Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“You and I both know I do my best work late at night.” She notices the tension in my shoulders, and her eyes soften a little. “Ivanya. What are you doing with her?”
Straight to the jugular.
I lean against the rail to buy a second. Every word is analyzed by her. You don’t say a single fucking thing unless you want it to be known for exactly what it is.
The wood creaks under my weight. “What makes you think I’m doing anything?”
A laugh slips out of her. “Because I have eyes, Asher.” She steps closer, bringing the smell of bourbon with her. Probably raided my finest shit. “I don’t fault you for all that you’ve done, son. But you need to ask yourself if it is worth it.”
My eyes snap back to her.
She doesn’t back down. Hell no would my mother ever back down.
“You need to know when to stop, Asher, before everyone ends up with a bullet in their chest, and this time, I’m sure the shooter won’t miss.”
The accusation in her tone should bother me more than it does, but I’ve thought about it more times than I care to admit. The more she’s around, the more I know I’m right, but then he happens. I see it flicker over her eyes whenever I bait her.
I rub my jaw. “It’s not your concern, Mother. You know this.”
For a moment I see the woman who despised the public eye, even though she’d lived in it her entire life. The woman who would’ve raised us alone a hundred times over if it meant never breathing the same air as my father again.
“Not my concern?” She uncrosses her arms, one manicured finger tapping my chest. “I won’t sit back and watch you do to her what your father did to me, Ash.”
Bold conversation for the middle of the stairs, but to be fair, it’s the best vantage point in the house.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I stare down at her. She’s my mother, but she’s never known our world the way Atlas, Khloe, and I do. She’s been kept on the outside. Deliberately.
She snorts. “I know a lot more than you realize.”
Heat rises up my throat. “You need to watch what you’re saying.”
She holds my gaze before giving one slow nod. “The fact remains. From where I’m standing, you, my son, may very well have it all wrong.” Her hand finds my arm. “Be careful. For once.”
Her robe trails behind her as she brushes past me.
I can’t move.
Her words replay in my head with the same reel of memories that surface any time I second-guess myself.
Fuck.
Be careful. How does she expect me to react to that? You don’t kill a monster by petting it to sleep.
I shake it off, or try to, pushing off the rail and heading down the hall toward my room. The door creaks open, and I climb the stairs up to the second level, each step a reminder that Ivy is in a replicated room right beside me, only without the loft.
My feet stop once I hit the top.
Sprawled naked across my bed, Camille traces lazy patterns over my black sheets. All her curves on display in the light of the gilded lamp at her side.
Most people wouldn’t kick her out of bed on a bad day.
I ain’t most people. “Get out.”
It has nothing to do with physical appearances either. Even if Ivy wasn’t more attractive than Camille, she carries something that others don’t. Something you can’t replicate. I mean fuck, she fucking shot me. That’s probably it. Kills men. But doesn’t just kill them, tricks them. Makes it hurt far more than a point five-oh bullet.
Camille’s laugh cuts through my thoughts. “Missed you too. Come on, Asher. It’s been months, a whole year.”
I ignore her. She’s been hovering since I got back. Clinging, demanding space in my bed like it’s her right. And maybe it once was. Or maybe I’m a fucking liar.
She sits up slowly, sheets pooling around her waist, her face twisting. “What’s with you? We’re here now, Ash. Hello.” She waves her hands around. “You captured the stray, now can we please relax? Once we land back in Coeur-de-Pierre, I’m going to have my fucking mother breathing down my back for the next task she’s going to set me on.”
I pull my shirt off over my head, tossing it aside. “You need to shut the fuck up, Camille.”
And she does. The girl has a big-ass mouth.
“What?” She gapes at me.
I hold her stare. “Did I stutter? Why the fuck are you still here?”
Her silence stretches before she stands, the sheets falling away. She pads across the rug, sliding her hands around my waist.
“Where should I sleep, then?” She presses her mouth between my shoulder blades. “Atlas’s room?” Fingers tighten on my hip. “Ivy’s?” A pause. “Maybe I can see if she can still breathe with a pillow shoved over her face.”