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Folding his lips together, he glances over my head, a mask of stoicism falling over his features. All business.
He reaches to his ear, touching a finger to his earpiece, and spouts off some kind of code. The device in my ear crackles, my brother’s instructions to get closer and figure out who’s just approached Juliet clear over the line.
Shaking my head, I give Boyd a sad smile. “Duty calls.”
“Fiona—”
But I don’t stop to listen, trudging up to where Juliet and her friend have been joined by a familiar-looking middle-aged woman with a bad dye job and bright eyes.
Manic eyes.
I notice the facial resemblances between her and Juliet before I register their conversation, and it adds to the fire already searing my skin.
“...you’re crazier than I remember,” Juliet says, gesturing at the crowd surrounding them.
The woman’s face hardens, something evil lurking there. “Ah, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? I heard you started therapy. Good for you, darling, considering how your mental health has stupendously stunted your growth.”
Fury takes flight in my chest, scorching a path right down to my toes, propelling me forward. I’m butting in where I don’t belong, but my anger spurs me on, has me latching on to the first thing it might be able to fix.
“That’s fucking rude.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare daggers at the woman, trying my best to accurately place her in my head.
They all turn to face me, Juliet’s friend shifting closer to her as they take in my appearance—diamond stilettos, a pink crushed velvet dress, red hair pulled into an elaborate updo.
I know what I probably look like outside of the outfit, can feel the crazy in my eyes exploding like a thousand individual supernovas. My shoulders square, and I feel Boyd take a step forward, but I refuse to look at him.
Recognition seems to dawn on the older woman as she takes me in, and I watch her clutch at the necklace dangling around her throat, as if she’s prepared to make this a thing.
She doesn’t know how close I am to snapping for real.
“Fiona...” Boyd says in his warning voice, low and throaty. Normally, it’d make my pussy flutter, but right now it just makes me angrier.
I just want to know what he’s hiding.
“What?” I snap, narrowing my eyes at the woman. “You want me to sit and be quiet when an old hag insults my friend? I think the fuck not.”
Friend might be a liberal use of the word, considering I really only barely know Juliet, but I notice the flash of surprise that flickers in the woman’s eyes at the thought of Juliet having support in me, and it sends satisfaction to my very soul that I’ve caught her off guard.
As I step forward, I’m yanked backward when Boyd wraps his hand around mine. I whip my head around to fix him with a nasty look, almost getting lost in the sternness on his face; the downturn of his plush mouth, the hard set of his jaw, the flare in his eyes that says he wants to flog me again, maybe this time with something more powerful than his belt.
The look is mesmerizing. Captivating. I feel myself falling for it, succumbing to his domination, but then I remember him kicking me off his property two nights ago and it refuels my anger, sending it flying in different directions, difficult to get a hold of.
“Let go of me,” I growl, jerking my hand in his.
His grip tightens. “Stop trying to make a fucking scene.”
“You’re not allowed to tell me what to do, dick. You’re not my father, or my brother, or my boyfriend. Remember?”
I’m vaguely aware of the fact that the pitch of my voice is reaching dangerous heights, but I’m too far gone to make it stop.
I feel dozens of pairs of eyes on us, the intensity of their perusal sweltering; Boyd notices, too, dropping my hand like I’ve burned him, his lips pulling back in a snarl.
He adjusts the collar of his suit with a shrug, releasing me, seeming to force his face to relax. “Have it your way, princess.”
Venom laces the word as it spits from his mouth, making my stomach cramp as he turns and stalks off, leaving me to rot in the mess of my own making.
I watch his back as he makes his way back to the parking lot, feeling incredibly stupid, then offer Juliet a soft smile and take off after him, my heels sinking into the grass as I sprint.
‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’
