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“You’re kidding.”
“No. We’re…getting to know each other.” I tried and failed at a casual explanation.
“But she’s a bitch. What more do you need to know?”
I shifted so fast in my chair, I rattled the table as my spine snapped ramrod straight. “Don’t call her that.”
Silence descended.
Seth’s cheeks colored. “But she is. You said it yourself.”
I was the only one she permitted to see behind her frigid bitch mask, and I was the only one allowed to call her that. “Say it again, and we’re going to have a problem.”
He let out a breath and tossed his cards on the table before raising his hands. “Whatever, man. I thought you hated her.”
“I do.”
“Don’t sound very convincing,” Ethan said quietly, and I ignored him.
“Maybe you should fuck it out,” Hank suggested, and Nadir snickered behind his cards.
“I’m not fucking Taylor.”
Hank tried on a deliberate look of scandal. “I didn’t mean Taylor. I meant Seth.”
“Shut up,” I said, and all of us broke up into laughter, cutting the tension.
Though I was still tempted to punch Seth in the face. The kid could do with a punch in the face from someone, anyone. Knock some sense into him.
Taylor would definitely enjoy doing it.
And I’d applaud her from the sidelines.
That was the scariest thought of all. I had no interest in standing in front of her anymore. I’d much rather stand next to her and give her whatever made her happy, including violence.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Taylor
“Are you sure you don’t want to take any of this food home to eat?”
I shook my head, holding up my hand. “I’m sure.”
My grandmother couldn’t blame her cooking skills on her age. She had never been great at it. Her chicken had always been dry.
Nan shrugged and wrapped up the leftovers in tinfoil then stuck them in her refrigerator before sitting back down across from me. She had a box of mixed chocolates and lifted the lid, silently offering them to me. I helped myself to a raspberry-cream-filled one.
“Who’d you get these from? Your boyfriend?” I teased.
She studied the label before choosing a dark chocolate piece with caramel. “Joseph. He lives upstairs.”
“Joseph,” I repeated with a raise of my brow.
“Stop it, you. He’s only being nice.”
“Oh yes. I am always gifted chocolates by men who are only being nice.”
“As well you should be,” she said, completely ignoring my sarcasm. When I didn’t respond, she wiped at her bottom lip with a napkin, then sipped on her water. “Why aren’t you receiving more chocolates and gifts?”
