Ansel turns to whisper in my ear. “I think Wylder is doing this on purpose.”
I let out a small laugh. “Iknowhe is.”
Wylder holds up the iron between his fingers. “The bid starts at one thousand dollars.”
Ansel gasps, and I let out a gleeful laugh. Oh, this is going to be good. Someone’s going to lose a limb. So much for not showing Ansel all of our violent tendencies. Maybe I should’ve waited another week or two before taking him to game night.
Meh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. All siblings fight. Okay, so maybe they don’t fight with actual weapons, but where’s the fun in that?
Before anyone can offer up the money, Harley launches across the table and snatches the iron from Wylder’s hand.
Samson lets out a feral growl and lunges, but before he can even reach our brother, Harley has shoved the token into his mouth.
“I’m going to fucking murder you,” Samson barks, tackling Harley against the wall once more and squeezing his cheeks tightly. “Spit it out or I’ll slit your throat.”
Wylder sighs. “Do not get blood on the carpet again, or I will murder you all.”
Harley swallows and opens his mouth, showing Samson the empty orifice.
Ansel sucks in a breath. “Did he just…”
“Did you just swallow the iron?” Samson asks, his voice low and dangerous.
Harley has never looked smugger than he does in this moment. “Yep, and now the only way you’re going to get it back is after I shit it out.”
Dalton chuckles, and so do I. Samson is going to go nuclear over this. He loves that fucking iron. Would marry it if he could.
He steps back, staring at Harley with a slightly maniacal smile. It’s not one he breaks out often, just when he’s truly about to lose it.
Sure enough, Samson cocks his fist back and smashes it into Harley’s jaw. The crack is heard around the room, and Ansel jumps at the sound. None of us are bothered though. We’re busy listening to Wylder, who is auctioning off the rest of the tokens.
I stroke Ansel’s back and kiss his cheek, reassuring him that there’s nothing to worry about. This is just life with the Buckinghams. “Which one do you want, my love?”
Ansel worries at his lip. “Um, the thimble.”
“I’ll make sure you get it. Or die trying.”
Ansel’s eyes widen in alarm. “Please don’t. I rather like you alive.”
I grin and kiss him once more, his mouth so fucking irresistible. “Well, I won’t die, because I’m better than everyone here, so don’t worry your pretty little face. You just focus on winning tonight, and if you beat Dalton, I’ll give you the best surprise.”
His eyes light up. “What kind of surprise?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Dalton must hear me, because he cocks an eyebrow at me, as if to say that no one ever beats him, but I think my little butterfly can. I think he will. He’s nothing if not determined.
“I can’t believe it,” Ansel gasps, slightly in shock. It’s two in the morning; the Monopoly game ran well into the night. Everyone is tired and grumpy, on their last leg. But not me.
Because Ansel fucking won.
He won.
I turn my gaze to Dalton, who is rolling his lips between his teeth, Jackson whispering something in his ear. He looks slightly defeated. As he should.
My butterfly went head-to-head with a giant and beat his ass, and he’s not even rumpled. He looks positively beautiful, radiant even.
“You did it,” I reply.
