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“Time off. Huh. I thought you had a lot to do with your early mornings and all?” I’m giving him crap, and he knows it. “I mean, you’re sure you really want to waste a week hanging out with your bratty stepsister?”
Whatever I’m expecting, I don’t get it.
Smirking, he struts over, puts his hands on my shoulders, and pulls me into a bear hug that leaves me winded.
“Come the hell on, Delia. You think I’d pass up a free trip to Sin City? You’re the one who begged me to play nice.” He pushes his lips to my head, touching my earlobe. “Maybe I decided to listen.”
Oh, boy.
I have to lock my knees to avoid falling over.
What game is he playing?
“Vegas can be a dangerous place, especially for a young lady traveling by herself,” Dad says matter-of-factly. “He’s not there to be your shadow, Cordelia, but we’ll all feel better with Chris along for the ride if anything untoward happens.”
“...guys, I’m not helpless. I can take care of myself. I can—”
“Dudes trying to spike your drinks, biker gangs, mafia sharks—even a few cartels,” Chris barks coldly. “I’m the ace up your sleeve. Vampire repellent. We don’t have to be joined at the hip, but if anybody looks at you wrong, just say the word.”
Eep.The way he winks tells me he’s a far bigger problem than any random creep from the underworld.
A sigh slowly hisses out of my lungs.
“Who knows, Delia,” he continues. “Maybe I can even help you get back on track with that project your old man’s been telling me about. Hang with me in Vegas and find out how I like to play after work.”
His lips curl into something resembling an honest smile.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the way he flips my heart?
Still, even if he’s being a monster dick, teasing me like this, in the back of my mind, he isn’t completely wrong.
He’s holding out an olive branch—assuming it isn’t a carrot.
Yeah.
Everything about this screams terrible idea, but if I hang around watching him drink and gamble his butt off, maybe he’ll loosen up.
Maybe my paper won’t be dead in the water.
Maybe I’ll get something I can use to crack through his mental armor.
There’s also another mystery nipping at the back of my mind.
Why is he suddenly so freaking enthusiastic and jolly about this?
Is it all just a show for Dad? And why would he bother?
Or is it a ploy to get closer to me again?
My throat tightens as I look at him. I swallow and cough, almost choking.
“That a yes, Delia?” Chris whispers.
I don’t answer.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Dad gives me a tense look.
I know.
