Page 87 of Beautiful Venom
He watches me with intrusive intent.
“What?”
“I’m still waiting for you to thank me for last night.”
“Do you usually save people to be thanked?”
“I don’t usually save people, but in your case, yes, I want to be thanked properly.”
“Thanks,” I say around a bite of pancake.
“That didn’t sound sincere.”
“Well, you should’ve provided clearer instructions. You said to thank you, not to make it sound sincere.”
He narrows his eyes. “That mouth of yours needs to learn some discipline.”
“Or you need to listen to other opinions aside from your own.”
“Not interested. Either things go my way or they crash and burn. No in-between.”
The warning is clear.
I shouldn’t mess with his system.
But something tells me that behind all that control, behind the walls and the cold, there’s chaos.
And somehow, someway, I’ve been pulled into it.
Now, whether I get consumed by it or use it to my advantage depends on how I handle this new situation.
We finish breakfast in relative silence. Kane doesn’t seem to want to talk much, and my attempts to start a conversation are met with monosyllabic replies.
It’s the ice fortress that surrounds him, completely camouflaging him from the outside world.
And me.
As we stand to get ready for school, the doorbell rings.
Kane goes to the screen that shows who’s outside. I trudge behind him and lean sideways to see.
A woman who looks to be in her mid-to-late forties stands there with a weary expression, her cheeks sunken and her icy eyes a replica of Kane’s.
His mother?
I expect him to open the door, but he just clicks on the phone button, his voice completely detached. “Mother. What can I do for you?”
“Honey.” She lifts a box in front of the camera. “I made you your favorite cookies.”
“I don’t eat those anymore.”
Her expression sinks and she shifts her eyes to the side, awkwardly inspecting her surroundings.
“If there isn’t anything else.” He reaches for the hang-up button, but I press the unlock key first.
“Please come in, Mrs. Davenport,” I say before the click of the door sounds in the distance.
Kane’s head tilts in my direction, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think you’re doing?”
