Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I need to fucking stop this shit.
Before I can talk myself into ruining more shit, my phone lights up on the nightstand. I stay still for a second, listening. Three full breaths, then I ease my arm out from under her neck, careful not to wake her.
She shifts, murmuring something that doesn’t involve any buffed-up Marvel character but still makes my eyes narrow, then buries her face deeper into the pillow.
I grab the phone and tap the message open.
Come to my room. Now.
Camille has some fucking nerve.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark, my thumb hovering over the letter F.
Ivy’s leg twitches against mine, and I look at her one more time. Then I slip out from beneath the sheets and grab my sweats, pulling them on without looking back, because if I do, I won’t fucking leave.
The house is quiet as I take the stairs to the third floor. I stuck Camille at the far end of the hall, way the fuck away from me, next to the guest wing Ivy thought was my bedroom. Good thing she was fucking wrong, since I would have for real committed first-degree murder if those fuckers were in my bed with her.
Light spills through the cracked door of Camille’s room, and I knuckle it further open.
Camille chuckles from near the window, silk robe falling down her body and a wine glass hanging from her fingers. She looks at me over her shoulder as I kick the door shut.
“I hope you’ve had fun with your little toy.” She lowers her glass onto the table without looking away. “Because everything’s about to change.”
I cross my arms to keep my hands busy, because I don’t trust that I won’t kill her if she says some dumb shit about Ivy. “I don’t have time for your shit, Camille, so spit it out so I can go back to fucking my wife.”
Her features tighten around the hurt before relaxing into a sneer. I don’t know what passes through that messed up head of hers, but whatever it is settles her enough to sit on the bench below the window. She crosses her leg, moving the silk to show more skin.
I don’t look.
Clearing her throat, she pulls the robe back over herself, no doubt offended at my lack of interest. Not sure why. I’ve never hidden it from her.
“The first thing you’re going to do is get rid of her.”
My mouth opens, ready to cuss her all the way the fuck out, but she lifts her finger, cutting me off. “I’m not done.”
She shifts backward. “You’re going to tell her that your marriage isn’t real, and that it was all a trick, and that you’re in love with me.”
My lip curls. “Is that so?”
“Really.” She lifts her chin.
I glare at her.
“The second thing you’re going to do is...” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “That thing you do that ensures she stays busy.”
Everything in me goes still. There’s no fucking way. But I don’t have time to figure out her wordplay, and if I don’t say something, she’ll take it as confirmation.
I take a slow step deeper into her space. “You should know better than to think you sit at any kind of power, Camille.”
She laughs, piercing through every sound barrier known to man, and lands right on my patience. “Oh, but I do. At least with this, and you know it.”
“Get the fuck out,” I snap.
She stands and has the audacity to close the distance between us like it isn’t the only thing keeping her alive. “Oh, honey...” Her finger drags over my scar. “You know this is fate.”
I whack her away. “That ain’t fucking happening.” My hand lands on her throat and I shove her up against the wall. “And if you had half a brain, you wouldn’t fucking touch me again.”
Tilting my head, I let my gaze drag over her face until she quivers under my palm.
“What I would give to end it here. To snap your frail little neck and call it a fucking day, but as you know…” I lower my lips to her ear and goosebumps spread over her skin. “I fucking can’t.”
I ram her against the wall and step away. “Yet.”
Before I change my mind, I turn back towards the door and slam it closed, leaning against it for a second to remind myself she isn’t worth the shit show killing her would create.
“You ok?” My head snaps toward the end of the hall. Khloe. Fuck. I forgot she was on this side of the house.
I flash a smile at her, a genuine one. “Yeah.” It’s the one I only use for her, Ivy, my mom, and fans. For everyone except everyone. “It’s gonna be.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
IVY
An hour. An hour explaining everything that’s changed this fast while I whisk batter that’s way too thick to pass as edible.