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She glares. “Stay out of it, whore.”
I hold my palms up. “I couldn’t care less what either one of you do.”
Peyton presses her huge boobs into Kingston’s side. “C’mon, baby, let me take care of you. It’s been so long. I’ll even let you stick it up you know where.”
She looks directly at me as she says this, like she thinks I’d be jealous or something. One might think anal sex was a rather bold topic for Peyton to bring up in front of the parents, but we’re on the opposite end of a table that seats at least thirty. It’s the rich person’s version of a kiddie table, I suppose. She’s being quiet enough that her voice won’t carry, but it’s obvious she wants me to hear this for some reason.
Kingston scoffs. “I’d rather have my dick rot off than ever put it inside you again.”
I don’t even try to hide my laughter which makes Peyton fume. I don’t think she was expecting such a venomous response, and she certainly didn’t want me to witness it.
She discreetly flips me off before turning her attention back to Kingston. “Maybe I’ll go see Lucas Gale. He’s always interested.”
Kingston rolls his eyes. “Knock yourself out. Tell him I send my condolences.”
Peyton sits back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Ugh, whatever.”
Man, what the hell is up with these two? I guess Ainsley was right—their relationship is for appearances only. My question is, why bother?
If I thought dinner my first night here was awkward, it was nothing compared to this. Throughout the rest of the meal, I sit back and stockpile information. I’m a people watcher—always have been. You can learn a lot about someone’s true self by simply paying attention. And these people are definitely trying to hide something. Thankfully, they’re all so self-absorbed, nobody notices I’m not talking, nor do they try to engage me in conversation.
It’s so obvious they can’t stand each other. As Charles and Mr. Davenport discuss boating, or golfing, or how well their businesses are doing, you can see their minds working, trying to figure out what to say next to best the other. The two wives at the table are all smiles and laughter, but when Mrs. Davenport looks away, Madeline rolls her eyes, glares at Sperm Donor, or sends longing looks in Mr. Davenport’s direction. Mrs. Davenport has her own set of wandering eyes when she thinks no one is watching, although hers are directed toward her stepson. Huh. That’s... interesting.
As for Peyton and Kingston, those two are probably the worst. Every single time Peyton opens her mouth, Kingston’s fist clenches on his lap. When she asks him a question, he answers with as few words as possible. If she’s complaining about something or belittling someone—which takes up practically the entire conversation—Kingston scoffs or flat-out ignores her. Peyton doesn’t seem to notice he hasn’t made any effort as she prattles on and on. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. I wouldn’t be surprised by either.
I can’t get back to my room fast enough once the final course is cleared. God, why would anyone want to live like that? They’re all so toxic to one another. Are appearances really that important?
AFTER TAKING A SHOWER, I walk out of the bathroom and scream when I see the hulking figure sitting on my bed. His lips tilt in a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself for frightening me. My eyes hone in on muscular arms as he folds them behind his head, relaxing as if he has every right to be on my bed. God, he really is a perfect specimen of the male species. Broad shoulders, ripped body, full lips, and a jaw that would make Henry Cavill jealous. How can someone so ugly on the inside be so beautiful on the outside?
Kingston’s hazel eyes are his most prominent feature. Not because they’re framed by inky black lashes that women pay good money for, more so because of how much depth they hold. No doubt, this guy is hiding some major demons. After meeting his dad earlier, I’d wager that man is a big part of it. As Kingston’s gaze bores into me, taking in the fact I’m wearing nothing but a towel, chills race down my spine. Hatred wars with lust as he looks me over, causing all sorts of confusing emotions.
I refuse to let this jerk intimidate me though, so I straighten my spine and return his frosty expression. “What are you doing here, Kingston? How did you even know which room was mine?”
He eyes me with a look so sinister, I almost lose my bravado. “We need to have a little chat.”
I make a conscious effort to loosen my limbs as I walk into my closet and start searching for some pajamas. “Unless you’re here to apologize for being an asshole, I have no desire to listen to anything you have to say.”
I stiffen when I feel his hard body pressed against mine. Crap, how did he move across the room so silently?
“That’s never going to happen. We might as well get that out of the way.”
I jerk my head over my shoulder. “Well, then you can leave.”
Before I can even register what’s happening, Kingston has me turned around and pressed against the back wall of my closet. He run
s the tip of his finger across my exposed collarbone, swiping at the droplets of water left behind from my shower. I bite back a moan as tingles erupt throughout my body, making my toes curl.
He leans down so we’re face to face, holding me captive with his gaze. I challenge him with my defiance, never once looking away. I can smell alcohol on his breath as the heat from his body crashes into mine. I’m hyperaware that only a flimsy towel covers my body as he cages me in. An inferno builds inside of me as we stare at one another, wordlessly communicating something... although I haven’t quite figured out what that may be yet.
Kingston grips my chin and leans in farther until he’s mere inches away from my mouth. “Listen to me carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. Stay the fuck out of my way. I’ve worked too long and too hard to have some newly discovered bastard screw this up for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I fight a wince when his grip tightens. I’m almost certain I’ll have fingertip-shaped bruises left behind. “Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”
Kingston’s nostrils flare. “Because you distract me.”
“Distract you? And that’s my fault how?”
His eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
