All Ben does is fucking nod.
It hits harder than anything Raymond could’ve said.
Which is exactly what Raymond wanted.
To prove, not only can he control me,
he can control my Boys too.
Raymond raises his whiskey,
mouth breaking into a smug grin.
“You’re supposed to be heir to Soundwave,
“not the entertainment.”
I sit there, paralyzed,
rage simmering low in my chest.
Raymond strolls off
like he didn’t stomp on the center of my chest.
I turn back to Ben. “A fucking nod?” I snap.
He lifts a shoulder and leans in.
“Jesus, Baby. What do you expect me to do?
“Want me throwin’ hands with your stepdaddy at the Thanksgiving Gala?”
A sharp breath cuts out of me.
I shove my chair back so fast
it almost tips over.
The room turns suffocating?—
noise crowding my ears,
heat sticking to my skin,
Raymond’s voice still echoing,
Ben’s nod still nodding.
Not enough oxygen.
I snatch my drink off the table.
I need air.
I need space.
I need?—
