Victor: Her Ruthless Crush Theodora Taylor (fantasy books to read TXT) 📖

“We’ll pay for your art crap,” Dad answered quickly. “You focus on your studies.”

I went quiet. Even mom, whose cardinal rule was that I had to pay for all my silly art stuff with my own money, didn’t say anything.

Dad had that tone in his voice, the one you didn't argue with unless you wanted an even worse punishment.

And that was what his decree felt like. A punishment.

Who was Victor Zhang?

And why was my dad suddenly so eager for me to stay away from him?

The note was ticking even louder when I returned to my room after dinner.

But I pulled it out of my blazer pocket anyway, curiosity overpowering my fear. The paper from Victor's notepad might have been of a higher quality than I thought. The star felt heavier than I expected in my hand. Or maybe that was the secret.

Be careful with that.

Dad’s vague warning rang in my ears as I looked down at the perfectly folded note. And no, maybe I wasn’t ready. But reading the Chinese boy’s secret might be the only way to find out why my dad was suddenly super anti-Victor…

I felt like I was sitting across from Laurence Fishburne in The Matrix. Red pill or blue pill? One would allow your life to go on as it had before. The other would change it irrevocably.

I thought of another one of my classes then. English.

First term, my teacher had used The Matrix as an example of a modern allusion. Its blue pill or red pill scene was a call back to a much older story, she’d told us. The devil offering Eve the apple. Do you want this knowledge, young lady, or don't you?

I did not get the best grade in that class. But suddenly I understood everything.

This piece of paper was new and ancient all at once.

A choice. Victor had given me a choice.

And now, like Eve and Neo, I had to decide how much I liked my life as I knew it. I had to decide if I wanted to stay innocent.

I hesitated.

I could…

I could tear it up.

I could stuff the pieces in my mouth. Swallow them down, poop them out tomorrow and never, ever have to know what the note said.

But come on, who was I kidding? A hot guy who came to my brother’s rescue gave me a note with a secret inside when I asked him about his sudden hero turn. There was no such thing as a seventeen-year-old girl who would choose the not opening it option.

Without any further waffling, I unfolded the note.

I read it. Then I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

The secret…

It wasn’t what I’d expected. I had to go over the words, again and again, just to make sure I’d read them right.

But no, the second and third times, they read exactly as they had the first.

Dawn, I like you. This is the secret I didn't know how to tell you.

12

VICTOR

Three hours after giving Dawn his secret, Victor was still cursing himself.

He had defied his father’s decision. Raymond had wanted him to remain in Hong Kong and begin his training to take his place. But he’d asked Han to stand in for him and returned to Tokyo instead. Victor had enrolled in a school for the first time in his entire life. He’d threatened the grandson of the Nakamura-gumi oyabun.

And now…nothing. It was well into the evening, and he hadn’t heard from her.

Victor could only blame himself. When Dawn had asked him point-blank why he had done all of this, had he told her the truth face-to-face? No! He'd given her a note.

A note!

Dawn, I like you. This is the secret I do not know how to tell you.

Those words—those stupid, childish words had been swarming around his head since she got out of his car. He thought he would only be playing the part of a mere schoolboy when he enrolled at Tokyo Progressive. Ha! That note proved otherwise.

“Come on, man. We fighting or standing around all day?”

Phantom’s voice pulled Victor out of his miserable contemplation. They were supposed to be engaged in a spontaneous late-night sparring session.

Hand-to-hand, not with sticks or practice weapons as Han preferred. His chosen brother needed extraneous tools to keep up in a fight against Victor, given their different weight classes. But Phantom had refused all of the practice instruments hanging on the gym wall.

How had his American cousin so charmingly put it? "Fuck that pussy shit. Only weapons I believe in are my guns and my fists."

Phantom was nothing like Han. In fact, it was sometimes difficult for Victor to believe that, unlike his chosen brother, Phantom was actually a blood relation.

Their fathers had grown up together in the same household. But Phantom was an ABC, American-born Chinese. So he and Victor had little in common.

Regardless, Victor liked and appreciated his plain-spoken family member. From the age of twelve, Phantom’s father had sent him to Hong Kong every summer, so he and Han considered him much like an older brother.

Phantom tended to rub the Hong Kong side of the Red Diamond the wrong way, though. His rough American-accented Cantonese and his general lack of respect for those higher up in their triad’s chain weren’t regarded favorably. But anyone looking at him could tell he was a valuable asset. He was even taller and larger than Victor. A born enforcer, the sight of him alone often intimidated enemies from attacking Phantom’s father at in-person meetings.

He was also loyal. It'd taken nothing more than a couple of text messages from Han for Phantom to drop everything he was doing in America. He’d shown up in Japan with a duffle bag and a grin to—as he’d put it, "keep you company."

For that reason, Victor ignored his disrespectful tone and simply raised his fists to fight.

But instead of raising his fists, Phantom said, “If you’re having second thoughts about beating up that Nakamura kid over a girl—good. You should be.”

Victor inwardly sighed.