Page 185 of Damsel in Disguise

“Doing what?”

“That,” he points at my face.

“Being happy?”

“That creepy smiley face.”

Unfortunately for him, that only makes the smile wider.

“Why are you always smiling? It’s fucking creepy, you know that?”

“Just because you see a smile doesn’t mean you have the slightest idea of what’s happening inside my head,” I reply, keeping that smile intact.

His expression immediately crumples.

“Yeah. No,” his gaze flicks across my face as if searching for hidden warning labels. “I definitely don’t like you.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I say pleasantly. “I was moments away from basing my entire self-worth on your approval.”

Adrian snorts.

Asher glares at him.

“Are you seriously gonna stand there while this freak insults me at my own sister’s apartment?”

“Considering you’ve known him for less than five minutes and he’s already gotten under your skin,” Adrian glances at me before returning to Asher. “I’d say you’re doing most of the work yourself,” he says dryly.

I smile back.

Finding an excuse, I glance over at the wall clock. Right on cue.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, already staling toward the door, “Some important matters demand my attention.”

Neither looks convinced.

Ignoring them entirely, I slip my shoes back on—the same shoes I’d discarded by the entrance in an Ariella-induced haze—and head outside.

I don’t particularly care that I’m still shirtless or looking like I’ve just crawled out of a porno or more interestingly, fucked their sister dearest.

53. HOME

ariella

If there is one thing worse than being interrogated by one Keinston man, it’s being interrogated by two of them at the same time.

Unfortunately for me, that’s exactly what’s happening at the worst possible time.

“Asher,” I say patiently, lowering my mug of hot chocolate onto the coffee table, “you’ve asked me the same question six times by now.”

Finally, I’m properly dressed and no longer running into my brothers wearing nothing but a bed sheet. It was awful.

The moment I sprinted back into the bathroom, mortification hit me like a trainwreck. Not because of the sex itself but because of the evidence of it.

The bruises decorating my throat. The bite marks scattered across my skin. The fingerprints stamped into my body. Every single mark Alistair left behind for the whole world to see—or in this case, my brothers.

I was so embarrassed I briefly considered climbing out the bathroom window and starting a new life somewhere remote.

Instead, I cleaned myself up and came back out only to find Alistair already gone.