Page 93 of For the Plot
Everything stops. My blood turns to ice. Reece’s head jerks toward the sound, his hands yanking the coat up over my front as if he can undo what’s already been seen.
Archer stands in the entryway, mouth open, eyes wide, taking in everything. My half-naked body straddling his father. The trench coat doing little to cover me. Reece’s hands still wrapped around me in possession.
“What the actual fuck,” Archer says, voice low and deadly.
“Shit.” Reece pushes me off his lap, standing so fast I stumble back. “Archer, wait?—”
“Are you fucking serious?” Archer shouts. “You’refucking her? You’re— God, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Cover yourself,” Reece says to me, voice sharp and tight.
The way he says it, like I’m the problem, likeIdid something shameful, slices straight through me.
“I—I didn’t know anyone was coming,” I stammer, yanking the coat shut, hands shaking as I try to fasten the belt.
“I told you towait,” Reece growls at Archer, but his tone is all wrong. It’s guilt, not anger.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Archer snaps. “Was I interrupting your little live porn shoot? Jesus Christ. How long has this been going on?”
“Archer,” Reece warns. “Stop.”
“No. Fuck that. You—” Archer turns to me. “What the hell, Skye? You’re screwing my father now? Is this some sick revenge plan?”
My throat tightens. “It wasn’t like that?—”
Reece cuts in. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation.”
“Butyoudo,” Archer explodes. “You were supposed to be the one person I could count on not to pull this kind of shit.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“But youdid!”
The silence that follows is unbearable. My coat is barely tied. My cheeks are burning. I can’t look at either of them.
Reece turns to me. His voice is low. Cold. “I think it’s best if you go.”
My chest caves in. “What?”
His eyes meet mine, and they’re full of regret. Not love. Not longing. Not the fire from the kitchen counter or the tenderness from my broken bed. Just guilt.
“You should go,” he repeats.
I nod, numb. My heels click against the marble as I walk to the door, coat clenched tight with shaking hands.
Chapter 20
Reece
The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence is deafening.
Archer stares at me like he’s trying to rewire reality. Like if he blinks enough times, the image of Skye in nothing but lingerie and thigh-high boots on my lap will disappear from his memory.
“What the fuck,” he finally says, voice low and lethal. “What the actual fuck, Dad.”
I say nothing. Because there’s no version of this that doesn’t end with someone gutted.
“You and Skye?” he breathes. “Are you kidding me right now?”
