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)
I wanted to ignore him for the rest of the night, but that’s hard to pull off when he’s directly in my line of sight. Camille looks pretty. I’ll give her that much. Pale yellow silk, thin straps, the whole delicate little package. The evening wind cuts across the terrace, pushing the fabric against her nipples despite the heaters lined up behind us.
It’s cold. Too cold to be wearing what I am.
Daniel and Sinead settle near Khloe, Daniel straight-backed, Sinead slouched with one tattooed wrist hooked around a wineglass.
Silver clinks against porcelain, candles guttering in the wind while waves hit rocks somewhere below us in a slow rhythm. I feel off. Which irritates me more than the seating chart. I’ve been trained for rooms exactly like this since before I knew algebra. Smile if needed. Lie if needed. Do worse if needed.
Heat spreads up the side of my neck, settling heavy on my face. This particular brand of pain is Asher’s, and I know if I turn my attention to him right now, I’ll find him glaring right at me.
I reach for the water. Wine can wait. Wine makes people think you’re pressed, which I am not. Well… I am, but not enough to show it, at least not yet.
Khloe buries her hand in the breadbasket. “So!” her tone high with sarcasm. “if anyone starts a family war before appetizers, I call dibs on live-streaming it.”
Atlas lifts his glass. “You do have more followers than me but less than Asher, so I guess that makes sense…”
Camille’s laughter cuts through the sibling banter. “Charming.”
“Let’s attempt one meal without threats,” Elea tells the table, fixing her attention on Atlas and Khloe.
Aléia clears her throat. “Asher—” Cutting herself off, she glares at me.
What the fuck is her problem?
I follow the direction of her stare, catching Asher already looking my way.
Ah, I see. She was following his line of sight.
Matching his stare, I refuse to back down as I swallow my drink.
Then his lashes fan over his cheeks when his focus drops from my mouth. He sure is taking his time eye-fucking me with his ex, both mothers, and his siblings right there.
Bold.
Ignoring the heady throb of my own pulse, I stab my fork into slice of meat. “The food is great, Elea. Did you make this?”
“I did!” Elea’s eyes widen along with her smile. “How are you feeling all the way down there?”
Elea’s got this way about her, like I’ve known her for years, and I couldn’t tell you why. Khloe must get it from her.
“Like a bride being served up for slaughter.”
Khloe chokes on her wine.
A waiter moves to my side, blocking my view and pours a glass of Pinot.
Now I don’t give a fuck if I look pressed.
Out of the corner of my eye, every few seconds Camille touches or grabs or caresses Asher, but I lock onto all that is fucking holy and focus on cutting my meat. Chewing slow, drinking fast…
Elea’s gaze flicks up at me as she slices into a buttered spud. “How’s your room? Is everything comfortable?”
I’m about three seconds away from screaming. From asking what the fuck is wrong with this family and why—why—do they all seem so…
Calm. Like hey, it’s cool that you tried to kill my son but didn’t, also how’s the room he’s keeping you hostage in?
I tip my glass in her direction. “Swell.”
My eyes wander before I can stop them, finding Asher with his face buried in Camille’s neck.
She giggles, melting into him.
My cheeks grow hot, darkening the edges of the room.
I’m going to kill her. And then I’m going to kill him for not killing her.
My phone buzzes against the table with Punk’s name lighting up the screen. No doubt bikini photos, margaritas, and fucking confetti. Yet here I am, back in this house at my own will.
I drink more.
“Here!” Khloe taps at my thigh. “Selfie. I know all the Ashvy fans wanna see it since this fucker hasn’t posted you again yet.”
I lean into Khloe as she snaps a range of shots and Aléia and Elea bicker down the other end of the table.
Khloe flips through the selfies, scrutinizing each one as I sit here with my wine and my rapidly deteriorating grip on civilization.
“Ivy, you look insane!” she shakes her head with a smile. I’d otherwise cringe at the compliment, but I’ll take what I can right now, especially since Camille is within earshot.
Atlas leans over the table. “Lemme see.”
She jerks the phone away. “Back up, predator.”
He glares. “I’m family.”
She shrugs, baiting him. “Which somehow makes it worse…”
I snort into my glass before I can stop myself, and Asher’s eyes land on me. Camille laughs at something he doesn’t say, sliding her hand up his forearm like she’s trying to win a contest only she’s participating in. It does the job, because now he’s turned back to her, their performance stealing my appetite.