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“You can go now,” Ryder informs the driver before rolling up the divider window.
The vehicle moves forward then, and Ryder sinks back into the seat, an exhale easing from his lips as he loosens his tie then ultimately takes it off. “Thank fucking God that’s over,” he mutters, tossing the tie onto the leather seat. His gaze lifts to mine, and I purposefully look away, staring at the front of the limo.
“You know, I love parties,” Reece chimes in, “but that thing was an absolute nightmare. I swear to God if I heard one more fake congratulations, I was about to cut someone’s hand off.”
“Agreed,” Ryder replies. “It’s insane how they actually believed we thought they were happy about our families being united when almost everyone is scared shitless. No one, except our fathers, wants us to have that much power.”
“Yep. And yet, everyone went on with it like little bitches,” Reece states with an exhausted sigh.
I unintentionally snort a laugh.
“Is something funny?” Reece wonders, sounding curiously confused.
Rolling my eyes, I look at him. “Yeah, you three.” I make a gesture at the three of them.
Amusement glimmers in his eyes as he leans back in the seat with his arms crossed. “Oh yeah, how so?”
I force a disdainful smirk onto my face. “Because you’re sitting here, whining about having to hear congratulations. Woe is fucking me, Reece. If that’s your biggest problem, then let me play you the world’s tiniest violin. And you”—I aim my attention at Ryder as more words tumble out me—“you’re sitting here, bitching about how everyone here are little bitches that just comply, but what the fuck do you think you just did?”
I could be punished for this. By mafia law, I belong to them, and they can do whatever they want to me. But I can’t find the will to give a shit. Let them do whatever they want. My life is over, anyway.
Ryder and Reece trade a look. Then Ryder rests his arm on the armrest and stares at me with a patience that seems wrong on him. “Are you done? Or do you want to say more?”
His calm words make me fume even more.
“Actually, yeah.” I turn on Blaise then, rotating in the seat until I face him. “And you, with your little send-Jessa-to-comfort-me mission. Could you be any more fucking annoying?”
His brows spring upward. “How the hell was that annoying? I was trying to help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” I snap. “And I don’t want you to know when I need your help, so stop knowing.”
He gapes at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I probably have, but between the stress of the night and the last three years, this has been slowly brewing inside me, this insanity to say every word I’ve held back since the day they betrayed me.
“How in the hell am I supposed to just stop knowing things I know?” he asks, genuinely befuddled.
“I don’t know!” My tone oozes with disdain. “How about just do whatever the three of you did three years ago where you forgot we were friends?”
That must strike a nerve because he visibly winces.
“Al,” he starts to say.
“Blaise,” Ryder warns, and Blaise seals his lips shut.
“Yeah, listen to your boss, Blaise,” I mock. “I mean, technically, you’re all supposed to be on the same level, but we all know Ryder’s really running the show.” I give him a cruel smile.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe I don’t, but I have been able to observe you three for the last three years, and it seems like you’ve got Reece and Blaise whipped.” I make a whipping sound.
The muscle in Ryder’s jaw pulsates. “Keep going. Let it all out, if that’s what you need.”
His compliance sends me over the edge. “No, you don’t get to be nice, Ryder St. Claire. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“Sorry, but I’m not going to be mean to you, even if that’s what you want,” he replies tightly with his arms crossed. “I’m not Blaise and Reece—I don’t spoil you when you’re acting like a brat.”
I feel like I’m that fifteen-year-old girl again, standing in the hallway, listening confusedly as he lies about taking my virginity and making me feel small.
The last of my grasp on my emotions dwindles, and before I can even comprehend what I’m doing, I lunge at him, ready to smack him again. The problem is, the damn dress makes me move slow enough that Blaise is able to wrap an arm around my waist and pulls me back before I can.
