Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
ASHER
I wait until their laughter and footsteps disappear, turning to Daniel with a nod.
He pushes to his feet, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and excusing himself.
The muscles in my neck tighten. I crack my head to the side, swirling whiskey around in my glass.
“You good?” Atlas asks, swinging back on his chair.
I clench my teeth.
“Hey.” Camille places her hand on my arm, something she’s been able to do all night, but this time my head snaps to her.
She winces, removing it, and I go back to sipping my drink.
“Asher, I think—”
“—I think,” I cut Aléia off before she gets too comfortable having an opinion. “You need to shut the fuck up and not say a goddamn word before I send you back to your husband in pieces.”
Aléia’s mouth falls open, but her cheeks flush a deep, angry red. She hates it. Hates that she can’t play doctor on me anymore.
Nobody moves.
Candlelight catches the rims of the glasses across the table, showing every bit of rage on Aléia’s face.
She wants to slap me. She knows better.
I lean back, the whiskey warm in my hand, and let the silence stretch until everyone’s nerves start to fray.
Atlas taps his thumb once against the stem of his glass, going still when I look at him.
Mother stays quiet, her eyes fixed on Aléia as she waits to see if this gets ugly enough for her to step in.
My mind keeps moving, running through the night in broken pieces.
I set my glass down as Aléia pushes her chair back. If she thinks I’m gonna let her take over and bitch about tonight, she’s making another mistake.
Her shoulders pull straight, her chin lifting. “Asher.”
She wears that same polished concern whenever she plans to interfere and call it care. It worked better when I was younger, before I learned the price you pay each time someone claims they’re protecting you.
Bracing one hand on the table, she looks at me. “I won’t be spoken to like this.”
My mouth twitches.
The vein in her forehead is about one smart ass response away from exploding.
“You’re out of control!” She gasps. I’d laugh if I could be fucked.
I hold her stare. “You have no idea.”
There’s a battle that stirs within her, her mouth opening and closing as she weighs up her options. She knows better than to go toe-to-toe with me.
“Here’s what’s going to happen from now.” My tone stays level, borderline bored. “You’re going to leave this house, and trust that I’m doing what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”
Camille sucks in a deep breath, her spine snapping straight. “Ash—”
I lift my hand to stop her from making an even bigger fool of herself than she already has. Ivy is fucking smart, more than that, she’s street smart. Camille’s antics tonight would have been nothing more than entertainment to her.
Aléia stares back at me like I’ve spoken a different language. What the fuck is she thinking? That I’ll change my mind? I won’t. She’s lucky I’m letting her walk out of here at all.
She turns her back to me and storms toward the exit.
Guess that’s her answer.
Camille rushes after her, no doubt to attempt to calm her down. With good reason. Most people who know Aléia spend a great deal of time not upsetting her.
With just Atlas, Mom, Sinead and me left, I relax into my chair and let my eyes move over each of them one by one.
“This? It’s got a shelf life. And that shit’s expiring a lot sooner than any of you fuckers think. So stay in line.”