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I roll my eyes. “Good to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I head toward the door.
“I know where he was going,” she says.
I glance back, keeping my expression more amused than anything else. “Excuse me?”
“Your wife is pretty,” she starts as soon as she knows she has my attention. She crosses the room to plop herself casually down onto an oversized armchair. She slings her long legs over one arm and lets one spiked heeled shoe hang off her toes. “Do you fuck her, or do you let your brother do that like you used to with the gifts Daddy sent you?”
Gifts.
Women.
Human beings.
But this family has never been bothered by such distinctions. I know one of the reasons being around them impacts me so viscerally is that for a time, I became like them… and that’s a terrifying thing to see in oneself.
I narrow my gaze, my jaw tightening, but I don’t respond. She knows I never fucked any of the women her father sent as my rewards. She also knows that Caius did. Camilla always had a way of finding things out, almost like she had her own spy system all those years. I wonder if we all didn’t underestimate her.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking. I’m so curious.” She lets her gaze slide suggestively over me.
“You’re out of line.”
“Am I? It’s just a question. You know I used to wonder if you couldn’t get it up, but then I’d hear you some nights.” I should walk out. “Choking the life out of your dick when I’d happily have pleasured you with my mouth. Or any other hole.”
I try to hide my surprise at her crudeness, which is so opposite the perfect good-girl look she has going on. “My dick would have shriveled up and died once your poison tongue touched it. Excuse me.”
“I bet she likes taking it from him,” she says innocently. “Do you watch?”
I’ve just put my hand on the doorknob, and although I should know better, although every instinct is to walk away, I react. Because something about the thought of Caius touching Madelena makes me fucking insane. Before she can utter another word, I’m on her, and have her on her feet, my hand around her throat.
“You don’t talk about my wife. You don’t think about my wife. Thoughts of her never cross your sick mind. Understand?”
She claws at my forearm, her face growing red, eyes too wide. I loosen my grip then release her altogether before I fucking kill her.
One corner of her mouth curves upward, and she licks her lips in that way a predator licks his before closing its jaws around the throat of its prey.
“You mean thoughts about your wife in general or thoughts about your brother fucking your wife?”
My fists clench at my sides.
“Caius is pretty talented with his tongue. I’m sure she’s enjoying—” She cries out when I take her by her throat again and this time, thrust her against the wall.
“You are your father’s daughter. It’s no wonder he was so fucking proud of his little psychopath brat.” I give one more squeeze, hear the strangled sound she makes before dropping her onto the floor and turning to go.
“Thiago got a call before he left,” she says, tone scratchy and not quite as composed as it was moments ago.
I pause, then decide to keep walking. She’s playing with me.
“Something about a meeting at the lighthouse,” she adds.
That does make me stop and squeeze my eyes shut. Because fuck.
“Did you know that when I’d listen to you jerk off, I’d finger myself and imagine it was you fucking me?” she asks, all sweetness again.
I glance back at her. She’s up on her feet and twirling her hair like her mother was moments ago. “I heard him. He was going to meet someone at the lighthouse. And now he’s gone. Was it you he was going to meet? Did you make him disappear like you made Daddy disappear?”
“You’re lying.”
“I think you know I’m not. But there’s a more important question you should be asking me, don’t you think?”
