Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Isn’t it past your bedtime, Miles of Trouble?”
“Shh.” She lowers her voice, looking around, and thank God Lenin disappeared. “I sneaked out. Don’t tell Mommy.”
“Never. But why did you sneak out?”
Her large blue eyes twinkle under the dim lights as she plays with the lapel of my Vipers jacket. “I heard Nanny say you lost the game tonight, and I wanted to make you feel better. Look.” She reaches into her oversized pocket and produces a wrapped pastry, then removes the wrap and places it near my mouth. “I saved you this from dinner.”
“Aw, you kept it on you all this time?”
“Yup! Hid it under my pillow. It’s a bit crushed. Sorry, Pressie.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” I take a bite. “It’s so sweet.”
“Right?” Her eyes widen as she watches me, gulping audibly, practically drooling all over the place. “Does it make you feel better?”
“Way better. But I’m so full, you have it, Mimi.”
“Really?”
I push it toward her mouth, and she devours it in seconds. It’s her favorite petit four pastry, and she was obviously on the fence about eating it, but my little sister kept it for me instead.
It’s disturbing how different Miley is from her snake of a mother. You can bet I ordered a DNA test to make sure she was actually Lilith’s daughter, but unfortunately, it came back with a match.
Let’s just say my angelic half-sister takes after me rather than either of her parents. She looks like me as well. Her blond hair is curly and a bit darker than mine when I was her age, and her eyes are different, but she’s just as beautiful as I am.
No, not like me.
No one should ever be plagued with that. She’s way better.
Different.
She’ll definitely be different.
“You were awesome tonight!” she says after she finishes the pastry.
“I was?”
“Yup!”
“But I lost.”
“That’s okay. You were still so cool. I watched the game with Daddy for a bit before Mommy took me to bed, and you had awesome moves! Bang! Next time you take me skating, I’ll bring my sparkly skates, and you can teach me moves.”
Bias is showing, Miles. Forgiven, though. Can you blame her?
Then I focus on something she said and frown. “Dad watched the game?”
He doesn’t usually—I don’t think—and just shows up at the finals for image reasons.
Miley nods vigorously. “Yeah. Mommy, too.”
Gag.
“Miley!”
Speak of the goddamn devil.
Satan’s lover, aka Lilith Armstrong, rushes toward us in a flurry of silk and fluff, her hair gathered in a bun, her eyes shooting imaginary lasers at me.
Lilith is Dad’s second wife, but she wasn’t his first girlfriend after Mom. No, she was probably the fifth that he introduced to me. I managed to drive all the others away, but this pest has been impossible to get rid of.
“You should be in bed, Miley!” Satan’s lover yells, attempting to pull my sister from my arm, and I lower her to her feet, breathing harshly to keep calm and not bash the woman’s head in.
Miley’s mother. She’s Miley’s mother. Miley would be crushed.
Stay calm.
Zen down, motherfucker.
My sister stares at her feet. “I wanted to see Preston.”
“You already have. Time for bed.”
“Pressie.” Miley’s lower lip nudges forward in a pout as she looks at me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I pat the top of her head. “I’ll pick you up after school, and we can go downtown, okay?”
“Okay!” Miley’s pout transforms to a wide grin in a fraction of a second.
Lilith grabs her hand and starts dragging her toward the stairs, but then she stops and stares at me, her lips curving in an evil smile. “That game was embarrassing to watch, dear son.”
I flip her off discreetly, so Miley doesn’t see, and she purses her lips as she takes my sister along.
One day, I’ll see that hag burned at the stake.
Or maybe just kicked out so Miley doesn’t suffer.
Listen, I indeed have issues. Yes, Mom taught me to hate whoever Dad brought along, because he was trying to replace us with them, but Lilith is just a bitch.
I was probably nine when she first got to know Dad, and unlike the others, she didn’t seem like a liar. She said she’d be so happy if I could accept her, because she’d always wanted a son.
And I believed the bitch.
I know, very amateurish on my part. Already murdered young me for all his insolence.
Moving on.
Back then, Satan’s lover made my favorite food and was still nice if Dad wasn’t there. She was so caring and attentive, I thought about how lucky I’d be if I had her after Mom’s death.
In class, I even painted her in a picture with Dad and Mom. I wanted to show it to her, but that’s when I overheard her talking to her best friend on the phone, about three months after I met her.
“The kid? A piece of cake. He was trying to be an asshole at first, but I knew how to deal with him. The little fucker lacks motherly affection, so I just acted the part, and he latched on fast. Men, right? Act a little, and they fall into place. Age doesn’t matter.”