Page 202 of Chaos Kills

“I just want to make sure?—”

“I’m a big girl,” she retorts. “No need to go through all the trouble.” She pats my chest. “Remember what I said.”

She leaves me no choice about what we’ve just done as she pries herself out of my hold and starts for the door.

And when she opens it, she doesn’t look back or give me a withering, seductive stare, she just leaves.

Taking my thoughts but not what the hell just happened with her.

FORTY-SIX

reeve

I hate it here.

I loathe the overabundance of vases of roses that literally sit on every flat surface in this fucking house. I detest how she’s changed it, how it’s erased my father and transformed into some floral-decorated nightmare of too many pastel colors and expensive decor that some interior decorator placed in here.

This place became less home when Rosalie committed suicide. This environment became unbearable when Dad disappeared into thin air. It influenced the dramatic gap that separates me and my mother.

I don’t come here anymore.

We never see each other.

I’ll spend weeks ignoring her text messages until she gets tired for a few months and does it the fuck again. And she chose the wrong time to start back up because I’m in a doozy of a high right now, ready to fuck with anyone who decides to piss me off just so it entertains me.

And tonight, Mother Dearest wants to have tea.

Tea.

As if we live in the fucking 1800s or England.

Who the fuck in Connecticut drinks hot tea in a perfectly picked pattern of china wear?

Elaine Stanton does, ladies and gents.

“Reeve, do you still like sugar in your tea?” Mom leans over the vintage timepiece of the coffee table in front of us. A whole tea set placed precisely in the center with—what do you know—pink roses on the bottom.

I wonder how many times she had a maid move it to make sure it was to her liking. And I’d sit here and worry about it, but I’d rather toss the whole thing across the room and have it match my mood.

Especially since I had a close encounter with Bay the other night.

More than a fucking close encounter, I got to smell a mixture of peaches and violets.

It smelled amazing.

It made my cock so fucking hard, and there was nothing that I wanted to do more than bend her over and fuck her until I lost the rest of my fucking high.

But Vivian fucked all that up, and Ozzy was having a panic attack.

So, I took to what I always said and put him first. He’s my brother, someone I’m supposed to look after.

And I’m doing a hell of a job right now.

However, no one said or ordered him to marry Bay.

I never would have.

It would’ve happened over my dead body, so maybe I’m overdue for that to happen.

---