“I was thinking you could wear a dark purple dress to match Saint’s tie,” Mom says, dragging me kicking and screaming into the conversation. “It would look great in all the photos.”
I take my time chewing the food in my mouth, before dabbing the corners of my mouth with a napkin, and then I speak. “I thought one usually wore black to funerals.”
“Harlow, please.” Mom’s eyes well up, but I’m not falling for it. Not now I know she’s had a lifetime to practice her acting skills.
“If you’re insisting on forcing me to participate in this fucking charade, I’ll only wear black.” I throw my napkin down, pushing my chair back and rising to indicate I’m done with this convo.
Strong hands land on my shoulders, pressing me back into the chair. “You’ll wear whatever the fuck your mother wants you to wear,” Neo says, his voice sending chills down my spine, and they’re definitely not the good kind. “And you’ll act like you fucking love it. Something tells me you’re experienced at faking it, so I’m sure you’ll manage.” He digs his hands into my shoulders, inflicting pain, but I don’t even flinch.
The underlying threat is crystal clear, but I would’ve relented without it, because I’m playing a carefully constructed part. “Fine,” I snap. “I’ll cooperate.” I push Neo’s hands off my shoulders, unable to feel his touch on any part of me without my skin crawling like a thousand fire ants have burrowed their way under my flesh. I stand, leveling Mom with one of my special death glares. It’s a look I’ve never had cause to send in her direction before. “I’ll be the model daughter even if I’m hating every second of it. You faked being the model wife long enough; I’ll just take my cue from you.” She gasps, but I ignore her, grabbing my half-eaten plate and walking to the sink. I scrape the dried eggs and overdone bacon into the trash can underneath.
“Harlow, baby, please.” Mom chokes on her words, her eyes sad as she reaches for me, but I sidestep her.
“Enjoy your weekend, Giana. Don’t forget to pack your first aid kit. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
CHAPTER 12
“MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLES,” I yell, kicking my punctured tire. I glance at my watch, cursing under my breath. If they’d just deflated one of my tires, I could’ve changed it and still gotten to school in time, but the assholes have punctured all four tires on my SUV.
“New rules,” Saint says, entering the garage from the house. “You ride to and from school with us from now on.”
“Eat shit, asshole.”
I brush past him, but he grabs hold of my elbow. “Your little temper tantrums are getting old. Just be a good whore, and do what you’re told.”
I smile sweetly in his face as I slam the heel of my boot down on his foot. Instead of loosening his hold on me, he tightens his grip on my arm, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. A muscle pulses in his jaw as his other arm rings my neck and he squeezes tight. “I’m all out of patience, princess. And I’m done asking nicely.” I snort out a laugh, and his eyes narrow to slits. “I have no qualms about hurting women if they deserve it. Especially lying, thieving, manipulative whores,” he threatens.
He lets me go, pushing me away, and I fall back into a hard, warm chest. “Like father, like son,” I coolly reply, straightening up. Saint stands rooted in place, exuding rage that is both silent and lethal. He flexes his knuckles as he pins me with a look loaded with venom and the promise of retaliation, and a shudder works its way through me, but I quickly shake it off. “And the only manipulative whore around here is my mother.”
I spin around, shoulder checking Galen as I brush past him. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
In a move Diesel taught me, I twist around underneath Galen’s arm and punch him in the nuts. He roars out in pain, instantly letting me go as he drops to his knees on the unforgiving concrete.
Saint grabs me by the shoulders, and he looks seconds away from going postal on my ass. But there’s begrudging respect there too although he disguises it so fast I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it. Saint hands me off to Theo. “Put her in the car.”
“I need to go to my room.”
Saint levels me with some serious evil eye.
“I’m on my period, and I forgot tampons,” I lie, and my sugarcoated tone matches the fake sugary-sweet smile on my lips. “Unless you’re happy for me to bleed out all over your shiny, new Land Rover.” Not that it’d be anything new. I’m sure the guys are used to cleaning up blood.
The gangster business must pay well because all the guys have sweet rides, and I can admit to myself that I’m dying for a spin in Caz’s Mitsubishi Eclipse.
“I’ll take her,” Theo says, clasping my arm.
I wrench out of his grip and pin him with a look Voldemort would be proud of.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Saint snaps, extending an arm to haul Galen to his feet.
Galen grabs my neck before Theo can shepherd me away. “Touch my dick again and I’ll chop off your tits and shove them down your filthy mouth.”
“Not before I castrate you and shove your dick up your ass!” I bite back.
“Get her out of here before she winds up dead,” Saint says, and I grab my backpack, letting Theo usher me away.
He drops my arm when we reach the kitchen, and I stare straight ahead, pretending I don’t see Neo’s hand moving under Mom’s skirt as she leans over the sink, rinsing dishes. I fold my arms around my body and ignore the rancid churning in my gut.
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Theo murmurs as we climb the stairs.
I shake my head in disbelief. “I already know his soul is pitch-black.”
“Things don’t have to be so hostile, Lo. We don’t have to be your enemy.”
I twirl around at the top of the stairs and jab my finger in his chest. “Don’t act so fucking naïve. We’re on opposite sides, and everyone knows this is the way it has to be. Pretending otherwise fools no one.” I head toward my bedroom with his footsteps heavy behind me.
He catches up to me just as I reach my room, spinning me around and slamming my back into the wall. My bag drops to the ground as he presses the length of his body against mine, holding me in place. The familiar feel of him against me raises a host of feelings I’ve worked hard to bury. “You’re still so fucking stubborn and so fucking angry.”
“I’ve good reason, Theo.”
He sighs, cupping my face as he peers deep into my eyes. His hazel eyes are more green than brown today, and a pang of longing for the past jumps up and slaps me out of nowhere. “I know, babe.” He looks at me the way he used to look at me. With comfort, familiarity, adoration, respect, and love, and it fucking slays me inside.
He doesn’t know this, but at one time, Theo was my savior. The reason I got up out of bed every day. The reason I chose to fight and not give up. Until he abandoned me and I lost the last parts of my soul. “Don’t call me that.” Hurt rushes to the surface, and I avert my eyes.
“If I said I’m sorry, and that I’ve regretted my actions every day since, would it help?” he pleads, caressing my cheek with his thumb.