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“I don’t have a father, Luca.”
“That much is abundantly obvious.”
“Since you’re so wealthy in that department and I so poor,” she says, a dangerous glint in her eyes, “why don’t you share? Don’t be selfish, Luca. Let me have a go on your dad.”
I move back from her, struck by a wave of mingled disgust and arousal. “Stop trying to fuck your way into my family.”
She laughs. “You’d probably be more attracted to me if I was related to you, you sick fuck.”
“If I was related to you, the only thing I’d be attracted to is a quick and early death.”
“You mean I could get laidandkill you off?” Willow says. “Now I’mdefinitelygoing to fuck your dad.”
“My dad doesn’t fuck trash.”
“Wanna bet?”
Willow stretches her hand out to me. Her smile is a dangerous red slash, her eyes pits of poison. My skin is buzzing with electricity, and my dick is hard and aching in my trousers.
My body, seemingly, doesn’t understand the subtle difference between anger and arousal.
“Very well.” I take Willow’s hand. “Fuck my dad and I’ll kill myself for your pleasure.”
She wraps her fingers around mine and squeezes, digging her blood-red nails into my skin. “And if I fail?”
I crush her fingers between mine.
“Fail and I’ll fuckyouhalf to death.”
The limousine drives upthe tree-lined road, slowing down in the queue before coming to a smooth stop at the foot of the Coram Ridge Manor steps. Attendants rush to the door, dressed in dark liveries. I get out first and lean down to give Willow my hand, half-expecting her to slap it away. But she takes it with a dark smile, plum-red lips stretching like a bloody Cheshire grin.
“Let’s have fun tonight, darling,” she says, in the sweet tone of the CHOKE days, that ersatz innocence that implies spread thighs and a fuckable mouth.
“Hope to see you crash and burn,angel.”
She gives a coy giggle and rises from the limousine with surprising grace. She laces her arm through mine, pressing her body into the side of mine. The smell of her washes over me like a physical touch—black orchids and vetiver and cigarette ash and a metallic edge, a smell like tasting metal on one’s mouth.
Outside the limousine, the night air is cool and fragrant. A breeze brushes through the gardens, lifting with it the scent of flowers and damp earth. Coram Ridge Manor stands above us ablaze with lights, its turrets rising against an azure sky splattered with stars.
At the top of the great stone steps of Coram Ridge, my parents stand side by side by the open doorway. My father is dressed all in black, my mother in an ivory column dress with a gauze cloak wrapped around her shoulders and trailing off amongst the vases of camellias framing the doors. I feel the weight of their gazes on me.
As much as I’ve brought Willow here to be on trial, I, too, will stand accused in my parents’ eyes, guilty until proven innocent.
They’ll want to know if this is real or if I bought Willow. They’ll want to know exactly how much I spent on the extravagance of having a normal, pretty woman on my arm, and they’ll want to know if Willow is another weeping girl they’ll have to bind into a virtual cage of NDAs and legal gags. Little do they know, there’s nothing normal or pretty about Willow.
Willow might look like a delicate flower, but she is as toxic and rotten and wrong as I am.
I feel a tug on my arm, followed by the brushing of Willow’s lips against my ear.
“I should’ve guessed your parents look like siblings.”
I’m almost tempted to crack a smile. My parents are both blond and pale and grey-eyed. Like calls to like, as they say, but in the case of my parents, their wedding was arranged by their families as efficiently and emotionlessly as a merger.Likehad nothing to do with it, and attraction was never mentioned in any of the paperwork.
All that was required from my mother was that she should bear my father a son—which she did. All that was required of my father was that he should remain faithful to my mother for as long as they were trying to conceive to prevent any risk of sexually transmitted diseases.
Both of them kept their end of the bargain, and since then, both of them have freely pursued their own pleasures and interests.
It’s the key to their successful marriage.
