“Believe it or not, Natasha, I’m glad Bianca ditched my half brother.”
“Because you hate the thought of her marrying into the prestigious Weston line?” she says mockingly.
“No, because I value intelligent decisions, and Bianca marrying my half brother was not intelligent. You know this.”
Her hostility slowly transforms into confusion. “If not to kidnap Bianca, why are you staying here?”
“A situation has developed in my household that is untenable, and Carl has agreed to let me ride out the storm aboard his bus.”
“Why not at a fancy hotel?”
“Because I don’t want my father to find me, and credit cards leave a trail.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to.”
She looks at Carl with desperate eyes. “You can’t let her stay.”
“You have no choice,” he says.
Natasha’s hands wrap around the arms of the chair like she’s going to tear them off, but instead, she relaxes and tries to smile, which makes it look like she has gas.
“Since it will only be for a few days, fine.”
Carl’s gaze returns to his computer screen. “Good, now get back to work.”
Toxic
After Carl dismisses the girls, Natasha shoves past me with a glare.
“Is everything good?” I ask Samantha.
“As good as it can be, but expect some drama.”
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her, feeling annoyed that Natasha wouldn’t want the same goodwill extended to her, also given to Samantha.
I bring her to an empty bunk on the lower level that’s right above Kilo’s. I don’t like that she’ll have to climb to get in, and I make a mental note to talk with Kilo about it.
Jacek comes downstairs, half-naked and stretching. A sliver of hostility rises in my chest at him being so immodestly dressed in front of Samantha, and I wonder how Slay manages to suppress such feelings.
His eyes travel from Samantha’s crown to her shoed feet.
“Well, hello there,” he says, licking his lips like he’s eyeing a damn donut. “Did you come early before the show to get a sneak peek?”
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl.
Jacek scowls. “We’re not taking on another stray, are we?”
“Meow, meow,” Samantha says with a waggle of her brow.
“Jesus Christ, this is going to be torture,” Jacek huffs as he walks toward the exit.
“It’s a couple of hours before go-time, so the bus will soon be cleared, for the most part.”
“Will you be performing tonight?” she asks.
“Most every night.”
