Page 191 of The Perfect Wrong

“Ma?” I push Delia’s hand away, bowing up like a mongoose in front of a cobra. “What are you doing lurking out here?”

She smiles sweetly.

Rather, she imitates what Evangeline Triton thinks a friendly smile looks like on a normal person.

“Oh, I’ve just been enjoying the show, Christopher.” She flips through something on her screen, never shaking off that wicked-ass grin. “Wow.Wow.And here I thought the pics I snapped while you two were dancing your butts off were pretty scandalous!” She pauses, giving Delia a dead-eyed look. “I do hope your father won’t have a coronary when he sees them, Cordelia.”

Fuck her.

I want to rip the phone out of her hands and shatter it against the nearest wall. Only, I already know how futile that is with backup to the cloud before her phone pings, and that sneering smile on her face widens.

“Well, there’s Bruce now,” she purrs, her eyes fixed darkly on Delia. “Looks like he got the message. Daddy says he’s coming home early from Atlanta, honey. He wants to have a heart-to-heart with his son and daughter—and well, who can blame him?”

Before, Delia’s little hand was shaking in mine.

Now, it’s her whole arm.

I pull her closer and step forward, inserting myself between the woman I love and the hell-witch who brought me into this fucking joke of a world.

“Go ahead, you disgusting witch. We weren’t planning to keep this under wraps anyway. I planned on telling Bruce myself next week like a civilized person. Sending him those pics just speeds that up and embarrasses everybody in the process. So, yeah, thanks for sticking your damn meddling nose where it doesn’t belong,Mother.” I spit the last word like something rotten.

The same pale-green eyes that are too much like mine flare.

She’s pissed that I’m not more rattled.

She lives to trigger me, to make me scream and lash out.

I’m sure she’s not above provoking me into a domestic disturbance.

Yeah, fuck that. I’m not taking the bait.

I also won’t let her see that it’s taking all my focus to hold it together, to avoid shoving past her with Delia over my shoulder, heading straight to my truck so we can leave this asylum forever.

I hate that my girl looks cornered, her arms folded awkwardly to hold that shredded dress together.

When Ma doesn’t get her way, it’s never pretty.

She lunges first, her hand darting out, and she slaps me across the face so hard my ears ring.

It barely stings compared to what I’ve been through on missions, but the sound resonates through me like an explosion, threatening to turn everything I’ve built with my girl to ash.

I hear Delia sniffle, sense her reaching up with her free hand to wipe her eyes.

The urge to throw my own mother through the wall headfirst has never been stronger.

“Hit me again, and you’re going away in handcuffs. I’ll have the cops here in a heartbeat,” I bite off. Every last thread of my self-control is dangling in those words.

“Sure you will, you dickless little shit. You’re just like your father, after all. Notmanenough to deal with me without someone else in the way.” She huffs and looks at the ground for a second before our eyes lock again. “You’re such an embarrassment, Christopher. You think you’re smarter than everybody else, Mr. Man? Including the woman who regrets ever squeezing you out? You think bouncing around playing big-shot SEAL means everybody should worship the ground you walk on, including this slut?”

Evie gestures at Delia with one bright-green fingernail aimed like a sword.

I swear, if she moves any closer, I’ll break it the fuck off.

I’m a human coil, wound up and ready to strike.

Still, violence won’t solve anything except delivering exactly what she wants.

So I do the only thing I can.

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