Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
The fact is, my stepsister has gone out of her way to avoid me ever since the night I went down on her. It’s been weeks of trying to catch her alone, trying to corner her at home, but she’s too fast. She’s even been helping Irene with last-minute wedding stuff. That’s how I know she’s going out of her way to stay as far from me as she can.
Most of the time, she’s even getting rides with Wren and Maya. When I reminded her the girls don’t owe her anything, she shrugged it off. I don’t know where this new attitude came from, why she thinks she can get away with being so defiant. Eventually, it’s going to catch up to her. She has to know that.
But it’s all right. I’ve been willing to bide my time, because in the end, I’m going to be the one left standing. I’m the one with the photos on my phone. She can pretend all she wants to be in control, to dictate when and where we spend time together, but all she’s doing is delaying the inevitable. Eventually, I’m going to hold them over her head again—and the longer I make her wait, the more she’ll wonder when I’ll decide to drop the hammer. No matter how she pretends otherwise, I know it’s under her skin.
“Where would you want to go?” I ask Jocelyn, turning my attention back to her, speaking just loudly enough for her and Elliana to hear.
“I don’t care,” she replies with a knowing grin. “My apartment isn’t far from here, actually. I would love to show you around.”
“I would love to see it,” I reply, deliberately letting my attention center on the cleavage that barely peeks out from the neckline of her dress. The thing is, I like being the pursuer. I think most guys do. It’s one thing for a girl to be interested and even eager, but it’s something different when she throws herself at a guy.
But she doesn’t know that—and neither does the girl sitting across from me. She really needs to learn how to hide her jealousy. Up until now, she’s been infuriatingly good at concealing her thoughts. What’s changed?
I look her way across the table, and her gaze darts back down to her plate, where she’s moving food around with her fork. “Don’t you like the salmon?” I ask, because I don’t feel like leaving well enough alone. Not with the opportunity to torture her right in front of me, like a shiny toy meant only for my amusement.
“I think it’s delicious,” Jocelyn announces, tossing golden hair over her shoulder before taking another bite.
Elliana shrugs, looking painfully uncomfortable in a light cotton dress and cardigan. It must be killing her, not being able to hide under one of her sweaters. That, plus Irene insisted she wear her contacts tonight so she wouldn’t ruin any pictures.
All right, that’s extremely shitty. It’s one thing for me to make fun of her, but her own mother? It’s not my problem, and I know it, but it doesn’t exactly endear the woman to me. What kind of mom says something like that to her only daughter?
It gets worse, as it turns out. Once our plates are cleared away and we’re waiting for dessert, Elliana excuses herself and heads for the restroom. It takes all of my self-control to stay where I am instead of following her, settling on watching her.
Until Irene gets up and follows her.
“Excuse me,” I offer to Jocelyn without looking her way, getting up, doing what I can to look casual as I trail behind Irene. We’re not the only ones taking the opportunity to stretch our legs between courses, so it doesn’t look strange.
Rather than go straight to the men’s room, I pause in front of the door to the ladies’ room, where a certain familiar voice echoes on the other side. Why would Irene bother keeping her voice down when there are so many people who might overhear? Anybody could walk in at any second, but she’s too determined to grind her daughter down to give a shit.
“You know, if you even tried to act like a normal person every once in a while, you could have somebody like that sitting with you too,” she hisses. “There are plenty of young men who Paul knows—the sons of his colleagues and associates and friends. You think I wouldn’t love to have the kind of daughter I would happily pair them up with? But no, you would rather be an embarrassment, sitting there like you’re afraid of your own shadow. Do you know how that looks for us?”
This bitch. She doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. I can imagine the way Elliana must be standing in there, head down, shoulders hunched, absorbing her mother’s hatred.