Page 40 of Undisputed Chaos
“Right," Her friend sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I mean, he probably has girls throwing themselves at him constantly. Professional athletes always do."
The dig was subtle but sharp, and I watched Isla's face fall slightly.
I was gathering that these weren't friends—they were vultures in designer clothes, circling my angel with barely concealed jealousy.
Time to remind her who was really paying attention.
I typed out a DM to mess with her pretty little head:
@AdrianCatalyst
How is your latte, angel?
Isla read it wide-eyed, glancing around the restaurant nervously.
She wouldn't find me. I was too good for that, but I loved watching her search, loved knowing she was thinking about me, wondering if I was near.
I was. I was always closer than she thought.
@IslaBelleflower
How did you know?
@AdrianCatalyst
I know everything about you. The knife on your wrist is my symbol. You're wearing it because you're mine, Isla.
I watched her read the message, watched her cheeks flush deeper as she realized the implications.
Her fingers traced the drawing absently, and she bit her lower lip, making me want to replace her teeth with mine.
My angel liked the idea of being watched, of being pursued.
"Isla?" Her friend’s voice was sharp. "Are you even listening to us?"
"Sorry," Isla mumbled, putting her phone face down on the table. "What were you saying?"
"We were talking about that new boutique opening downtown," Tracy said, her eyes narrowing as she noticed Isla's flustered state. "The one with the cute crop tops. Though I guess you wouldn’t wear those.”
Another dig, this one aimed directly at Isla's curves. My hands tightened on the steering wheel. These bitches were testing my patience.
"Speaking of clothes," Bailey chimed in, “You should really consider changing up your wardrobe, Isla. All those flowy dresses aren’t great on you.”
That did it. Rage flared hot and violent in my chest, the same anger that used to get me in trouble before Wade Easton taught me how to channel it.
Nobody, and I mean fuckingnobody, talked to my angel like that.
I watched Isla's face contort slightly, watched her sigh and shake her head.
"Why do you always have to say things like that?" The words came out soft but clear, cutting through Bailey's smug expression like a blade.
Bailey blinked, clearly taken aback by the unexpected pushback. "What? We're just trying to help...”
Fucking liars. I saw right through these plastic bitches. They were jealous that someone like me had noticed Isla instead of them. Jealous that she had curves where they had sharp angles. Jealous that she was real where they were fake.
“It doesn’t feel very helpful.” Isla's tone wasn't confrontational, just genuinely disappointed in that way that made people squirm.
Tracy shifted uncomfortably, fork pausing mid-air. "We're your friends. Friends give honest feedback."
