12. Remi
twelve
Remi
Istood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor while Rio was still sitting and watching me.
“What the fuck,” I said.
“You want to have this conversation here, or you want to take it somewhere they can’t hear you scream at me?”
“I want to have this conversation right fucking now.”
He stood and walked past me into the living room, and I followed with my hands shaking.
He turned to face me, and the fact that he was so damn calm about this made my blood boil.
“How long did you know?” I demanded.
“Since before I took you to dinner.”
“And you still,” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. “You still took me out and fucked me. You knew the whole time?”
“Every second of it.” He smirked.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Dead serious.”
I stared at him, my chest heaving. “You’re sick. You know that? You’re fucking sick.”
“I’ve been made aware.”
I wanted to hit him and I wanted to scream; I just didn’t know what to do first. “How did you even find out?”
“Followed you from the café. You really should check your mirrors when you drive.”
“You followed me?”
“Of course.”
“Jesus Christ.” I pressed my hands to my face. “This is insane. This is fucking insane.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing you came home with me anyway.” He tilted his head, studying me. “You didn’t seem to think it was insane last night.”
“I didn’t fucking know last night.”
“And if you had?”
I started to open my mouth but then I closed it because he has a point. Would I have stopped if I knew it? We weren’t raised together and we are both adults who’d just met.
He smiled, and it wasn’t kind in the slightest. “That’s what I thought.”
“Fuck you.”
“You already did.”
I took another step toward him, my fists clenched. “You think this is funny?”
“No. I know it’s fucked up, but I also think you’re standing here screaming at me because you’re pissed, I didn’t tell you, not because you regret what happened. There’s a difference.”
“I regret everything about you.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, baby.”
“Go to hell.”
“Already there, sweetheart.”
“So, what was the plan? Move in here and act like nothing happened?”
He was quiet for a second. Then, right on schedule, pissed me off again.
“No. I already know everything about you.”
I stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“RemiRose.”
“What?”
“RemiRose,” he repeated. “That’s you, right?”
I couldn’t breathe. “How do you–”
“I’ve been watching you for six weeks.”
“You’ve been… what?”
“Watching you, your videos, your streams. All of it.”
“You’re lying.”
“I would never.” There’s that damn smirk again.
I think what makes me the maddest is the fact that… he’s still hot. Given this entire fucked up family situation, that stupid smirk does something to me.
I shook my head, backing up a step. “No. No, there’s no way you–”
“The pink lingerie set,” he said, and his voice was low, like he didn’t want our parents to have a chance to hear.
“The one you wore in the video you posted three weeks ago. You were on your knees, and you had that little vibrator, the one you like to tease yourself with before you use it and then you came twice. Once at the eight-minute mark, and again at the end when you finally let yourself have it.”
I felt like I was going to be sick.
“You looked so fucking good,” he continued, and there was nothing but darkness in his eyes now. “The second one was my favorite. You were shaking and you couldn’t even hold the camera steady.”
“Stop.”
“Or the shower video. The one where you’re touching yourself against the glass. You kept saying you were close, but you wouldn’t let yourself finish like you needed someone to tell you to. You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do.”
“Stop talking.”
“I’ve seen all of it, Remi. Every video and every stream. I know what you sound like when you come, through a screen and now in my arms. I know what you look like when you’re desperate, and now I know what you feel like.”
I couldn’t move.
“You’re sick,” I whispered.
“Then why aren’t you running? Am I sick, or are you sick? Because a woman who was truly disturbed by this wouldn’t still be in the same room as me.”
“You’ve been watching me this whole time. You’ve been in my fucking lobbies. You’ve been,” I stopped, my brain catching up. “Oh my God.”
“You’re actually good,” he said. “Better than you think. I kept coming back to your lobbies because you made it interesting and not many people do.”
“Fuck you.”
He took a step toward me, and I held my ground even though every instinct told me to run. “You can be as pissed as you want,” he said as his mouth grazed my ear. “But we both know you’re not walking away from this.”
“Watch me.”
“Go ahead.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll be here when you change your mind.”
“You’re a psycho.”
“Undeniable.” He shrugged.
I stared at him with my chest tight and my hands shaking. I wanted to scream, or cry, or grab him and make him take it all back.
But he just stood there like he couldn’t be bothered with my mental breakdown.
“I hate you,” I said.
“You want to, but that’s not the same thing.”
“Uh, no. I do.”
“You will,” he said. “But not yet.”
I turned and ran toward the stairs. I didn’t look back or turn to say anything else, and he actually let me go.
I could feel his eyes on my back the whole way up the stairs. I slammed my bedroom door behind me and locked it, then stood there with my back against the wood.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket.
You looked good at dinner, little sis.
I threw the phone across the room.