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 cut into the meat on my plate again, biting the piece into my mouth while being careful not to smudge my lipstick.
How long do I have to endure this? Another hour? Two minutes?
Asher lowers his mouth to her ear and says something to make her smile turn lazy.
My wine curdles in my stomach.
I hate him. I fucking hate him.
Khloe makes a wounded noise. “Rude. We are literally curating perfection over here and those two are putting on a show.”
Was that a smirk from Sinead? I’m drunk.
Elea sighs, lowering her knife and fork. “Khloe.”
“What?” she glances around the table. “I’m right.”
“You usually are,” Atlas mutters, chewing his food.
Khloe beams proudly. “Thank you.”
My phone buzzes again. Punk. Then Luce right after. They always have impeccable timing to rub in my suffering.
Atlas nudges his head toward my plate. “Eat something, V.”
“Are you worried about me?” I tip my chin up, all wide eyes and zero sincerity.
He huffs a breath through his nose, amusement ghosting across his face. “No. I’m worried you’re going to stab somebody with a steak knife and ruin dessert.”
I glance at him. “There are worse losses.”
His mouth twitches.
Across the table, Camille leans into Asher again, fingers brushing the open collar of his shirt, and he lets her. More than lets her. Encourages it. He goes lazy in his chair, one hand sliding onto her thigh, angled just right so I have a full, unobstructed view of exactly how little he gives a fuck. The worst part is that he knows I’m watching. He can probably feel it the same way I do.
I empty my glass, swallowing it in one go, before Khloe gasps from my side. “Oh, this one is it. Ivy looks hot. I’m posting. If I have to sit through this weird incest-adjacent jealousy pageant, I deserve joy.”
Camille stiffens, and Elea closes her eyes for one brief second like she’s speaking privately to God.
Atlas holds out his hand. “Phone.”
Khloe finally gives it up, and he studies the screen, then whistles low. “She’s right.”
I don’t need to see the photo. I know what I look like.
Shaking my head, I let Khloe have her fun, since she’s right. Tonight is fucking weird enough.
Khloe points at me like she’s presenting a prize. “Tell me she doesn’t look hot.”
“Khloe,” Elea warns, but I see the flicker of a grin. Huh. Could little chaos have earned this trait from her mother?
“What?” Khloe widens her smile, eyes glistening with absolute mania. “I’m asking the table.”
We all kind of know she isn’t…
Atlas turns the phone a little, angling it away from the candles. “Smash.”
Khloe bursts out laughing, and the tension in the air just cracked up a notch.
Camille says something to Asher, but he doesn’t answer, too focused on Atlas, before shifting to me.
Oh, oh… have we rocked his perfect boat?
Before I can give him my widest smile, a weight drops in my gut. I should look away. I don’t.
Asher’s mouth curls, his voice low. “You having fun?”
The whole table goes still, and Khloe leans back with her lips pressed together like she’s biting down a grin.
My eyes land on him. “Oh, are you talking to me?”
Blood rushes behind my ears, muffling out the sound of Atlas cussing beneath his breath.
Asher raises a brow. “I am, actually.”
Being the absolute fool that he is, Atlas further baits his brother, winking at me with a smirk.
“Are you done?” Asher snaps at him, his body rigid as he leans back.
“With dinner?” Atlas teases, testing his boyish charm.
Asher glares at him. “With acting like a fucking idiot.”
Silence.
Atlas’s smile thins. “You’ll have to narrow that down.”
Is Atlas purposely pissing him off? Or is this all an act?
Camille places a hand on Asher’s arm, soft and soothing and fully suicidal. “Ash, don’t.”
His gaze doesn’t leave Atlas. Or me. Hard to tell who he wants to kill more. Kind of wish it was me so I could at least be out of this dinner.
Khloe, because she was clearly born without fear, picks up her phone again. “Wait, no one move. I need one candi—”
“Khloe,” Elea whines, rolling her eyes. “Must you be—”
Too late.
The flash goes off, snapping the slow curl of Asher’s smile. If I was a better woman, I’d tap out here. I’d pack up my things and go to bed.
Leaning back in my chair, I swirl the Pinot in my glass.
I’m not a better woman. I’m barely half of one.
“I mean,” I let the words marinate in my mouth. “I’m not even sure if I would have turned you down, Atlas. You know, had I seen you first…”
Everything stops. The chatter, movement, even Khloe’s giggle dies an instant death.
Not literally. Sadly, nobody bursts into flames.
Tension breaks when Asher leans one elbow on the table. “And if you had?” he asks, his tone calm. “Seen him first.”
I could lie. I could turn this into a joke, smooth it over, throw Khloe another one-liner and let the moment pass. Instead, I look right at him and say, “Then maybe I would have saved a bullet.”