Trophy Daughter

Chapter 4- Don't Even Know

Judging by my past luck with men- it was the tracksuits. 

"Okay you two, I get it, you want to smash. But Circe, I hear you have a new tutor" 

My head snapped to her and I nodded grimly,  sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. Carlisle has something Dumas wants, and Dumas has to tutor me in order to get it" I shook my head, sighing loudly. 

"Who's Carlisle?" 

I frowned. "My adoptive father. Carlisle Lux and Caroline Lux are my adopted parents" 

A low whistle then her snapping her painted fingers in front of me. "Well that's a whopper of a truth. Your parents are real pieces of work" 

I scoffed. "Adoptive- and trust me, I know that better than most" 

She cocked her head to the side, curls falling over her porcelain face. Belinda was super pretty, with cherubim looks and big blue eyes- the innocent type that had a lot of ideals. 

"Why didn't you say no?" 

There was more to the question than she made out to be, an edge to her words filled with fresh hurt. Vincent's fists clenched on the table, a shadow falling over his face. Looks like Barnabas had messed with the wrong siblings. 

"Okay this sounds really shallow- but Carlisle was going to sell my cars. And I love my cars more than I love people. Or KFC- and that's a lot of love right there" 

She stared at me for a moment, no doubt wondering if I was telling the truth. Then she laughed, a bright, tinkling sound that almost made me laugh too. 

"Only you Circe. Only you. And did you say cars?  as in plural?" 

"Yep. I only have two, a Jeep and a Mercedes Benz" 

Belinda nodded in understanding. "Oh that's right, your parents are super loaded" 

"Adoptive parents" I quickly corrected, drawing a long look from her. She looked down at my empty space and nudged her brother. "Go and get Circe something to eat before I cut your eyes out with this plastic knife" 

I sat back and watched him go, eyes on his tight ass the whole time. 

"You need to stop eye-fucking my brother" 

I shrugged, not at all ashamed, someone that good looking with a body he worked for deserved my mental shagging. "You brought him. And I'll introduce you to my identical twin cousins in return" 

Silence. 

"They're like two Douglas Booths" 

Silence. 

"Deal." 

_______

I was sitting in Maths wondering if I should text Vincent, AKA, the man of my wet dreams. A man always liked a confident woman- someone who knew what she wanted. And the want seemed very mutual. 

But I wouldn't get out after school until around 5 and then had to go straight to uni to see Professor Malin for my next test. Ugh, the privileged life of a suburban teenager. 

Belinda sat next to me- we actually had nearly all the same classes, scrolling through her phone and haphazardly writing notes while keeping her gaze stubbornly forward. Dumas flanked her other side with an expression so stormy a sailor wouldn't have wanted to navigate it. I guess that's what happens when you sit next to an old fuck and your new stupid tutoree. 

"Miss Lux, what is so important on your phone that you can stare at it through my lesson? 

This bitch. Again, she needed to be roasted to be shown a lesson. 

"I'm just wondering whether or not I'll get laid tonight." I sat up, placing my hand under my chin. Eyes excitedly pounced on both of us, ready for another hot dish of Mrs Dylan. Served extra well done. "Do you ever think about that Miss? Getting laid? Because no one with mom jeans up that high in their crotch ever gets laid" 

Maybe I had went too far. Or maybe I had hit it just enough- because she sent me out, relieving me from the mediocrity of her teaching. I swear, they let any old hag have a teaching degree these days. 

A text pinged on my phone. 

Hey, are you free tonight?

- Vincent. 

Ooh, just the person I was thinking about. 

I'm never free, and am sadly not available tonight. 

Seduction, thy name was Circe. Another text came through, almost immediately. 

How about tomorrow? Say, 5:30? I'll pick you up. 

And don't worry, I never thought you were free. Or easy. 

Belinda's brother was an absolute charmer. 

Sure thing chicken wing, I'll see you then. Pick me up from school, I'm in tutoring till then. 

Mama was going to get laid tomorrow night. 

Okay. I'll see you then. 
Later, cupcake. 

I usually thought men who used nicknames like cupcake, sugar, doll or even love were halfwits without a big vocabulary. 

But on this decadent morsel of the male attraction, it was down right panty dropping. 

Sure, I had had my fair share- probably more than a fair share- of casual flings, and it was all well and good until my lovers eventually caught feelings. They plucked them out of the air and wove them into cliche letters, songs and even paintings- sometimes they were cute, eventually it became a drag. 

So I ended up with older men- twenties and thirties, hadn't quite passed the forties threshold yet. Didn't really want to. And these men knew what they wanted- my nights, sometimes my days and a whole lot of pleasure. But men was a relative term- a disposition more than an age- it was just older men had this disposition much more than younger guys. It was simple really. 

It was a give and take relationship that worked out quite well until one of us saw it fit to go another way. 

If either of my adoptive parents found out their daughter was consorting with older men- whoooeeee, there would be a whole lotta hell to pay. 

But I didn't know my sperm donor- and maybe it was the devil. 

____