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Who the hell’s going to take care of my sisters when I’m gone?
Are these people going to go after my sisters when I’m gone?
I should’ve warned them instead of keeping them in the dark and trying to handle everything by myself.
As the last of the people enter the house, Amelia gets up, crosses the room, and sits down on the back of the sofa beside me. “Relax. The more you panic, the worse this will be.”
“I’m not panicking,” I lie, my voice coming out as smooth as melted chocolate.
The corners of her lips tug upward. “That’s good. You sounded convincing. This might actually work.”
“Huh?” I stare at her, totally lost. “What might work?”
She leans toward me and whispers, “Getting you out of this mess.”
I roll my eyes. “Like you’re actually—”
She places a hand over my mouth, her grin growing. “Yes, I am. Now stop arguing and agree with everything I say, got it?” She waits for me to nod, and I do, but I don’t really mean it. “Good girl.” She traces her finger along my bottom lip. “Your lips are so soft. I bet Blaise likes that.”
I lift my hand up and pry her hand off my lips. “Blaise hasn’t touched my lips,” I lie.
“Really?” She appears positively pleased by the idea. “Then who has?”
“Are we really going to sit here right now and talk about my kissing life?” I give a pressing glance around the room that’s filled with … well, for now, I’m going to call them mobsters.
Her smile is so blinding I swear the damn thing glows. “Austin is right. You’re feisty.” She wets her lips with her tongue. “I’m not surprised, though, that you turned out that way.”
“I’m not …” My words fade from my tongue as I replay what she said. “What do you mean, you’re not surprised I turned out that way? You say it like …” Well, like she knows me.
“Like what?” she asks, sounding lost, though her sparkling eyes suggest otherwise.
“I don’t …” My mind pulsates as images of the day my mom died flash through my mind, sharp and clipped then blurry.
“Quiet,” a man whispers. “Everything will be fine as long as your dad pays his debt.”
“Just be quiet,” a girl whispers. “If you don’t, my dad’s going to get mad.”
My chest tightens, squeezing the air from my lungs. “Do I know you?”
“We just met, remember?” She talks to me like I’m stupid while observing me closely. “I’m Amelia, Axel’s daughter.”
I shake my head. “No, I know you from someplace else.”
Her lips part, her expression softening, but before she can say anything, a man waltzes into the condo and an eerie hush spreads across the room. I’m not sure why. Based on appearances, the man is the least scary of the lot, shorter and less steroid-y, with styled dark hair and wearing a clean-cut suit. To me, he looks like he should be working in some office in New York, so the tension flooding everyone’s expression has me wondering what this man has done to make a bunch of beast-sized men and women look like they’re about to piss their pants.
“Father,” Austin greets the man with a short nod and a shaky smile. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
The man—Axel—silently stares at Austin until he becomes twitchy and squirmy. “I wish I could say the same, but I can’t.” He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the counter and picks it up. “I would’ve preferred if you’d stayed in New York so that I didn’t have to have the constant reminder of what a fuck-up my only son is.”
Ouch. I may not like Austin, but holy asshats, that was harsh.
“Sorry,” Austin mumbles, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s pathetic.” Axel hands the bottle to Austin. “Now pour me a drink. And try not to put too much ice in it this time.”
“Yes, Father.” Austin takes the bottle from his dad then cowers deeper into the kitchen to get a glass and some ice, but he ends up spilling ice all over the floor.
Giving an annoyed sigh, Axel twists around and turns to a tall woman with blood-red hair. “Nat, will you please supervise my son with his incompetence. And while you’re at it, try to beat some sense into him.”
