Page 60 of Riot Rules
“I do not negotiate with terrorists. Ever. If you think you’ve got dirt on me, then fuck. Go for it. Tell Wren. Tell my parents. Get it printed in the New York Times if you think they’ll run it. I don’t care. Just don’t lie on my bed and pretend like any of this is an innocent social call, okay. I’ve known you for nearly four years. I know how your mind works, and I don’t have the time or the energy for it.”
Mercy pouts. “Boo. You’re boring. When didyoudecide that having fun was a crime?”
“This isn’t fun. This is pathetic. Just tell me what you want and let’s end the charade as quickly as possible.”
She lifts her chin, making an austere face. “Yahs. Let’s, shall we? Rah rah.”
Her fake English accent always was shit. It hasn’t gotten any better. I ignore her sad attempt to bait me. She maintains the stupid expression on her face for a second, but then slumps her shoulders rolling her eyes. “Alright. Fine. Have it your way. I want to move in here.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “Here? At Riot House?”
She looks like she’s about to hurl herself at me and claw my eyes out. “Yes, here, at Riot House. Where else do you thinkheremeans?”
I sit down heavily on the bench by my little upright piano, sighing heavily. “Dude. You know Wren’s position on this. He’s already told you no, like, eleven million times.”
Her green eyes flash with anger. She’s like her brother in so many ways, but she’s nowhere near as good at hiding her feelings. “Do you know how offensive it is to me that you three get to live down here in this sick house without a hall monitor breathing down your neck, while I have to rinse other people’s pubic hair out of the shower tray every morning? I need a private bathroom, Dashiell. Ideservea private bathroom. I deserve to be with my brother, and I should not have to rub shoulders with a bunch of plebs—”
“I’d hardly call the children of some of the world’s greatest military, political and creative minds plebeians.”
“Shut up! God. Seriously. You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live amongst them.”
I pick up a pencil from on top of the stack of sheet music I was working on last night, spinning it over my fingers. “What do you want me to do, Mercy.Makehim let you move in here?”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like anyone can make Wren do anything. You need to plant the seed surreptitiously. Tell him how cool you think I am. Mention that you think the place needs some feminine energy to balance out all of the testosterone—”
“Not happening.”
“Okay, fine.” She sets her jaw, narrowing her eyes at me. “Youcome up with a way of convincing him to let me move in here…and I’ll let you fuck me as your reward.”
I laser in on her, staring her down. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She pouts, rolling over onto her back. She props herself up on her elbows, looking me up and down. “You sound like an idiot when you talk and you’re a total simp, but I’d do it. I’d let you fuck me.”
Oh, this is just too fucking much. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. She hasn’t changed. She was a spoiled little brat the day I met her, and she’ll remain one until the day she dies. I stand up slowly, setting down the pencil, and move to stand at the end of my bed, right by her feet. “That’s an interesting proposition.”
She smiles, pleased with herself. “I figured you might think so.” Her legs are crossed at the ankles. That is, until she uncrosses them slowly, seductively sliding her legs apart. Just a little. A couple of inches. Enough for me to see the crotch of her plain white cotton panties.
How veryinnocent little school girlof her.
Smirking, I climb up onto the end of the bed, one leg on either side of hers so that I’m kneeling over her. She looks up at me, fluttering her eyelashes—I thought women only did that in cartoons—and practically purrs as she says, “Oh, you think I’m just gonna give it to you now, before you get the job done?”
“Yes. I think you’ll give it to me whenever you get the chance.” I move further up her body, so that my knees are bracketingherknees. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to black tunnels. She licks her lips, her breath quickening. She trails her hand up the outside of my leg until she reaches my waist, where she hooks her index finger through one of the belt loops on my jeans. I haven’t worn a suit in weeks.
“Fine. I suppose…you might be right, there.” She swallows thickly, trying to clear her throat.
I help her out by falling forward, wrapping my hand around her neck and squeezing. Not very tight. Not even tight enough to scare her, let alone leave a mark. Just enough to shock the shit out of her. She tries to slap me, but I grab her by the wrist and pin her hand over her head. Both of my hands are occupied now, whereas Mercy still has one free. She raises it, winding back to slap me with that one, but I shake her hard, just once, jolting her so that her head bounces off the comforter.
“Don’t.” I bare my teeth, lowering myself until I’m close enough for her to see the whites of my fucking eyes. “If you want my help with something, Mercy, come right out and ask me for it. I’ll speak to Wren for you, but I’m not manipulating him into letting you move in here. I’m not gonna lie to him, either. I swear to god, if you ever try and pull this shit again—”
A slow, sadistic smirk spreads across Wren’s twin sister’s face. “You’ll what, Lord Lovett? You gonnaspankme?”
I climb off her and grab her by her ankles. I drag her forward and she falls off the edge of the mattress; her ass hits the floor with a loudthump.
The worst part for Mercy, the biggest insult of all: “Prick! You messed up my blow-out!” She smooths her hands over her long black hair, fuming. “You think you won’t pay for that?” she snaps.
“I’m sure I will. A thousand times.”
“There are certain things I could tell my brother. I’ve seen whose room you’ve been sneaking out of in the middle of the night.”
