Page 118 of A Vicious Love

The way she had kissed me back in the rear seat of my car, and trusting enough to make my whole body tighten every time memory dragged me there without permission.

Her fingers in my hair.

Her mouth opening beneath mine.

Her body settling over my lap as if she had been built for it. The way her pussy clenched around my fingers.

Fuck.

I took another drink.

“Jamison.” Sienna looked at me. Her steps slowed by half a second. Formal again. The name landed wrong.

“Sienna.”

Her eyes lowered.

I hated that too.

Marcel did not spare either of us a glance. His entire focus had gone to Emmie, reading her face before she reached him.

“Come to Daddy’s lap,” he said.

Daddy was normal in Crow houses. As ordinary as husband. Still revolting when they came from Marcel because Marcel said them with complete sincerity, like Emmie’s body belonged exactly where he asked for it.

She went to him.

He sat on the deep cream sofa and drew her onto his lap, one arm wrapping around her waist. Emmie settled into his chest. His fingers immediately lifted to the rose-gold collar at her throat.

Of course they did.

Thumb against the edge.

Then the clasp.

Then the smooth front again.

Addiction.

I looked away.

Harrison watched the movement, then glanced at me.

“Your future,” he murmured.

“I’ll choose the bullet.”

Sienna heard. Her face changed slightly before she turned toward the terrace windows. Fuck. I had meant the house, and Marcel’s emotional collapse. Not— It did not matter what I meant. Sienna had learned to hear herself in every cruel sentence I spoke.

That was my fault too, apparently.

Emmie looked around from Marcel’s lap.

“Sienna’s driver is waiting outside,” Emmie said.

Sienna turned toward her. “I can stay.”

“No, sweetheart.” Emmie touched the collar at her throat where Marcel’s fingers still rested. “You have rehearsal tomorrow.”