NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 35
Maybe I rely on his help too much or that he’ll always have my best interest at heart, but I can’t spend the next hour having a catfight with my sisters about shit they’re wrong about.
“Hey.” Odette’s voice rings out behind me because she moved away and wants to make sure she gets one more verbal punch in before letting me go.
I pivot and make sure my spine is steeled against whatever it is she wants to spew. “What?”
“I’ve been to his house,” she tells me. “I’ve met his Mama. I can see if he has a sister or a brother.” Her full lips heave up in a smile. “I’d love it if he had a brother.”
“I will kill you,” I grit out through my clenched jaw. “Give this shit up, Ode. It’s over.”
“It’s over when I say it’s over.” She points to herself as if that’s going to sway me. She’s out of her fucking mind.
“You didn’t learn?” My brows knit in confusion with how Mills almost killed her, yet here she is back on her bullshit again. “He almost killed you. He left you to die in the middle of a dark alley. Do you really think it’s going to end well for you?”
Her frown is immediate. “He was upset,” she quips. “I get it. But out of all of us, I’m a better suit for him.”
“Oh my God, did Cyrus break up with you again?” Her nostrils flare, and I know I’ve hit onto something. “Good for him. He probably wouldn’t like the scars you more than likely have now all over your once-perfect body. Friendly reminders to leave him the fuck alone.”
My body is hurled into the front door. The back of my skull following behind it as it slams mercilessly against the hardwood. Odette’s nails are immediately at my throat, dug into my flesh as she tries to mark me for the occasion.
She’s not trying to choke me. She’d never be able to do that or probably know how to. She just wants to leave a petty little bitch mark.
My knee comes up but only hits her in the thigh. That’s when I grab onto her hands and try pulling them away.
“I will end you, cunt,” she bitterly mutters along the side of my face. “You suck at payback. You couldn’t even get us arrested. Solange almost got you raped, but you haven’t suffered any sort of my revenge yet.”
Her words barely leave her lips before she’s pried off me by Laurent and tossed away. My brother’s face is beat red from rage, and the uttered fuck that leaves his lips is directed at me.
I know I’m bleeding. I can feel the warmth trickling down my throat. His ripping Odette off me didn’t help matters even though he tried.
I’m at war with my sisters; it’s definitely apparent now if it wasn’t before.
They’ll try to destroy me and break me down. Laurent will be at my side, some focus of my sister’s rage because they know it’ll hurt me. And I’ve made it evident on more than one occasion to leave Mills out of it.
My commands will go unwarranted, though.
Odette and Solange want him for themselves. I just wish they’d kill each other instead of including me into the mix.
Or better yet, having Mills do it.
When he used me against them, it obviously stuck a little too deep because I’m public enemy number one and on their most wanted list.
Whether I want to be or not, I need to suit up and be ready because my near future is looking a little bleak thanks to being born in this family with a mother who doesn’t give a shit and a father who can’t control grown-ass women.
I either need to deal with it or grow a pair to give Mils the green light to do what he’s been wanting to do. I’m just terrified that the guilt will suffocate me in the end and I’ll never breathe again.
Throwing on an overly-sized Coach sweatshirt and a pair of black sweatpants, I’m ready to delve right back into work after a quick shower, and staring way too long at the claw marks Odette left behind.
They hurt, I don’t know how I’m going to hide them when I go to school tomorrow, but it’s the least of my worries right now. I’m at least two days’ work behind on my dress, and it’s going to be a miracle if I can pull it off looking wearable.
With my sisters’ threats in my mind and ignoring three of Mills’s calls, I shove back everything and ignore them.
This is my only shot.
I don’t want to win a job well-done or better luck next time. I’m obsessed with carting my gown to New York Fashion Week, and I won’t sleep tonight if that’s what it takes to get there.
My name out there for the most important people to see. Everything I’ve ever created and worked for relies on this. The confidence that I’m talented enough to make it in this cutthroat industry. That all this time, all of my passion into going into my career was worth it.
I need this.
And I want it bad.
With one of my Spotify playlists playing off my Bluetooth speaker and a handful of Vogue magazines scattered along the floor, it doesn’t take me long to get into a groove. My sole attention is on cutting, sewing, drawing, measuring, and threading. I ignore the rumble in my stomach, promising it that after a few more songs, I’ll order food and scarf it down.
When it begins to ache to almost unbearable heights, I’m hot, and my phone begins to die. Giving in to the inevitable, I stand and brush off scrapes of fabric and insert my threading needle into the gown's fabric, so I don’t step on or lose it.
Turning to grab my charger and head into the kitchen, I scream-gasp at Mills hovering over my door frame like a darkened monster ready to pounce. A menacing glare heavier than anything I’ve ever seen him put on before weighs so significantly on me that I don’t take my next inhale.
My body forgets how to.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snaps, his eyes a whirlwind of grays and blues as he peers down at me.
My first response is to tell him it’s none of his business with the way his attitude barks out at me, but I know well enough that it’s definitely not a good idea.
So instead, I settle with a safe, “Working.”
“While you were driving back from Maryland? Did you beam yourself from there to here?”
“No, I—“ Then his face transforms into an evil and murderous facade, halting the rest of my sentence as his expression twists in pure vehemence as his eyes bore down on me like a solid brick wall.
“What the fuck are those?” He jerks his head in the direction of me, and I know he’s talking about my maul marks.
And, fuck me, I immediately want to lie.
The bright red lines aren’t easy to miss. They scream jealous and spitefulness for all the plans and ideas that I’ve ruined for my sisters.
I might not be able to stand Odette and Solange with every inch of my entire being, but I’m not a total rat either.
I should be.
What the hell do I owe them?
“What’s what?” I ask innocently, striding to get around his body so I can get to my fridge. But Mills’s arm instantly shoots up, and his large hand palms the wood of the door frame, blocking my exit and hinting that until I give him the real answer, I’m not leaving this room.
“You wanna play stupid with me, Rus? I know for a fact that I didn’t put those marks on you since I saw you less than twenty-four hours ago.”
I look up at him, trying to keep my face as placid as ever. It’s the hardest thing to do when he’s so close, so angry, and so freaking here right now. “It’s nothing. I got too rough with a cat.”
Mills cocks his head to the side. “A cat, huh?”
“Thing’s a little shit.” I scoff and shake my head as if it really happened. “All I was doing was trying to play-wrestle with it.”
“What’s its name?”
“Whiskers.”
He moves his body, aligning it with mine and resting his other palm along the side of the door, boxing me into him and this room. “Who’s the guy?”
“You know a guy with nails?” He blinks at me, unamused, fazed, or bothering to answer that failed attempt of changing the subject.
Tough crowd.
“Two seconds.” He draws out the two words like he’s talking to an idiot. “And your ass is mine.”
I don’t know if he means literally or figuratively, but neither are what I want to find out.
Sorta, maybe.
However, he doesn’t give me those seconds and continues to speak anyway.
“Rus, I wanted to make sure you got home okay after having to go back into the den of vipers to check on your dad. I respected it. Hell, I even woke your ass up this morning to get out of my bed to get ready. So imagine my worry when I call, and you don’t answer with the bullshit playing out in my head.” He leans forward, the smell of weed and mint filling my nostrils. “And, Rus…I have a very vivid imagination. Even I get scared and get lost up in there sometimes.”
His eyes sketch out everything he’s feeling right, from the worrying to the disappointment in me when I didn’t give a shit to answer his calls.
Honestly, I just wanted to be alone in my own world for a little bit. I needed to drown in my dress so I could just forget all the pending problems surrounding me.
I feel safe in my cocoon of dress-making. It might be stupid, but there it is.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You’re forgiven when you tell me what happened.”
Ugh.
I debate quickly—tell him or don’t tell him.
Be responsible for what happens or lie.
Add another mark against Solange and Odette and expect the next conversation with Mills being; Hey, I killed your sisters. You’re welcome.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask. “A big one.”
“Depends. What is it?”
“Can we please just drop the whole I didn’t respond back to your texts on my way home and just start tonight over?”
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” he counters. “I give a fuck about the marks on your neck.”
“You’re not my boyfriend.”
“No. I’m not.” His fingers lightly grip onto my jawline, tilting my head to the side to get a full view of my neck of my sister’s inscriptions. Bending forward, my breathing stops as I feel his exhale brush too close to my ear. “But I helped you come, didn’t I? Your pussy was dripping for me. Dreaming about my cock, how I could make you scream. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” The tip of his nose brushes upward against the column of my neck when he whispers, “Tell me.”
I look up at my ceiling, caught between a door and a hard body that I wanted over mine last night.
He’s not wrong; he’s definitely right. I wanted him. I thought about him. I fucked him and have some weird as hell infatuation with who he is.
You’re just like them. Only less.
“Odette,” I deadpan.
Mills presses a tender kiss to one of my wounds, and I suck in a breath because it’s inflamed, and it hurts. But Mills’s soft lips feel even better despite all of that.
“Why?”
“Because she’s a bitch,” I spit out, feeling his hand grip my left hip and gently squeeze.
“And?”
“Because I told her to leave you alone.” That gets me awarded with another soft depress of his mouth to my neck.
“I’m listening, Rus.” His bottom lip drags up the column of my throat, brushing along more of the wounds Odette left behind.
“They keep saying that you’re theirs. That they want me to stay away even though you keep showing up out of nowhere. Both must’ve remembered…what you said about me. Really harped that point when they were assaulting you because they won’t drop it. I told them that they needed to leave you alone and keep you out of it. Then I brought up the stabbing, and Odette did some of her own.”
Mills licks at one of Odette’s claw marks then clasps his mouth under the right side of my jaw. I let out a shuddered exhale of breath, followed by a needy moan. Which technically isn’t my fault because of what he’s doing, the jerk.
“So fighting over me?”
I sigh, both because the man doesn’t need his ego stroked, confident in everything he does and says, and because his mouth feels so good. “You seem to be a sensitive topic.”
“Seem to be.” His tongue drops another trail and across another scratch.
“Your friend who came by my school to scare Solange off only fueled it too. She’s going to try something else. I—“ Mills’s face comes up to face mine, and he glowers.
“Did she fucking say that?” I shake my head against the animosity radiating off his question. “And you still want them to live?” He looks at me like I’m crazy that I’d want such a thing, but I bob my head this time because I could never agree to something like that. To end someone’s life. “You’re too good for them, you know that?”
“Don’t give me so much credit, Mills. There’s darkness and desires that reside in me that shouldn’t.”
“Such as?”
Wanting you.
“Odette mentioned visiting your mom. You didn’t tell me that.” Mills immediately rights his expression and transforms it back to stoic.
“Wasn’t anything for you to worry about,” he remarks, dropping his arm off the door and stepping away from me. I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “So, I take it sister dearests think we’re fucking, huh?”
I avert my gaze from him because that is just—I can’t.
It’s bad enough I got caught. Fucking weird enough that I did it and was turned on to the man I’ve already assaulted twice.
I’m a different kind of breed.
The type of psychopath meets human being meets horny teenage girl who just discovered an orgasm. Something got messed up in my DNA. At least Solange and Odette know who they are and wear it proudly on their sleeves.
“How about I order us something to eat so you can work on your dress?” I’m immediately grateful that he drops the subject, feeling a weight lifted off my chest.
“Yeah.” My answer comes out as I croak before clearing my throat. “That’d be great, thanks.”
He gestures for the hallway, I guess to let me know he’s not going to block me out again. I don’t make it, but three steps before he’s calling out my name again.
Slowly, I pivot, and he’s right where I left him. “Promise me you’ll just steer clear of them from now on?”
“Only if you promise—” I stop speaking because where has it really gotten me before. I’m tired of all this. I’m exhausted with protecting and going to bat for the women in my family who trample on people because they feel like they can. Nonetheless, my conscience won’t allow me to do anything but keep undeserving people alive.
“That’s what you really want? After everything?” I expected him to lash out at me, always able to read me somehow, and I don’t want it to sound like I don’t care about his needs.
So I don’t say anything at all because I do.
I care about them a lot.
With my silence, Mills moves, closing the distance between us, and I demand my body to stay put. When he’s towering over me, I feel smaller, more measly, but pretty and worth worrying over. I’ve never felt so out of control and powerful all at the same time around someone before.
“Would it make you feel any better if I said I’d think about it?” He pulls down a little on the cotton of my pants, and if he does it anymore, they’re going to slide right down one side of my ass for his viewing pleasure.
However, I’m asking a lot of him.
I’m proposing that he forget his vendetta and move on with his life while my sister's get to continue shopping and spending my father’s money. For him to try to feel whole again while there is no justice served.
“Yes,” I finally say, and Mills abruptly lets go of my clothing and steps back a tiny step.
“Okay, Rus.” He holds my stare, his riveting gray eyes with specks of blue. I want to ask what he’s thinking but stop with my diarrhea of the mouth.
Plucking his phone out of his jeans, he turns his back on me and begins typing away at something.
I want to say something but nothing good enough comes to mind.
I’m a selfish bitch who has morals.
No matter what he’s been through, I still can’t give him the green light, not that he needs it. So I’m not sure why he bothers asking me. Maybe to make him feel better? Though, I highly doubt it.
The thought to comfort him comes to mind, but I don’t want to coddle over something he’s forgiven me about, and it’d be tiresome and futile at this point.
I wish he’s able to heal so that he could be whole again. To live his life better than he had before meeting any of us. I’m a walking reminder, and I’m still bewildered why he even gives a crap about me.
Though, I think Rhett Mills has a soft spot.
And it’s me.
I fell asleep on Amirah’s couch, my brain mush and battling it out with itself for hours. She wants forgiveness where I can’t find any for her sisters, and when she didn’t answer her phone, I came right to the penthouse to find her.
Then the deep, angry, and red scratches along her neck had me raging inside. I could barely hold it together. The only thing that kept me grounded was kissing her neck and breathing in the peace I somehow found there. Amirah is becoming something that welds me in place when really, she should’ve been someone I dipped out on weeks ago.
Getting off the couch, I stroll down the hall to see the spare bedroom light on but no Amirah. I’m thinking she went to bed and forgot to turn the light off when I pivot to check in on her and end up bumping right into her soft frame.
“Oof,” she grunts, her copper hair a mess on top of her head, her eyes glazed over in red from lack of sleep, and a wild look painted on her face. “Hey, did I wake you up?”
The question throws me off. Like, how did we get here? As if it’s normal that I’m sleeping on her couch, and it’s no big thing.
I glance down at my onyx watch and see that the time is well past two in the morning, ignoring the fact that I have other Van Doren daughters to filet and fry. “You’re still working on the dress?”
“Yes,” she says chipperly. “Just about there.” I realize that I hadn’t looked, just wanting to find her and make sure she was all set for her big day tomorrow, which is now today.
