no longer sure how comfortable he was with that fact. The boy was too unpredictable, too boisterous, too much.

  “It’s time to go. I’ve called a cab,” Lance gritted out, trying to keep the hostility out of his voice. That was why he had come to find Finn in the first place – to let him know it was time to leave. Most of the other guests had already dispersed into the rapidly worsening weather, and Lance figured that by the time they emerged, the last stragglers would have left.

  Finn pursed his lips, eyes pleading.

  “Lance, I -”

  Lance ignored him and turned, opening the door and leading the way back to the front door. He didn’t have to turn to look to know that Finn had followed.

  As they retrieved their coats from the closet in silence and shrugged them on, a deep cool voice called out from the other side of the fireplace.

  “Lance. You’re leaving?”

  Lance froze, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. He had hoped to slip out unnoticed and not have to interact with his father again. But he had never been that lucky when it came to family matters.

  John Gallagher stepped up and out of the sunken living room before meeting them at the door.

  “Yes,” Lance said flatly. “We’re leaving now.”

  His father nodded, before shifting his gaze to Finn.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m John Gallagher.”

  Finn took his father’s outstretched hand. A protective, or maybe possessive, surge blew through Lance and he had to bite back to urge to slap his father’s hand away from Finn, had to fight the urge to bundle Finn out into the night, never to touch anyone else again.

  “I’m Finn. I’m on the swim team with Lance.”

  John frowned, and Lance rolled his eyes, knowing what he was about to say.

  “Swim team?” He narrowed his eyes behind the sleek metal frames of his glasses. “You’re still wasting your time with that nonsense?”

  Lance met his father’s gaze head on, but did not reply. He had learned long ago not to bother arguing. For years now he had silently and stoically carved out his own life, not bothering to try to make his father understand.

  It was Finn who broke the silence, and Lance stared down at his small, fierce face in surprise.

  “Nonsense? I’m sorry, sir, no disrespect, but you’re wrong. Lance is amazing. He’s the best one on the team.” Finn’s voice grew stronger with each word. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone besides himself disagree with his father. It was unbelievably refreshing, as was the shocked silence coming from John. He truly didn’t appear to know how to respond. Lance almost started to laugh. Almost.

  A pair of headlights flashed through the drifting snow outside, illuminating the thick, heavy flakes as they fell and swirled.

  “Our taxi’s here,” Lance said to Finn, ignoring his father. And without another word they made their way out into the vast, white night.

  They practically fell into the taxi, bodies blown hard by the snow and the wind. Lance quickly gave the address of their hotel to the driver as Finn buckled himself in.

  “Seriously, what the fuck!” The younger boy exploded. Lance looked at him with mild surprise, wondering what the outburst was about.

  “Who says something like that about something their kid loves, and something they’re so good at?! That’s crazy, man. I hope what I said was ok, I just couldn’t believe that!”

  Ah, so that was what had wound Finn up so tightly. Lance tended to forget that other people hadn’t grown up around his father and weren’t used to his sneering and contempt.

  “I take back what I said,” Finn said, looking adorably annoyed, face flushed, eyes bright, fidgeting with irritated energy.

  “I’m sorry. You’re not like that guy. At all.”

  The taxi pulled out of the snow-covered driveway and began the slow drive back to their hotel. Lance felt the tension drain out of him the further away from his father’s they house got. His gaze settled on Finn who was staring out the window, brows furrowed. Lance paused a moment, then replied.

  “It’s ok. You’re not the first one to have said we’re alike.” Then, with a deep breath, Lance said the words he had never said to anyone else before, not even to himself.

  “I do wonder what things may have been like, what I may have been like, if my mother were still alive. What kind of influence she could had had on me and on my life.”

  Finn turned towards him, large blue eyes serious in the darkened cab. It was terrifying to talk about this, to feel like he was cracking open his rib
s and displaying the deepest, most secret parts of himself, but somehow Finn made him feel safe, made him feel like he could.

  “She’s why I’m becoming a civil engineer. Not my father.”

  Finn continued looking at him, waiting for him to continue. Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to, but Finn’s soft words of “Go on,” encouraged him to continue.

  “My father built our house, that house, for my mother. I was young, but I still remember her expression when she walked in for the very first time, the pure joy she experienced. My mother was the only thing my father truly cared about, and he really made the house a testament to his love for her. It was perfect. And she was so, so happy. In that moment I understood the beauty that existed in buildings, the love, the personality. And I saw how happy that could make someone. But I was more interested in solving problems, in the mathematics of creating things, rather than the design that the architects are responsible for, so that’s why I decided to become a civil engineer.”

  Finn nodded thoughtfully.

  “I understand. It must have been tough, growing up with him and not your mom.”

  Lance clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. He wasn’t used to this, to expressing himself, and being comforted. The feeling of being exposed and vulnerable was painful in a thrilling way. Lance felt like he was teetering at the edge of a cliff, with nothing but Finn’s hand keeping him from falling. And he never wanted to let go of that hand, never wanted to lose sight of those blue eyes.

  “Yeah. He’s... difficult. And it’s not just that he tried to control my life. He can just be a real piece of shit sometimes. He’s not religious, but he’s really socially conservative. Like I have no idea what he’d do if he found out I...”