12
Claudia
THWACK.
Plaster rains down on me as the sledgehammer connects with the wall. The drywall caves in, leaving a fist-sized hole.
Adrenaline courses through my body as I swing again. It feels good to smash shit. Better this wall than three stupid boy faces. I can’t believe they’re having an emo moment about me marrying Gabriel and a baby that doesn’t evenexist.
And what’s the big deal for Gabe, anyway? Hewantsto marry me. He said so literally the day before. As if I don’t have enough to deal with, I’ve now got to add three fragile male egos into the mix.
I yell as I bring the sledgehammer over my head and pummel the wall again, and again, until the drywall is sagging and riddled with holes and cracks. I drop the sledgehammer and George hands me a crowbar, which I use to tear out the remaining drywall.
I’ve had plenty of practice in my rage room. But today, I’m not just venting my frustration on a perfectly innocent wall. We’re looking for the secrets hiding behind it and—
“Argh!” I cry as a stream of water hits me in the face, sending me reeling. George leans in to look. She’s blasted backward as a second leak tears through the wall, spraying filthy, stinking water all over the basement. And me.
George flails her arms as she tries to stand on the slippery tiles. “I was sure there would be a compartment behind that wall.”
“There is,” I yell as I try to beat my way out of the stream of water. “For pipes and shit. But no treasure.”
George crawls across the basement floor toward me. She grabs me under the shoulders and together we stagger over to the steps. We climb, squeezing water out of our soaking clothes, and collapse in a heap in the hallway.
“Shall I call a plumber?” George asks.
“I’ll take care of it.” Yara appears from out of nowhere. “I took a course on plumbing as part of my degree. I bet I can patch up whatever mess you’ve made.”
“I don’t know what we even need boys for,” I grumble to George as we drag our sodden asses down the hall. Yara heads off to the garage to find some tools, whistling under her breath.
“You don’t mean that.” George looks terrified.
“They’re acting like babies.”
“They’re acting like three guys madly in love with you who are trying to sort out their shit,” George says. She trembles a little as she shoves open the ballroom door. I’m not sure if it’s the freezing water dripping from her clothes or the fact that this is the first time she’s ever contradicted me. “Gabriel is trying to banish his demons for you. He wants to prove that he’s worthy of your love. And you saying you’d marry him just like that…” she snaps her fingers. “It made him feel like you don’t care. And…”
She freezes. I glare at her. “Out with it, Fisher.”
George looks away. “And I’ve heard them talking about you, late at night, when you’re holed up in your office. Talking about the future. About marriage and babies and college and shit.”
My heart thuds against my chest. “What did they say?”
“I think you should ask them yourself.”
George shoves me forward. I stumble over the threshold into the ballroom, expecting her to follow. Instead, she slams the door on me.
Traitor.
I swipe a stand of matted hair from my eye and find myself staring into four sets of eyes – my three princes draped over my sofas, and the wide sapphire blue orbs of Casper the tiger, who darts around Queen Boudica’s cat castle like he owns it.
Gabe grins at me and makes a comment about a wet t-shirt contest, and Noah threatens him with evisceration. They’re all behaving perfectly normal, as if that fight we had at lunch never happened.
But I know it happened.
And we’re dealing with this shitright now.
“So, I hear you’ve been discussing our future without me.” I yank off my damp t-shirt and reach for Gabe’s big, cozy Octavia’s Ruin hoodie. As soon as I tug it over my head, his pagan scent slams into me.
My breath stutters.
