NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 32
Okay, now I’m being an asshole for enjoying how she can’t stop squirming.
“No idea,” she emits honestly with a quick lift of her shoulders. “Two people who got put in a screwed-up situation, and it’s been going downhill ever since.”
I lift a brow. “Huh.” Closing the distance, I palm the underside of Amirah’s jaw and lift her head to me.
I don’t fucking think past what I’m doing. I lean in, claiming her lips how I want to and not just because she’s done something for me.
She has.
She showed me how fucking sorry she was, and, for some reason, it’s all I needed from her. I needed some decency in this said fucked up relationship and meeting between her and I.
I coax her mouth wider, slipping my tongue inside and meeting up with hers immediately. My body buzzes in pure, ramped lust, begging this time to be set free.
Amirah only fuels it, following my leading and allowing me a taste without restraints. A fantasy to play out minus her writhing in fear of me but because she’s not disgusted by who I am and what I’ve done.
My hand slides to the side of her face, keeping her still while I tongue fuck her mouth, once, twice, and withdraw myself before things go too far.
Amirah’s mouth is still open—not helping—as she gazes up at me with stars in her eyes. Me, I want to shove her against the nearest wall and plunge myself so deep in her that I can’t think straight for the rest of the night.
“Going uphill yet?” I ask, and she promptly nods. I smile. “Good, now you shouldn’t feel so bad.”
Dropping my hand, I’m about to get the hell out of here before I act on my ideas when she comes back with, “Now you have to eat pizza with me. I didn’t use tongue.”
Staring at my crystal wine glass, my mother talks like we’ve been through nothing as a family. That the last few weeks have been nothing but ordinary, busy, and tiresome.
They have been.
All thanks to her.
Laurent sits stiffly at my side as we celebrate dad’s new donor, but no one knows who it is beside him and I. My brother was beyond shocked that Mills would even consider giving his blood to Dad after everything he went through, and he was grateful.
Just as I am.
When I mindlessly kissed him, everything that transpired blurred to the point that it made me move. I didn’t begin to regret it until he couldn’t look me in the face anymore.
I didn’t mean to push him or make him uncomfortable, but I couldn’t hide from myself that I’m attracted to him. In some weird, I need help sorta way.
Then he kissed me back.
Mills stayed for pizza that night—he ordered enough—and asked me questions about school and why I decided to go into fashion. He didn’t flinch when I explained how my mother was somewhat of the inspiration with her work in Paris as a model. We talked about other small, meaningless things, but I realized he didn’t speak much about him by the end of the night.
And the jerk that I am, I didn’t really ask.
“How much longer is dinner, Ma?” Laurent asks impatiently, breaking the monotonous chatter between her and our sisters.
A heavy silence falls around the table, and I feel Odette and Solange’s shitty gazes directed this way. I haven’t said one word to them. I didn’t visit Odette in her hospital room after hearing what she had done to my brother in the waiting room. My love for her, the small amount I had that was weakly alive, is gone. So whatever she decides to do with her life lesson that Mills dished out to her is up to her.
God only knows she needed it.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?” Mom counters with a quirked brow, taking a sip of her red wine. She knows he doesn’t want to be here. The tension is so thick it’s almost suffocating. “Good dinners take time, Laurent.”
“Nothing else to do,” he replies, then steers his attention to our oldest sibling. “I’m just suffering an ear bleed by all the bullshit spewing from Odette’s mouth.”
Our eldest sister’s eyes slit, but she keeps a smile painted along her red lips. “If you’d like to speak about something else, open your mouth.”
I look over at Dad, attempting to keep a fight from breaking out on a night that is supposed to be about him. “How are you feeling, Dad?”
He doesn’t look at me, not right away. A confused expression casts along his features as he looks at Laurent. “Eh, good, sweetheart. Much better.”
“When is your next transfusion? Are they doing them weekly or as you need them? Since you’re traveling so much, will they be sending some of the donor’s blood to maybe a local physician’s office so, in case you need it, it’ll be readily available for you? When is your next—“
“Enough,” Mom cuts in sharply, causing me to steer my focus back to her. Another person I haven’t said one word to when stepping into this house tonight. “Your father doesn’t want to talk about his health all the time, ma chéri.”
“Were you planning on babysitting him too?” Odette challenges, hitting me with an indication that she believes I’m the one that gave the green light on what happened to her. Solange has to of told her by now that Mills is in contact with me. And that jealousy that Mills mentioned seems to fit pretty well within my sister’s realm of personality.
“Well,” I start, keeping ahold of her bitter gaze. “We both know you’re not going to lift a finger to do anything but throw some more makeup to hide the wrinkles right at the corner of your eyes or make someone else’s s life a living hell.”
“Amirah,” my mother snaps at me at the exact moment Dad says, “That’s enough, girls.”
“Maybe Odette can go find someone with the same skin color as hers so she can go kidnap them and skin them alive,” my brother adds in, fully aware he’s not helping but doing it anyway.
“Laurent,” Dad warns. “Enough.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Solange has the nerve to say, downing her Chardonnay in one gulp and reaching for the bottle.
“You pick the subject,” I offer mildly. “We wouldn’t want to speak about the two men you sent to rape me.”
“What?!” Dad exclaims as Solange casts an unholy glower my way. “Amirah, what—“
“That’s right,” Solange replies cooly. “Make sure you run to tell daddy all the horrible things your sisters do. Maybe he’ll cut down our allowance.”
“Okay—“ I shrug. “—how about when Odette raped Laurent and took his virginity.” The table rattles after a loud bang sounds from Dad’s side of the table.
I pushed too much and went over and beyond dinner conversation, but while we’re all together for once, why the hell not?
“Amirah,” Laurent mutters at my side, and I quickly retract that doing this was a bad idea. I just threw out something he may not have wanted Dad to know about.
Hesitantly, I glance over at him. He doesn’t appear mad but not happy with me either. I reach over, grabbing his hand under the table, and I squeeze—hard.
“I’m sorry,” I utter. “But we’re broken. This whole family is a mess.”
“I want explanations,” Dad commands, his voice somber and upset. “Juliette, start speaking.”
“I knew nothing of this,” she quips, and whether she did or not, it doesn’t matter. Odette and Solange have always known what they were doing and didn’t care who they would hurt.
“Bullhshit,” Dad spits out, snapping my neck to him because he doesn’t swear like that, only during football season and golf tournaments. I think one time, he called one of my teachers a half-witted imbecile, but that was as colorful as he got. “You know these girls like the back of your hands. They’re your spawns.” He spits the word out, his face turning a cherry-red. “You got them to get in with you over that kidnapping deal.”
“Lower your voice, John,” Mom scolds cooly. “I just told you I didn’t know about it.”
“I will not tolerate this type of nonsense and disgust within my family. Laurent, I want you in my office now.” My brother squeezes my hand once before our father says, “No, don’t. Odette, get your spoiled rotten ass up and in there. You and I have a lot to talk about when it comes to being the eldest in this family and what that entails.”
He doesn’t rise from his chair, waiting for Odette to follow his instructions, which she doesn’t either. Instead, she looks over at Mom and waits for her command.
“Odette,” Dad leers. “I told you to go do something. And I’m your father. She’s not.”
Mom gives her a slight nod anyway, and my eldest sister rises, smoothing down her deep purple dress and pivoting to walk in the direction of Dad’s study. She doesn’t acknowledge us, either cornered and not knowing how she will get out of this one or simply tired.
I’m not going with the latter for once.
When she’s out, Dad rises and takes his brandy with him that he shouldn’t have in the first place. “Solange, don’t worry, darling, you’re next.”
His threat sends a small wave of chills up my spine as he storms from the room. No one makes a move or sound until we hear a door slam from the far side of the house. Then I’m rewarded with Mom’s dark browns in the form of a death stare.
“You just had to bring up bad things at the dinner table, didn’t you, Amirah?”
“Sorry, Mom, were Laurent and I just supposed to ignore them?”
“You bring them to me,” she carps out.
“And what would you’ve done about it but nothing,” I retort before downing the rest of my martini. “You lied to me about freeing Mills. I’ll never trust you again.” Rising from my chair, I lean over Laurent’s ear. “I’m going outside for some air.”
“I’m going to go call a buddy to go have a drink.” He follows my lead as we walk out of the dining room. Mom yelling at us to sit back down and listen, but we ignore her.
She’s not our mother anymore.
I think we’ve just clarified that she’s losing the title with each passing sin she allows from Odette and Solange.
Laurent kisses the top of my head at the foyer by the front door and makes his way upstairs to his room. I, on the other hand, walk outside and welcome the fresh air. With my cell in the pocket of my sweater jacket, I pull it out and don’t even hesitate to call Mills.
He’s the only one that’ll understand.
And he answers on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey, it’s me,” he repeats. “What’s going on?”
I furrow my brows. “You know who this is, right?”
“Do you have reddish-brown hair, green eyes, and likes to kiss people before thanking them?”
My cheeks burn against the cool night air, and I sigh. “Yeah. I guess that’s me.” He chuckles slightly and doesn’t say another word about it or one in general for that matter. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” he says slowly. “But I’m assuming you’re having one.”
I tsk. “Lucky guess.”
“Did your mom keep dinner knives at the table? I know for a fact they make good weapons.”
Holy shit, I forgot he had stabbed Solange with one at the dinner table.
“She did, and I’m embarrassed to say, I didn’t even think of that.”
“So, you don’t have killer blood in your veins, Rus, there’s plenty more of you that’s worth bragging about.” My lips lift in a smile, and I’d love to ask him what he’d consider those to be, but apparently, I’m not feeling that bold anymore. “What’s wrong, Rus?”
“Oh, just…me and my big mouth.”
“It’s not that big,” he counters. “I’d know.”
“Wow.” My hand flies up to my forehead, and I groan. “You’re a freaking jerk, and please stop mentioning that.”
“Why?”
“Because, I…I’ve assaulted you enough, don’t you think?”
“Depends on your definition.”
I bite down on my lower lip. Maybe calling him was a terrible idea. I don’t need to plague him with mentions of my sisters or mother. He’s done more than enough for me with just being the blood donor for my father.
“Are you in the middle of a war right now or overthinking something?” he presses off an exhale of something, and I can just see him with a blunt between his fingers. Him relaxing in a chair outside or something and just hanging out.
“I spilled some family secrets that my dad didn’t know and, well—“ I release a heavy sigh. ”—he’ll probably need another transfusion tomorrow with all the blood that shot up to his head. I think he’ll be taking mind blown to a whole other level with the things I’ve spat out tonight.”
“You tell him about the two guys?”
“Yeah. And how Odette took my brother’s v-card.”
Silence fills the other line before Mills says, “You’re fucking me right now.”
“Mhm, I don’t think so. We’re not even in the same room.” Mills scoffs, but I swear I hear him grumble under his breath. That’s what he gets about the size of my mouth comment. “But I’m unfortunately serious. I found out when I was in the hospital after…”
“Ah,” he coos. “Right. A shame that.”
“I ruined dinner.”
“Eh, it was already ruined the moment your wicked sisters walked in the room.”
I turn to look back at the house. “I don’t need to throw a heart attack on my dad next. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He needed to know.”
“Did he? I think I was being petty and—“
“Rus,” he says softly, his voice caressing my skin and creating the casual slump of my shoulders. “Your sisters are evil, period. Anything that comes to them, they’ll deserve.”
By his hand.
He claims he forgives me but too bad I couldn’t make him forget. It’d be so much nicer to be attracted to him without feeling so damn guilty. However, that’s a personal problem, isn’t it?
"Thanks for listening to me," I tell him truthfully. "I'll let you go and—"
"Now, you got me hooked,” he claims. “I’m just learning that you sabotaged a family dinner and apparently gave zero fucks about it."
"I care," I bristle.
"But here you are talking to me. Cold-blooded." I huff, and I can hear the smirk in his tone when he says, "And cranky."
"I'm a horrible person."
"You're not."
"I really don't want to go back in there." I can feel the fatiguing conversation my mother will want to have with me the moment I walk back in. She’s going to accuse me of being disloyal, unappreciative, and a spoiled brat towards my sisters.
The thing is, I’m the least spoon-fed of all of them besides Laurent. We didn’t want to stay cradled just to be smothered by Mom’s influence.
"Then go home, Rus,” Mills asserts. “You don’t need to be there.”
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because my dad is in there talking to Odette and—"
"Like that's going to do anything."
Truths.
It never has before. However, Odette’s never gotten caught.
"I should be out there when he's done.” I shove my free hand into the pocket of my sweater. “Make sure he's okay."
"Your brother there?"
"Yeah, but I think he's going out."
"Go with him."
I shake my head with a chuckle. "No one wants their kid sister out with them at a bar."
"Depends on the bar," he rebuffs.
My eyes narrow. "I’m not sure I want to know what that means."
"Nothing bad, Rus. You're not bad to look at and—"
"Thanks," I laugh, bringing my hand to my warm cheek. “Again, you're a dick."
"Go, have fun. Get out of that house. You're not eating dinner tonight. They're not going to listen to shit he says, but that he's their father. He's going to bitch at them for God knows how long, and it’s going to go through one ear and out the other. You don't need to be there for that. Check on him tomorrow and tell me I'm wrong."
"You're not.” I kick at a small pebble on our driveway. "Okay, I'll go."
"Have a good time, Rus."
Then he hangs up.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in Beverly Hills, Maryland because I wanted to be here. I mean, seriously, who the hell says they want to go to Beverly Hills unless they’re going to Cali?
No one.
Point in case, I’m here for stupider reasons. Ones that, by just even saying them out loud, sound borderline moronic and just plain ill-advised.
That being said, I’m here in case something happens to Amirah to where I’d be easily accessible to help her out.
In fact, I hated that she was going there but understood why. Her dad was celebrating the fact that, unbeknownst to him, I was his blood donor. That he had another chance at living an everyday life.
And frankly, I did it for his youngest daughter too.
So, when I tell her to go to the bar with her brother, it doesn’t take long to find her because Emmy GPSed it. I should’ve pressed the issue that she had a dress to finish and asked how far along she is because since pizza night two days ago, I’ve made myself scarce.
When, really, I’ve been on stand-by.
Bishop has been chomping at the bit to take Solange down, Marty is ready to kill the old French bitch, and Kyson—again, has been patiently waiting for me to give him something to do.
Blue, on the other hand, is my date to this bar. I don’t know if bitch #1 and #2 will show up and, if they do, I need someone to handle my reins before I start stabbing them to death with the edge of a broken beer bottle in front of a shit load of witnesses.
Inside, the music is loud as shit. I Feel It Coming by The Weeknd fills the crowded space. The accent of the place is black and wood, covering the length of the bar to my left. It’s almost the whole wall and packed with people sitting on comfortable flushed stools with backs to them. Gold lights outline the bottom of the countertop and match the lights hanging above. Ropes of pinks, blues, and purples LEDs hang aimlessly in the middle of the bar and over the large dance floor.
This place is trendy and clean, to which I can see why it would draw in the crowd it does.
