I head into the kitchen for plates and the beginning of what I am sure will be a long afternoon.
***
My sisters are invariably a pain in my ass.
They live to torment me, so I know they’re dragging out the afternoon as I make several meaningful glances toward the front door.
The girls finally slow down when there’s nothing but empty cake boxes on every level surface and a litter of dirty plates. I suspect that the smear on my $43,000 Albireo sofa is dark chocolate cream from an eclair that Eilidh was gobbling, groaning with happiness.
“Oh, I had no idea it was so late!” Arabella gets up, collecting plates and silverware industriously.
“We’ve got this,” I say, taking the plates from her.
Afton stands next to me as we say goodnight to everyone, and when Luna reaches out to hug her, she accepts the embrace happily.
I shut the door. Locking it.
***
Lady petrol - Scottish slang for wine.
Chapter Nineteen
In which Afton really lets Mason have it. Which he deserves.
Mason…
“Well, I’ll just clean up-”
Afton tries to sidestep me and I press her back against the door, her soft breasts crushed against my abdomen.
“We’re going to talk,” I say, pressing harder, letting her feel my stonner.
“But, the living room is filthy! This must be killing you.” She won’t look up at me.
“You’re warm one moment,” I plow on. “Then hurt and pulling away the next. Something happened between the first time we had sex and-”
“And did our duty for the family.” She presses her lips together tightly, like she didn’t intend to say that.
My hand cups her throat, stroking up and down as I consider this.
Duty to the family.
Ah, fuck. Of course.
“You overheard me that night,” I say, squeezing just a bit harder, liking the look of my scarred fingers against her pale skin.
“It doesn’t matter what I heard. We got married. We consummated the marriage. There’s no need for the grandstandmoments like lunch on the yacht. Besides,” she says bitterly, “isn’t it about time to ‘pack me off to one of your houses?’ You’ve already fulfilled step three, introducing me to the cousins to ‘keep me busy.’”
It pours out of her, the hurt, the disillusionment, everything she's kept bottled up since she overheard me. I’ve observed by now that Afton is not one for confrontation, she keeps it inside, swallows it. No doubt a survival technique created while growing up with her bastard of a father.
“This is good.”
“What?”she snaps.
“It’s good that you’re telling me,” I clarify.
“How does that change how you see me? Or change what you’d planned to do to me the entire time when you were being so sweet and considerate? I knew you were cold-hearted, no surprise there, but you just… seduced me while you were setting up your timeline ofhandlingme.
