“Bullshit.” Cyrus says, leaning on Tristan's arm rest. “There's a fuck-ton to talk about.”
“Not really.” I say, feeling as dead as I sound. “It’s business, right?”
“Did he touch you?” Cyrus demands, jerking my chin up. I say nothing as I glare at him. Willing my eyes to look as empty as I feel.
“Did he fucking touch you?” He asks again, painfully gripping my jaw.
“Does it matter?” I say, blinking slowly. “You said it yourself, I’m a toy.”
The way I emphasize the word makes his lip twitch. He’s trying to put up the same icy shields as I am, but I’m better at it. I’m colder, and when it comes down to it, I can be more ruthless.
“Answer him.” Tristan says calmly. “Please.”
“Nothing happened.” I say flatly with my face void of emotion. “He opened the door, I stepped out, and you two walked up.”
“That’s it?” Tristan asks, studying my poker face.
“That’s it.” I say, glaring at him. They didn’t need to know anything else. No one did. What happened with me and Dimitri will stay between him and I.
Nothing good can come from telling them what happened. They’ll either brush it off and, in doing so, hurt my feelings even more or they’ll overreact and end up getting themselves or someone else killed. I refuse to have any more blood on my hands. This battle is mine and mine alone.
Nothing good can come from telling them what happened. They’ll either brush it off and, in doing so, hurt my feelings even more or they’ll overreact and end up getting themselves or someone else killed. I refuse to have their blood on my hands. This battle is mine and mine alone.
Nothing good can come from telling them what happened, they’ll only end up getting themselves killed or at the very least getting excommunicated from The Organization. I refuse to have their blood on my hands. This battle is mine and mine alone.
“She’s fucking lying.” Cyrus says, glaring down at me. “I can see it all over her fucking face.”
A laugh bubbles out of me.
“You’re really going to accuse me of lying right now? After the way you two acted?”
“No.” Tristan says, using his arm to push his twin back. “We’re not.”
“Is there anything else?” I ask the question as a formality, more than anything else. They won’t get any genuine answers from me. Not anymore.
“Yeah, there is.” Cyrus says, glaring his emerald eyes at me. “Put some fucking clothes on. Your sister is waiting for us.”
Nine
“You’re a f…fucking idiot, you know that.”
Tristan’s words bring a smile to my lips as I ease myself down into the armchair Stevie vacated. He was waiting for the opportunity to bite my head off and with Stevie finally out of earshot, now’s his chance.
“Love you too, Bro.” I say, giving him a playful wink as I stretch my arms along the back of the chair.
Tristan sits back in his matching chair and groans as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “What the f… fuck were you thinking?” He mumbles, trying to keep his voice down. Stevie may be out of earshot while she changes in her closet, but neither of us wants her privy to this conversation.
I glance at her closet door and mindlessly wonder what she’ll come out in. After finding out she came to us with nothing more than a handful of shirts and jeans, the four of us made it a point to have our personal shoppers fill her closet with anything and everything she could need. We thought of asking Stevie for her input, but after seeing how she reacts to help of any kind, we decided it was easier for us to pick out the items ourselves.
“Hey, Asshole.” Tristan whispers, kicking my loafer to get my attention and pull me out my head. “I asked you a question.”
I turn back to him and give him a dismissive glance. “I was thinking we were about two seconds away from losing the only person any of us give a real shit about.” I say, readjusting the watch on my wrist. “You saw the look on her face. She checked out.”
Tristan releases a heavy sigh and rubs his palms down his face. He may hate what I did, but he knows I’m right.
As we sit in silence, I focus my attention on the gas fireplace and watch as the bright blue and orange flames dance wildly behind the glass. It’s the only source of light in her room, and as the flames flicker around chaotically, I find myself more and more enthralled in their movements. The hypnotic trance I fall into bears a striking resemblance to how I feel when I watch Stevie. Like the flame, her movements can be wild and unpredictable, but in those moments of peace, where outside sources aren’t pulling her in different directions, she’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
Tristan shifts forward in his chair and glares up at me. “You realize you’re baiting her with s… something that isn’t f… fucking real.”
