“Just accept it, Brett. If I get out of this in one piece—”
“When.”
“When,” I amend. “I get out of this in one piece, you are buying me my first drink after I drop this baby.”
Brett snorts his disbelief. “Mr. Wonderful is not going to let a single man anywhere near the mother of his child.”
I tip my chin defiantly. “Well, it’s not up to him. I am my own person. Besides, if he is as wonderful as I think he is, he will not be prone to irrational jealousy.”
“Touché.”
I move to get out of the car but pause and turn to Brett. “Oh, and if we’re having a drink, that means my life isn’t a complete mess anymore. I plan to get in your business.” I smile at his grimace. “You’ve been warned.”
Weston
I’mbored as shit as usual. I have to play nice with the old man if I want to continue to get the stipend of my trust fund.
Controlling bastard.
I fiddle with my champagne flute and keep my fake smile on my face. We are celebrating one of my dad’s political wins of proposition blah, blah, blah. I don’t give a fuck, therefore, I’m not listening. I can think of a hundred places I’d rather be than stuck at “family” dinner with these fossils. I glance at my once beautiful mother and withhold a flinch. She looks a mess. All of her “tweaks” have her looking like a fucked up Barbie with too-tight skin, too big lips, and too blonde hair.
I suppress a sigh when her decrepit hand flies to her chest. Why put all that effort into your face when the rest of your body tells your age? I frown at the orange tinge of her skin.
“You better not be tanning,” I whisper harshly with a fake smile.
Just because I despise her lack of a backbone and her lack of attention to me as a child, doesn’t mean I want the old bag to die from cancer. It doesn’t matter, she seems to be ignoring me as usual. She’s too busy staring at something behind my head; I sit up straighter when I notice she looks like she’s seen a ghost. I follow her line of vision and am surprised to see Celeste marching our way. I never allowed her to come to family dinner. I’m not sure why the bitch thinks it’s okay now. I drop my fork when I realize how hard I’m squeezing it.
My brain rages and my dick stirs. I’m pissed she didn’t die. I’d been waiting patiently to identify her body. I guess I won’t get the chance, yet. I’m enraged by the sight of her. She looks damn good. No, she looks better than good. I’ve always been a sucker for her body and her pussy is the best. I’ll never tell her. I’d fucked other women just to keep her humble, but hers is the best. Now, I’m torn between wanting to kill and fuck her.
She’s almost to our table, and I hope she’s here to beg. I’ll take her back and maybe I won’t kill her immediately. I’ll wait, fuck her until it’s out of my system then kill her. I tilt my head and study her longer. She straightened her hair; she’s never done that before. Her dress looks designer, and her shoes are expensive. Who in the fuck bought her clothes? Her parents aren’t rich, and she hasn’t gotten a dime from me. I gulp my drink. She better not be fucking someone else. I’ll kill her instantly. I’ll hold her down, bury myself in her sweet pussy, and choke the life out of her. I’d probably cum hard watching the light slip out of those beautiful eyes. Yes. That’s my new plan. She glances over her shoulder and a uniformed police officer smiles at her with a nod. I’ll get him fired.
Celeste pulls out the chair next to me and sits her fine ass down. She smells delicious. She plops a folder on the table. She’s in the middle of an intense stare-down with my dad as my focus moves to her naked, smooth thigh. I wonder if it is as soft as I remember. Her focus shifts to me when I grab her thigh. Her hazel eyes flash with anger as she pushes my hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses at me, pissing me off immediately.
“Bit—“
“Wessy, darling, we are at the country club,” my mom sing-songs.
I shoot Celeste a warning look, letting her know it’s not over.
“What in the hell are you doing here, and why do you think you have the right to sit at our table?” my dad growls with a fake smile plastered to his face for the onlookers.
We all stare at her when she snorts like what my dad said is beneath her.
“The last thing I want to do is sit at your stupid table and look at any of you. Never flatter yourself like that again.”
* * *
Celeste
Wes wants to hit me. I can tell by the look on his face. I don’t care. I just want the papers signed. I planned to come in with finesse but seeing them and my new set of hormones have me livid. I hate all three of them. Wes tries to discreetly squeeze my arm, one of his control-tactics he used to use the few times we were in public. I yank my arm away and glare at him.
“Don’t touch me again, Wes. Keep your hands to yourself.”
I stare at him as he turns three different shades of red. He’s furious; I’ve only ever seen the look on his face right before getting a black eye. With this public location, and my friends in sight, I silently dare him to hit me.
“You better behave, Celeste,” he growls the warning at me.
