Page 44 of Monster's Edge

Right now, there’s nobody else around. It’s just me and my vibrator. I’m left to my own devices, and I’m not going to waste this private moment. When I come, my hand is around my throat and my eyes are tightly shut. I’m picturing Ian above me. I’m thinking about his dick sliding inside of me once again.

And I’m thinking that no man has ever scared me – or confused me – as much as Ian Salucci.

*

MY FATHER IS ABSENTat breakfast the next day. This isn’t particularly unusual. The two of us generally have breakfast together, but some mornings he doesn’t show. It’s never been a big deal. It’s just one of his little quirks, I suppose.

Today, however, there’s an air of tension in the house. Georgetta is scurrying around, bringing coffee to the dining room and balancing multiple trays of biscuits.

“It’s just me,” I finally tell her. “What’s with the rush?”

“It’s not just you,” she says, lowering her voice, but before she can say anything else, the doors to the dining room open and my father walks in.

“Good morning, Rose.” He’s wearing a suit. It’s a new one I haven’t seen before. Why did he buy a new suit?

“Father.” I nod. My hair is styled, and my makeup is done, but I’m not wearing anything fancy because after I eat, I’ll head to the animal shelter. I’m supposed to steal Lorenzo’s phone for Ian today, which is a weird sort of task I haven’t forgotten about. I still don’t know why he needs it.

“It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

Instantly, my skin starts to crawl. Why is my father being fake to me? Generally, the two of us don’t talk much. He gives me orders or tells me to do things. He’s not aniceperson. He’s not the kind of father who says things like, “It’s a beautiful morning.”

Instead of answering, I stare at my father. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my response. He’s still standing just inside the dining room doors. If I don’t answer, he’s probably going to walk over here and smack me in the face. I’m not really interested in starting my day with a bruise. Bruises are a bitch to cover with makeup, especially when they’re on the face.

“Yes,” I finally manage to say. My appetite is gone. I’m much too nervous to finish eating. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“It’s such alovelyday, in fact,” he continues, taking a step into the room, “that I think you should go on a walk.”

“A walk? Dad, I have work in an hour.” I do, too. Today we’re going to have several scheduled adoptions to process. One of the cats had kittens recently, so we’re going to be taking pictures for our shelter website. That’s one of the ways that we advertise to potential adoptive families. Everyone has an idea of the type of pet they want. Seeing pictures online can help them decide.

My father doesn’t know this, though, and I can tell by the way his eyes narrow ever-so-slightly that he’s not giving me a choice. Suddenly, the massive oak table seems to stretch even farther. I’m sitting next to the head of the table, which is where my dad always sits, and that’s when I realize that there’s a place setting for the spot across from me.

He’s brought a guest.

Before I can say anything else or even attempt to argue, a man walks into the room. He’s tall with a big, broad chest and blonde hair that’s cropped close to his head. I recognize him from the party last night. He’s one of the men who was talking to my father. In fact, I’ve seen him at parties before. They must be associates of some kind, but I don’t really know how the two of them know each other.

Instantly, I push out my chair and get to my feet. I make my face appear emotionless and plain. Uninterested, but not rude. I wait until my father tells me this man’s name. The two of them walk down the opposite side of the room and stop in front of the place setting. My father’s table space is empty. He won’t be staying.

“Rose, this is Mr. Ricci.”

“Sir.” I nod, letting him know that I can see him, letting him know that I understand he’s here.

Mr. Ricci doesn’t say anything at first. He’s got a long, pointy nose and two beady eyes that make me want to shirk back and hide. What the hell is doing here? Who is he? What does he want?

Instead of speaking to me, he turns to my father.

“She’s fatter than you told me.”

Instantly, I blush furiously. I don’t say anything, though. I want to. I want to tell this guy to suck my dick, to fuck off. I want to tell him to leave me the hell alone. Who is he? What does he want? And why the fuck does he think it’s okay to insult me?

There’s nothing wrong with being curvy. Ian certainly doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit that my breasts are soft and heavy instead of tiny and perky. He doesn’t care that he can grab my tummy or squeeze my ass. In fact, considering how many times the two of us have fooled around, I’m pretty sure that he likes me just fine.

“She loses weight easily,” my father says. He’s staring at me with a look of disappointment, as though he’s upset that I’ve let this stranger down somehow.

“Dad?” I ask quietly. “What’s going on?”

“Have breakfast with Mr. Ricci,” he tells me in a tone that lets me know this is final. “Then go on a walk together. I think you’ll be surprised at just how much the two of you have in common.”

“I have to work in an hour,” I remind my father.

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