Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
And then we can focus on ruining Trent’s position on the board. But Jake will be right in reach of the Koning fortune.
The door whips open. Jake charges inside with a heavy breath. “There you are…” He trails off, skimming the length of me for any signs of distress.
How many times has this happened?
I’m not sure I’ll ever stop asking the question in my head. It pours gasoline through my bloodstream, igniting my fury toward his family. It cements my resolve that this is where I want to be. It’s where I’m supposed to be. Cutting Claudia at the knees so she can’t do this to anyone ever again.
“Phoebe?” he questions, his blue eyes hitting mine in a tsunami of worry.
“I’m in one piece.”
“What did she do?”
My gaze flits past his shoulder to the butler.
Jake follows it. “Thank you for letting me know she’s here, Niall.”
“Always my pleasure, Mr. Waterford.” Niall dips out of the parlor, but not before giving me a tip of the head like take care of yourself, miss.
Jake studies me. “I thought you were wearing a pink dress.”
“Your mother liked this one better,” I tell him without much explanation.
“Is it bothering you?” He’s concerned like maybe it’s made of blades.
“It’s fine,” I say gently.
He opens his mouth to reply, but a valet steps into the parlor. “Dinner is ready.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Rocky
The Badger Game (Continued)
We’re seated for dinner without Phoebe and Jake—and not knowing where they are is a static hum in my ears. There’s a distracting, unstoppable itch to go find them. But I am Trent’s friend first, and so I can’t leave. Can’t move. Can’t do much more than smile into my next sip of whiskey that Trent offered me earlier.
“You must try our bourbon we have in the cellar while you’re here.” Claudia touches my wrist across the table. “It’s divine.”
“I’d love that, Claudia.” I smile wider.
She looks satisfied with herself and with me. Together, we flank the head of the table. She’s seated me where Jordan should be.
Her second-born son is relegated to the middle beside his wife, Nadia. Practically shunned to the “friend” section of the table since Collin Falcone and Oliver sit across from them.
“I don’t know about you, but I am looking forward to our Phoebe’s grand entrance.” Trent raises his whiskey to his lips, grinning. He’s to my right. At the head of the fucking table.
While their father “sends his love” from a Switzerland trip, Claudia has let her firstborn miscreant rule the household. She should be in his seat, but sure, let your prick of a son dictate how this evening unfolds.
“She’s a work in progress,” Claudia says, more stiffly. “But we’re getting somewhere.”
Getting somewhere—that sounds like Claudia’s pleased with her.
Phoebe. If she submitted to Claudia’s whims, it means she must have pushed her hard enough to get the kind of blackmail we need. I hate not knowing what happened.
I’ll find out soon.
Not soon enough. Because my imagination is running rampant with dark, disturbing scenarios. Boiling my blood. I want to hold her.
I want to be with her.
I don’t want to be anywhere she’s not.
Claudia takes a long sip of wine before continuing. “I wondered if she was ever involved in…well, things that aren’t quite dinner talk.”
“Ohhh, come on, Mom,” Trent goads. “We’re all adults here.”
“She’s just a little too…free.”
“Oh.” Trent’s brows spike at me. “Oh.” He cocks his head. “I think she’s implying that our Phoebe might’ve dabbled in escorting?”
The way he says our Phoebe has me containing so much raw fury. It’s contorting inside me like an animal on fire. Searing and seething. I let it feed on me.
Instead of pummeling him, I make a show of gently rolling my eyes. “I’d know if she were a sex worker. I was married to her.”
Oliver acts oblivious as they attempt to degrade his sister in front of him. He can’t stick up for Phoebe without appearing defensive. It will get him axed from the friend group. All Koning privileges revoked.
He just has to take it.
Yet, he will pretend it’s nothing. Water off a duck’s back. But he’s not infallible. He loves his sister too damn much, and I see through his carefree veneer often. When no one’s looking.
Even now, Oliver has a deadened unblinking stare for a flicker of a second. It’s expertly concealed disgust.
Claudia touches her earrings. “Trent, dear, we don’t need to talk of escorting at the table.” She looks to me. “I’m sorry, he can be so crass.”
“But she loves me.” Trent bats his lashes at me. I have them vying for my attention, and I’d be more amused if I didn’t despise them both.
“Hush.” Claudia tips a smile to him.
Jordan scoots forward. “I—”
“So, Grey,” Claudia cuts off her other son, focused solely on me. “How is your portfolio these days?”
The door bursts open. “Oh my God, the tablescape is stunning.” Phoebe blows into the formal dining room like a force of nature. Uncontrollable, disastrous beauty.