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Marjory pulled the heavy front door open.

New sister?Ah, that was right. My father’s new wife came complete with her gold-digger credentials and two kids. Two girls. Wonderful. We were clearly on our way to that happy family my father had been daydreaming about… or maybe he was just hoping for the good press.

You never knew with John Sinclair. A man his age with two adult sons didn’t look nearly as good in a magazine as a man happily married with four kids—two girls, two boys.

Life was just another PR opportunity to my father. Another chance to grow the business. His one true love.

Then Marjory was bringing her daughter into the room, and every other thought in my head fled.

It was her. The girl from the library. The girl from the pool. The one who’d fucking kissed me when I’d been trying to resuscitate her, as the rest of the HHU degenerates stood by and watched someone drown.

After pushing me off last night, she’d run away without so much as a thanks, and I hadn’t seen her again. Now, she didn’t even take her hood off as she took in her surroundings. She was in the same clothes as yesterday, now dried out and wrinkled. Where had she slept?

“Selena, meet Brody, and Callahan.” Marjory’s smile was wide to the point of pain.

“Cal,” I snapped. “He likes to be called Cal.”

Marjory’s smile slipped at my tone.

“Brody,” my father warned in an annoyed voice.

Slowly, the girl stopped gazing around the room and turned to me, taking her sweet time. I waited for the recognition to hit her. And waited.

After a good, long while, she raised one eyebrow. That was it. All the acknowledgment I was getting, apparently.

I swallowed my own anger and stuck my hand out to the girl. It was only good manners, after all, and my father was watching.

She stared at it like it was a venomous snake about to bite her. She made no move to take it. Awkwardness crowded the air. Jesus. This girl seemed to have as much social grace as my brother. She didn’t shy away from looking me in the eye, however, and there was something pretty fucking irritating in her eyes. She looked at me like she’d already judged me and found me lacking. Like I was already a disappointment to her. It was audacious as hell, and it pissed me off immediately.

“I’m Brody,” I told her, just as she attempted to dismiss me and turn away. “And you’re Selena,” I prompted, wondering when the hell this rude brat was going to take the hint and play along. We were in the social niceties stage of our resentful relationship, and she was being insufferable. I hadn’t been wrong in my assessment of her yesterday. She really was a little heathen with no idea of basic common etiquette.

But that was her life before she’d become a Sinclair. Now, everything would change. She’d have to adapt. From now on, she’d acknowledge me. I’d make sure of it.

She tilted her head to the side, considering me. My hand was still extended toward her.

“Yes, I know my own name, thanks.” Her voice was deep, smoky almost.

I had no fucking clue what to say to that. How did you interact with someone who felt no obligation to be polite in the slightest?

Marjory hovered between us, appearing awkward, and then burst out, “I’m so happy we’re all going to be here, living in Hade Harbor. This town is going to be so good for you boys. It’s a wonderful place to grow up.”

Her daughter soundly ignored her. She was an absolute heathen.

“I’d say we’re pretty much done with growing up, but it’s nice enough,” I said when no one spoke.

My father shot me a side-eye.

“Oh, you’re still in college! That’s not grown up, though kids always like to think they’re older than they are. Isn’t that right, John?” She looked at my father.

He watched the news for a few seconds longer and then turned to her.

“On the contrary, Brody and Cal have been adults as long as I can remember. Brody is going to take over Sinclair Industries. He never had much interest in being a kid, with that kind of future waiting for him.”

Never had much interest in being a kid.Those words sat jarringly in my chest for some reason.

Selena snorted softly, drawing my attention back to her. Was she…laughingat my father?

I studied her. I’d never met someone who would laugh at John Sinclair before. It made her a particularly unusual specimen.