Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I glance over my shoulder at where they’re all still standing, my eyes widening when I see Ford.
He’s a beautiful savage.
But his mother is fucking terrifying.
He seems to understand my silent plea because he pushes past Hawke and stalks toward us. But the moment he’s standing in front of me, I forget how to speak.
CHAPTER 32
Ford
Panic fills Billie’s eyes as her gaze meets mine, and I just know that somehow, my mother worked out exactly what she is to me without either of us having to say a single word. That’s one of the reasons I avoid being around Billie in public because people like my mother are clued in to everything.
“Come to explain, son?” she asks when I step up next to Billie. The bartender stops across the shiny counter from us, and Mother demands a glass of water, then turns back to me and Billie with an expectant expression. I feel like a teenager again when she would pin Hawke and me with her scrutinizing gaze and reprimand us for doing something she didn’t approve of. “You didn’t have to rescue her, you know. I don’t bite… hard.” Her attempt at teasing falls flat. We’re similar in that regard, both having a very dry sense of humor.
“There is nothing to explain,” I say adamantly.
“Oh, really?” She arches a perfectly waxed eyebrow. “Nothing? Do we lie to each other now? Is that our new thing?” Her Russian accent is getting thicker, giving away her rising anger. Anya Ivanov is a woman who acts on her anger quickly. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. And trying to reason with her is often futile.
“I’m not lying. There is nothing going on and nothing to discuss. Especially at Rya Monti’s birthday party,” I warn her. I know she doesn’t give a shit where we are and who is around us; it’s one of the reasons I respect her. She doesn’t give a flying shit what anyone else thinks. But I counter her glare, a tendril of warning in my gaze.
She takes the water from the bar and stares at Billie.
“He must really like you if he’s willing to lie to his mother.” She turns and starts back toward my father. “We’ll discuss this later,” she shoots over her shoulder to me.
I eye her warily, waiting until she’s out of earshot. She might be my mother, but she’s unpredictable. And it’s not my safety I fear for but Billie’s. Because Anya is protective of me and my brother, and if she suspects anything and comes to her own conclusions, it might be a similar reaction to the one Billie fears her brother would have.
I guess both of our families are fucked up in that regard.
I notice Matthew curiously looking in our direction and feel rather smug that I’m standing here with her instead of him. I’m also seriously fucking pissed off that he’s here in the first place. When I turn to face Billie, my breathing falters. The moment she walked into the room in that dress, I was thinking of all the ways I could rip it off her.
And then I saw his hand wrapped around hers, and I was thinking about all the ways I could detach that hand from his body so he could never touch her again.
“That was awkward. I don’t ever want to do that again.” Billie heaves out a deep breath as she turns to the bar and waves the bartender down to order another drink. I try not to smirk at how entertaining she is. I don’t drink alcohol, but I imagine any sane person would be begging for a drink after being cornered by my mother.
I casually shrug. “Could have been worse. She could have found us fucking,” I whisper so only she can hear. Goosebumps appear all over her skin, and it fills me with satisfaction that she still reacts to me in the same way that I do her.
“Stop that,” she chides, fixing her gaze over my shoulder. I move so she has no choice but to look at me. “Ford,” she growls.
“Yes, Chaos?”
“Stop it.”
“I have to check the tattoo. Meet me in the closet?”
“You’re insufferable.” She shakes her head. “The moment I start thinking you have a decent bone in your body, you go and ruin it.”
I don’t know why I gravitated to her the moment I saw her playing the piano, but it was something I’d always wanted to do. I used to watch her practice, mesmerized by how at ease she was when she played. Before I knew it, I was playing the piano every morning and every night, memorizing every stroke and key played.
My addiction for her started long before I wanted to admit it.
“It’s not a bone, but there’s a particular part of my body that you like,” I remind her with a wink.