Rexton should be thanking me, not accusing me of sexual harassment. If anybody overhears this, my reputation will be ruined. Nobody will take me seriously. I’ll become the laughingstock of Wrath.
I’ll have no choice but to disappear forever.
My bracelet limits me to Wrath and Lust, but there are several pockets of uncultivated land for me to vanish into. I’ll never be seen again. Maybe that’s Rexton’s goal. He’s winning, and I’m powerless to stop it.
Rexton shakes his head. “Hells, if Charlie found out…”
I cock my head to the side, realization sweeping through me. Rexton doesn’t care about the prostitute, not really. He cares that it came fromme. Me, a twenty-seven-year-old adult woman. I didn’t realize this would be an issue with Rexton. I should’ve known better.
I may be the Wrath Trio’s daughter, but I’m no child.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
CASSIA
REXTON’S WORDS RUMINATE, tumbling around in my mind.“If Charlie found out…”
I should’ve known he’d be just like the others. Not a single person here, at least not anybody worth knowing, treats me like an adult. They act as if I am a spoiled, little girl who has had everything handed to me. They don’t trust me.
My failure to murder Mammon didn’t help.
I assumed things would be different with Rexton. He left Wrath when I was young. I have no memories of him, and he didn’t recognize me when we crossed paths in Greed. I took that as a good sign, but I was mistaken.
He can’t handle me sending him a prostitute. He can’t handle the mere thought that I might know what sex is. He’s afraid of what my parents will say—as if they have the right to care. They don’t.
I grind my teeth. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child.”
Rexton blows out a breath, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I’m aware of that.”
Is he? It doesn’t seem so.
“I’ve been fully independent for several years,” I continue. “I have my own apartment. I make my own money. I buy my own groceries and cook my own meals.”
“That’s nice.”
“I’ve been fucked by several men.”
Rexton blinks. “Okay.”
He sinks into his chair. He doesn’t know how to respond to me. Good. It’s about time people get it through their thick, fucking skulls that I’m not a child.
“I don’t need your lectures on sexual harassment,” I say. “You would’ve accepted the prostitute had it come from anybody but me, and I don’t appreciate you treating me differently because you once saw my chubby baby arms and smelled a shitty diaper or two.”
Rexton shakes his head. “I’m not. I just don’t appreciate—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Rexton falls silent. I can practically see the cogs turning in his brain. He’s trying to find a way out of this, but there isn’t one.
“Cassia,” Rexton starts. “I need you to listen to me very carefully…” He leans forward, propping his elbows on my desk. “I don’t give a fuck what or who you do in your free time, and I especially don’t care about your weird complex about being viewed as an adult. I don’t appreciate coworkers sending prostitutes to my home, end of story.”
Lie.
“You’re worried about my mother finding out,” I say. “Do you think she’ll be upset her baby girl has gotten herself involved in such adult activities?”
She wouldn’t give a fuck. Mom loves everything I do. It’s impossible to disappoint or upset the woman, minus the rare occasion I put myself in danger. My fathers don’t care about my adult activities, either. They prefer not to know the details, butthey sure aren’t threatening the men I occasionally bring home. They understand I’m not a child.
“It was a poor choice of words,” Rexton admits. “I didn’t say it because you’re Charlie’s daughter. I said it because she and I recently had a conversation about my romantic life, and she would find great humor in knowing a succubus paid a visit to my home.”
