Page 111 of Reflections of Peonies
But as I held her hand, one thing was clear: I’d do whatever it took to protect her.
Bianca POV
Bryce stormed into the living room after us as we passed through the doors. He wore a gross, sweaty ensemble of gray sweatpants and a black tank top, and even though he looked a bit rough around the edges, a fire was burning in his eyes. He threw a white towel over his shoulder and pointed at me.
“I challenge you!” he said.
My breath caught in my throat, and conversation in the room halted. Anthony was visiting and was conversing with Julian in the window seat. Finn was on one of the couches with Damen and Miles. The five of them stared at Bryce.
“What are you talking about?” Brayden asked.
“Yes, do explain,” Damen added. “You have no right to intervene with her position—”
“I’m not challenging herposition, you moron.” Bryce didn’t spare Damen a glance. His attention was still fixated on me. “She owes me this.” He pointed at the television. “We had an agreement!”
I sighed—I’d forgotten about our deal. “Fine.”
Why he’d waited until now to bring this up when I’d had the console for a week already, I didn’t know. But if he wanted his butt kicked in front of all these witnesses, who was I to argue?
Damen was still frowning at Bryce. “I’m still not sure what you’re talking about.”
“I’d like to change the terms.” Bryce ignored Damen and continued to address me. “I overheard you talking to Titus earlier, and I disapprove. No one in the Dubois family is a quitter. If I win, you need to stay in school. If I lose, I’ll let you drop out for the semester.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” I frowned at him.
“I’m not finished,” he continued. “You’ve skipped all your appointments with Do Yun this week. You need to go.”
“No,” I told him.
Bryce shrugged. “Well, if you win, I’ll never mention it again.”
“I’m not going to therapy.” All my pent-up anger and frustration was causing my vision to bleed red. He’d been pushing my buttons forweeksnow, and now it was time to murder him. “But fine. I accept your challenge.”
“Hold on.” Brayden stood between us, hands outstretched. “What is this challenge?”
“We’re going to battle it out,” I answered, pushing up my sleeves. “First-person shooter style.”
Finn, watching the scene with barely concealed curiosity, almost fell. However, he regained his bearings and moved to us. But when he spoke, his focus was on my brother. “Bryce, you really don’t want to—”
“Shut up, Finn.” I pushed past him and stalked toward the ottoman. “No one asked you.”
Everyone else, I’d noticed, only stood back. Watching, but—outside of Damen’s initial outburst—not interfering.
Apparently, they’d decided to let me deal with Bryce. Good. My heart swelled at the knowledge that they thought I was capable.
HowdareBryce listen in on a private conversation? Who did he think he was?
My anger quietly built as Brayden, still wearing his befuddledexpression, handed me a game system controller and instructed me how to use it. I was barely listening. My focus remained zeroed in on Bryce, who’d plopped himself elegantly on a second ottoman, wearing an expression as if he was so perfectly brilliant.
I was going to throw my controller at his head.
“You got that, Bianca?” Brayden’s question cut through my silent fury, and I blinked at him.
“Yeah, thanks.” I tried to smile. At least he was tryingto be nice.
Bryce scoffed, and my hatred flared again.
Then the game started.
