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Finally, Reece flips on a lamp, causing soft light to kiss the room and reveal the truth of the situation.
Jay and Jessa are on the floor. Jessa’s hair is a mess, Jay has his shirt off, Trystan looks like he’s about to piss his pants, and Reece is standing there, looking as god-like as ever. Or, well, devil-like as ever.
Reece is a mixture of both with pale blond hair that runs down to his chin and the brightest blue eyes, so bright he looks angelic. But he’s also dressed head-to-toe in black, metal piercings glinting from his lip and brow, and intricate tattoos inking the flesh of his arms.
He’s staring at me, not with anger—that’s not his style. No, he’s looking at me calmly.
“Please, man,” Trystan pleads with his hands up. “I didn’t know who she was until just barely. I swear, if I had, I wouldn’t have touched her.”
Reece flicks a glance at him, his expression stoic. “How much of her did you touch?”
“Are fucking kidding me?” I interrupt, fuming. “That’s none of your damn business.” I may be forced to marry him, but that doesn’t mean he owns me.
He never used to be like this. He used to be fun and flirty … until he was a backstabbing dickhead.
I stand up from the bed. “Trystan, you can go.” I give him an encouraging look.
He avoids my gaze, fixating directly on Reece. Jessa and Jay haven’t said a word, but Jessa is whispering in Jay’s ear, probably telling him what’s happening.
When Trystan continues to look at Reece, I shake my head and say to him, “You’re seriously going to wait for him to give you permission to leave this room?”
Trystan shifts his weight. “He’s Reece Averyson.”
True, but anger still simmers through my veins.
“And I’m Allura Everlyson,” I snap. “The goddamn woman who’s going to be the key to linking the city’s four most powerful mobster families, so maybe you better start considering that before you think my permission isn’t valid enough for you.”
Reece’s baby blues slide to me, a hint of delighted surprise glimmering in them, and a dark smile curls at his lips.
“You know what? She’s right,” Reece says to Trystan.
Wait … Did he just agree with me?
How high am I?
“She’s definitely more powerful than me,” Reece continues. “Plus, I’ve known her all my life, and while she may look sweet as hell, it’s all an … allure. Hence her name. Trust me; she can be wickedly cruel when she wants to be.” He gives a short pause, the corners of his lips spasming. “Seriously, I once saw her hack all her doll’s heads off with a butter knife. Do you know how long it takes to cut through plastic with a butter knife? A really fucking long time. I mean, the dedication and calculation she had to put into cutting off their heads was borderline psychopathic.”
And this is why I almost don’t hate Reece.
Let me stress thealmost.
And I almost smile back, but I refuse to let him obtain that sort of satisfaction.
I do, however, play along because Trystan is exasperating.
“I don’t use butter knives anymore,” I say. “I carry a knife right here in a holster.” I pat my thigh.
Nothing is there, but Trystan has no knowledge of this.
His bloodshot eyes travel to my leg, and he gulps.
Reece snaps his finger in front of Trystan’s face. “Keep your fucking eyes up here before I stab them out.”
“Jesus,” Jay mutters from the floor. “What the hell is going on?”
Trystan stumbles backward, his back bumping against the wall. “I-I wasn’t l-looking at her. I-I just …” He takes a deep breath. “Please, can I just go? I promise I’ll never come near her again.”
“Why are you addressing me?” Reece arches his brow then nods his head at me. “I think we established who the boss is.”
