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)
His eyes stay on mine. “Play house.”
What. The fuck. Have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
ASHER
If we all make it out of this alive, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to part with Asher’s presence. I’ll be tied to his name, his legacy, the damn spotlight that comes with it, for the rest of my living days.
I won’t be able to resurrect the legends of Mariée de la Mort even if I want to.
As soon as I’m back in the living room, it’s obvious the seating has changed. Camille relocating beside Asher doesn’t surprise me as much as it annoys me.
It’s desperate. She’s desperate.
Fuck it all. If this is truly the way things are going to go down, then I guess I will play.
“Are you feeling okay?” Elea asks, squeezing my knee.
“Yes.” I smile, side-eying Atlas when he stretches an arm along the back of the sofa behind me. “I think I’m just jet lagged.”
“Mmm.” She pops a grape in her mouth. “I’ve done that very flight multiple times throughout my life and it is not kind.”
My smile doesn’t fall. Not a single slip. Fucking robot, that’s all I am. A robot with real feelings that have been twisted and trained, played with by everyone but myself.
Atlas’s thigh brushes mine and my scalp prickles. Asher wants me to play house, but this isn’t my script.
Wait. Did he say play house or did I imagine that?
Elea’s attention shifts back to me. Up close, the similarities between her and her sons sharpen. “Ivanya...Dubois?”
My last name drops from her lips and my spine locks against the sofa.
She leans closer. “Interesting. Was it your father or your mother with that last name?”
Her shoulders are relaxed, eyes warm. It’s a genuine question.
“My father,” I reply honestly, welcoming the burn of alcohol down my throat.
At this stage, either I’m dying or all of them are, so there’s no point in hiding what I would usually lie to protect.
“Ah.” Elea nods, placing her empty glass on the small table. “Did Asher tell you we have French heritage too?”
He didn’t. Neither did Atlas. Hell, I barely know anything about this family except his grandfather’s billions and now his mother’s unsettling kindness.
That’s not forgetting his own special trick that makes me see red in less than five seconds, of course.
She waves the thought off. “Nothing too extravagant. Now, you!” Her finger lands on Camille, our conversation already lost. “When Khloe arrives, we cannot have another repeat of that Christmas. I get you and Asher have been friends since you were young, but we can’t have any more arrests.”
Camille ignores her, cleaning her nails.
Young? How young? In all the time I’ve seen Asher and her together, they’ve maybe been handsy a handful of times, none of them while we were on Veilarath.
Or maybe that’s just my self-preservation feeding me lies.
Elea’s voice cuts back in. “No dangerous acts. Best behavior. From all.”
Camille scoffs. “It’ll surprise you who is the most dangerous in this room.”
My eyes snap to her, restraint crumbling beneath me. Years of training, years of perfecting control, all amounting to fucking nada if I get my hands around this woman’s throat.
I hold her stare. “I believe you’ve dated him.”
Her lip curls. “Yeah, because that’s who I meant.”
I smile. “I—” Was about to rip her face off.
Out of control.
“Camille.” Tension threads through Elea’s tone. Most wouldn’t catch the threat, but I’ve delivered similar ones myself.
Atlas’s arm slips from the sofa to my shoulders, nestling into my neck. “Mmm. You smell good.” His voice vibrates over me as his other hand lands on my bare belly, thumb circling. “Almost as good as you taste.”
Asher’s eyes harden on Atlas’s movements.
Blonde hair swings into my line of sight when Camille pats Asher’s arm. “Take me upstairs? I could do with a massage.”
Asher curls his hand around hers as she leads him out. I’m a complete idiot for believing a word of what he just said.
“I’m well out of my comfort zone,” I confess, forgetting I’m still sitting in a room full of witnesses, and none of them are mine.
I miss my life. Punk. Luce. Jord. Leon.
Elea squeezes my knee, then rises. “Come. I’ll make us a fresh drink.”
I stay seated, watching her disappear through the archway, still lost in my self-pity.
Atlas taps my thigh with his. “Follow her. She doesn’t like being ignored.”
I turn into him, ready to swear at him or I don’t know, put pressure on his weak points, when his eyes hold me in place. Why does he have to look so much like Asher yet not like him at all?
“Don’t look at me like that.” Atlas clucks his tongue, eyes narrowing on my lips. “I’m starting to get the gist of how he fell for you, Ivy…”
My pulse stutters. “He doesn’t know shit about falling, Atlas.”
“Oh, trust me.” He exhales through his nose. “I don’t think anyone wants to be privy to whatever it is you and my brother share, but for now, follow Mother.”