Page 18 of Pretty Poisoned

"Nope," River says, stepping between us. Though slightly taller than me, her very thin build makes her seem much smaller. It's almost comical watching her scold the 6'1" tattooed giant, even putting her hand over his mouth. "Don't talk to her. Declan said she's not allowed to talk to you or touch you, or she has to go. I don't want that, and neither do you, so go away."

"Whaaat?" he says, shaking her off. "That's bullshit."

She shrugs. "I don't make the rules."

"Whatever. We'll see about that. A little taste never hurt anyone, right?" he says, winking at me.

So, hedidread my message. I smile and give him a slight nod.

"I'm serious, Luca," River says. "I wouldn't test him right now."

"I wasn't talking to her; I was talking to you," he says. "Teagan looks very sexy tonight, River. I'd rip her clothes off with my teeth if I could. I bet you would, too, wouldn't you?"

"I'm not answering that," she says, ushering me further into the room. "Go away."

Inside the small room, there's a minibar and some dark leather furniture. Layla sits on a sofa next to the two girls whose names I was told I don't need to know. She's talking with them—perhaps trying her best to be happy—but I can see in her eyes that she's still upset. I make a mental note to try to get close to her, to try to get her alone and figure out what she did that upset Declan so much and why he would be punishing her.

Punishments, tests, timeouts. Is this what Declan does to his family? Is that what really happened to those girls?

Alana, the girl Declan was with last night—the one that he cut during the show—lies across the loveseat with her feet in Brady's lap while he massages her legs. She has bandages around both of her wrists and a cocktail of some sort in her other hand.

"Hey! Teagan!" she says cheerfully enough to make me think she must already be drunk. "Welcome to the mother fucking party."

"Thanks. Alana, right?"

"The one and only," she says, draining the contents of her glass.

"Do you want a drink?" River asks. "I can make you something. We have maybe fifteen minutes."

I don't know that I've ever needed a drink more in my entire fucking life.

"I can make it myself," I say, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the center of the table. "See? I just made it." I remove the cap and bring it to my mouth, swallowing a few times as it burns the back of my throat.

"I think I'm in love," she says, taking the bottle from me and doing the same.

"Hazel," a deep voice bellows. Declan stands in the doorway wearing a pair of tight, shredded jeans and a black v-neck shirt with his arms crossed in front of him. His presence is heavy, oppressive even. The entire room reacts to it. I wait for him to see me, to acknowledge me in some way—after all, he broke into my hotel this afternoon, and I'm here because of him, aren't I? But he doesn't seem to notice; if he does, he certainly doesn't react.

It bothers me.

I remind myself that I'm not here for Declan's attention—that I don't want it. But he has mine right now, just like he has theirs. My eyes make their way over his biceps, his chest, and up to his perfectly angled jaw.

"Yes, Daddy?" Hazel replies.

"Come," he says. He turns and leaves the room without waiting for her, and she stands and quickly follows.

"What was that about?" I whisper to River.

"Declan likes her tongue ring, too," she says.

"I'm pretty sure he hates me. He's been fucking awful—"

She whips her head around, her blue eyes darken with anger as her bubbly, easygoing demeanor dissipates as if a switch has been flipped. "Don't," she says through clenched teeth.

Taken aback, I struggle to find the words for a few seconds. "I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…to…"

But what did I not mean to do?

"He's taken you in, hasn't he?" she asks. I'm not sure how to respond because I'm not sure that's what's happening. I didn't ask to be taken in. "He brought you here; he's giving you a chance. And if he's doing that, it's for a reason, and you have to earn it. You should be more grateful."

---