“Of course not, but—”
“You realize it’s rape, right?”
Ares and Josh stop, both shocked. “What?”
“That’s what I said too. But Fiona pointed it out to me. If Mom tries to force me to have sex with women I don’t want, and especially if she uses drugs, it’s rape. Like date rape. I’m not consenting, right?” I rub my face, weary. “We’re so fucked up that we don’t even recognize some of what she does as abuse. We’re just so worried about her doing something worse. In some messed-up way, I guess being drugged and forced to be an insemination machine is better than being kidnapped or left to die in a fire.”
Ares’s expression shifts, softening a little, but then he quicklyjuts his chin. “All right, fair point. Still, I’m not on board with you marrying Fiona.”
“Neither am I.” Josh’s voice lacks its earlier heat, but his brow is still knitted. “What if she betrays you again?”
“I doubt she’ll side with Mom. She didn’t make the best impression.”
Josh scoffs. “It isn’t like Jude was known as Mr. Charming back then either.”
“The hardest thing in dealing with people is that you can never know what they’re really thinking,” Ares says. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He gives me a pointed look. “Again.”
I nod. “I know. I appreciate it, but give her a chance, okay?”
“She never even apologized,” Josh grumbles.
“She did.”
Surprise crosses his face.
“So let’s be civil at dinner tonight.”
Ares bites back a curse. “Fine. I’ll try, but if she does anything to hurt you again, I’m going to kill her.”
“Unless I kill her first,” Josh says.
My brothers look at me like they’re expecting some reassurance that she won’t, but all I can manage is a blank smile. It dawns on me that even though she apologized, I’m never going to be certain of her unless I know what made her betray me in the first place.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fiona
As the gates to Bryce’s house magically swing open, I understand why he wanted me to take the Lamborghini. He didn’t want me stuck out here again like last night. The garage doors open on their own to let the car in as well.
But once I get to the entrance to the house, the security pad blinks red. I run the fob over it a couple of times, but it remains red. I grab my phone and text Bryce.
–Me: In the garage. How do I get into the house?
A moment later, he sends me a six-digit code. I stare at the number with surprise, uncertainty and confusion—Finley’s birthday. Is it a coincidence? Seems unlikely, but…I don’t want to give it more meaning than I should.
–Bryce: Did you get in okay?
His message pulls me out of my daze. I quickly enter the number on the smooth screen, which has a scrambled number pad. The system turns green and the door unlocks with a metallic click. I push it open and step into the nook between the living room and the kitchen.
–Me: Yes. Thank you.
–Bryce: Do you still like pepperoni pizza?
–Me: Yes. Why?
–Bryce: Because I’m going to pick one up to share.
As I look at our text exchange, it’s almost like we’re back in college. We used to split pepperoni pizzas and sip Diet Dr. Pepper when I stayed over at his place.
