Unhinged Love (Wicked Falls Elite #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

Carter

I hate a lot of things, but what makes me grind my teeth the hardest is hypocrisy. People who smile to your face but wish they could stick a knife in your back. I would always rather know the truth about how somebody feels about me, and I hate pretending to like anyone I can’t stand. It’s a waste of time.

So why am I sitting here, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace?

Oh, right. Because this is the first so-called family dinner with my new stepmother and her daughter.

Correction: my new gold-digger stepmother and her gold-digger freak of a daughter.

Before now, I would never have called my dad stupid. He’s the chief of police, for one thing—not a position a stupid man could handle as successfully as he has. He’s got a talent for seeing through people that makes him a real pain in the ass to anybody on the wrong side of the law. It’s something I have always admired about him, even if I don’t usually admit shit like that. Not out loud.

So why the fuck can he not see through the woman sitting across from him, laughing at his lame jokes like they’re the funniest thing she’s ever heard? “You are too much,” she coos, batting her fake eyelashes.

Fake like her Botoxed face. Fake like her hair extensions, and her enormous cantaloupe tits. I don’t think a single thing about her is real, including her so-called feelings about Dad. The second I met her, I knew what she was in this for. She lives an expensive kind of lifestyle, and she needs a man who can support that.

How is he so blind? How can he look at her with love shining in his eyes? The dumb son of a bitch thinks she actually loves him.

If I thought he would listen, I would sit him down and tell him what he needs to hear.

But that’s the thing—he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t want to. And I would end up being the bad guy who doesn’t want his dad to be happy.

I do want that, I guess.

Why the fuck does it have to be with her?

“What do you think is taking Elliana so long?” Dad asks, looking toward the arched doorway that gives us a view of the hall. “I would hate for the food to get cold.”

Another thing he can’t see—the way his supposedly loving wife’s eyes go from wide and innocent to cold and hard the second her daughter is mentioned. “I’m sure she’ll be down any second. It’s been a big day, moving everything in.”

Dad gives her an indulgent smile. “It’s been a great day. Finally, this house can be full of life.”

What? Did I fill it with death? What the fuck?

He has no idea how stupid he sounds. He can’t possibly.

Because if he did, he would staple his own mouth shut before turning to me and coming up with something even stupider. “Carter, why don’t you go up and see if your sister needs help?”

My sister? I don’t have a sister. I’m an only fucking child. Why does he have to go overboard? He has no idea how pathetic all of this is.

Irene’s smile goes tight until it’s about as sincere as the smile Dad told me to wear tonight so my new stepmother and stepsister would feel comfortable. “Carter doesn’t need to do that,” she murmurs, batting her eyelashes at me. She better be careful—one of them might fall off onto her plate if she doesn’t stop. “If Elliana cannot be on time for dinner, she will eat cold food alone at the table. I’m not going to spoil her now.”

Well, at least we agree on something.

We shouldn’t have to sit around and wait for that weird, awkward girl who barely looked at me today when she got to the house and didn’t say a word, even when Irene tried to prompt her.

Dad laughed it off—later, I heard him murmuring something to Irene about Elliana needing a little time to adjust, telling her she has all the time in the world.

This whole thing is one big joke.

“Then I guess we’ll dig in.” Dad leans over to cut a piece of lasagna from a large pan. Really, it probably doesn’t matter that we’ve waited so long—there’s still steam billowing up from it when he plates his piece, and adds sides from various cut-glass bowls arranged in the center of the table along with a huge bouquet of white roses and candles that offer flickering light.

Irene heaps salad onto her plate and barely tips the bottle of dressing to get a few drops out before setting it back in place. “I have to watch my figure if I’m going to fit into my dress, of course.” She giggles.

Why? Because it’s not bad enough that you eloped after only a few dates?

According to Dad, she deserves a big wedding—the wedding of her dreams—meaning we have to play out this embarrassing joke in front of half the town.

I’m in the middle of cutting off a square of lasagna when quick, light footsteps ring out in the hall. “Here she is,” Dad announces, wearing a broad smile that makes me feel sorry for him.

The dumb bastard.

When Elliana scurries into the room, it’s almost enough to make me lose my appetite. There I was, thinking the sloppy, shapeless clothes she wore earlier had to do with her being comfortable during the move.

Now she’s changed into something different, but still just as lumpy and oversized, with long sleeves that cover her hands. It’s eighty degrees outside, and she’s wearing a long-sleeve sweater.

That’s not the worst part. I wish I could keep myself from studying her like she’s a subject in school, but I can’t help myself. Everything I see makes me want to find something else to hate.

She wears huge glasses with thick, black frames that are way too big for her face and keep sliding down her button nose. She shoves them up over her brown eyes, which only look bigger behind her lenses. Like they’re going to swallow up her face.

Her brown hair hangs limp past her shoulder blades. Could she at least try to do something with it? Does she even bother to brush it?

“Sorry.” She barely mumbles it as she rushes into the room with her head down, shoulders up around her ears like she’s waiting for an attack, before dropping into the chair across from mine without another word. Without looking at any of us.

“I’m afraid you’re not making a very good first impression on your new family,” Irene tells her. There’s lightness in her voice, yeah, but there’s a vein of anger running underneath it.

Good. Not that I like Irene. Not that I want her here. But she needs to shake a little sense into her stuck-up daughter.

No big surprise that Dad would try to swoop in and defend her. “Now, now,” he murmurs, chuckling warmly. The generous host. The happy family man who’s finally getting laid on the regular by a woman whose pussy must be lined with gold if he’s willing to put up with her. “I’m sure Elliana is tired after such a long day. And we don’t normally adhere to a strict dinnertime around here anyway,” he tells her, winking like they’re in on the same joke now.

There is definitely a joke going on around here, but it’s not very funny.

And what does the stuck-up little bitch do? She barely bothers to look at him before muttering, “Thank you, but I should’ve been on time.”

“Do you like your room?” I can’t help but stare at her from across the table and challenge her to say something—anything. She wants to play games? She wants to pretend I’m not here? She’s going to find out pretty quick that’s not how it works. “I hope it’s big enough for you.”

After a few silent moments pass, Irene clears her throat loudly. “Your brother is talking to you.”

I want to correct her and tell her that Elliana’s brother is not talking to her—because I am not her brother—but it’s actually more fun to sit here and watch the mousy little thing squirm.

“I just want to make sure she has everything she needs,” I continue, staring daggers at her but doing everything I can to hide it. At least from the adults, who can’t stop giving each other sex eyes long enough to pay attention.

I might as well not be here. Instead of responding the way any normal, decent person would, she only lifts a shoulder under that stupid sweater before using the spatula to cut off a big slab of lasagna. It’s almost as big as mine, and I filled my plate.

“Don’t forget, you need to look good as my Maid of Honor.” Irene’s wide smile goes brittle as she stares at her daughter, who shrinks down even further. I didn’t think it was possible. She’s practically under the table.

“Oh, please.” Dad chuckles. “I wish I still had that youthful metabolism. I used to be able to eat anything and everything in front of me, and I never gained an ounce. Those were the days…”

“You humble braggart.” Irene giggles. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you and Carter are brothers.”

They’re both too busy laughing to notice what I do. Elliana rolls her eyes at her plate and lets out a soft sigh before cutting into her lasagna, taking half and pushing it to one side of her plate, then taking a bite of what’s left.

Whatever. She shouldn’t have been so greedy, anyway.

“You know what I can’t wait for?” Dad practically bats his own eyelashes the way Irene does. “Holidays. I can’t wait to celebrate our first holiday as one big family. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real family celebration.”

Okay, did I cease to exist or something? My hands tighten around the knife and fork I’m holding, and I let out a deep breath through my flared nostrils. The last thing I want to do is start a fight in front of this gold-digging bitch and her freak daughter, so I force myself to stay quiet.

What a shame that he was so fucking miserable all these years when it was just the two of us. I had no idea.

“It’s going to be so wonderful,” Irene gushes. “I’ve always dreamed of the same thing. Haven’t I, sweetheart?”

She turns to her daughter, who has yet to look up from her plate as she shovels food in like it’s her last meal. There’s a sharp movement under the table, and Elliana jolts a little. Did she get kicked? Irene only tosses her bleached waves over her shoulder, pouting her inflated lips.

“Sure,” Elliana mutters and bobs her head. “You always wanted to have big holidays.”

Yeah, and she couldn’t afford them, so she had to marry somebody who could.

This is a complete joke, but the worst part is how deliriously happy Dad looks. He’s making a fool out of himself. He’s a fucking cliché. The guy who is too blinded by pussy and a big pair of tits to see what’s happening in front of him.

This woman does not love him. She’s using him, not just for money but for status. She’s gone from living in a rental duplex to moving herself and the bug-eyed little freak across from me into a big, comfortable house with enormous rooms, a pool in the back, and anything anyone could want.

I’m supposed to sit here and play nice? We’re supposed to pretend to be one big, happy family? It’s almost enough to make me choke on my food. I don’t want any part of this.

It feels like forever before we’re all scraping our plates. Thank fuck. I can’t wait to get away from this table. The air in here is so thick I can barely breathe. There’s too much going on under the surface. The way Irene keeps staring at Elliana, who won’t look up from her plate. The way Dad keeps joking around, trying to keep the mood light.

I almost want to tell him he’s part of the reason everything is so tense. He’s trying too hard. It’s too obvious. He’s only making it worse.

At least it’s over. When I push my chair back from the table, ready to take my plate into the kitchen, I’m hit with a rude awakening.

“Where are you going?” Dad asks, narrowing the dark blue eyes that are so much like mine. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”

Fucking hell. “Since when do we have dessert together right after dinner?” I ask.

“Since we now have Irene and Elliana with us, and it’s important to eat together as a family.”

Isn’t it nice that he cares so much about this family shit now? Not that he’s ever been a bad father or anything, but we’ve never really been the dessert right after dinner kind of people. Most of the time, we never even have it. It’s like everything has to have this big, hollow ceremony around it now. Who has time for that?

“Here, let me take that for you.” Irene smiles down at Elliana, who only sits back in her chair to give her mom room to take her half-empty plate. She never did eat the rest of that lasagna.

“Eyes bigger than your stomach?” Dad asks with a chuckle. Fuck, he is so oblivious. I almost want to laugh.

Elliana murmurs something I can’t hear, staring down at the table while Dad and Irene giggle their way into the kitchen like a couple of lovesick teenagers. They’ll probably make out in there. It’s almost enough to make me wish I hadn’t eaten so much since it wants to come right back up again.

Now we’re alone. The two of us.

Lucky me.

I fold my arms, staring at her, daring her to look my way.

Who does she think she is? Sitting there with that tight jaw like she’s pissed off at the world? She hit the fucking jackpot—big house, respected stepfather, all the money she has probably ever wished she could get her greedy little hands on. And still, she sits there with a fucking chip on her shoulder like it’s her life that’s been turned upside down by this sham.

That’s exactly what it is. One big sham.

“You don’t get to be a gold digger and be rude at the same time.”

She doesn’t react to my muttered comment. It’s like I never said a word. All her reaction does is up my need to get to her.

“What, your mom was so busy looking for a rich guy to support her that she didn’t bother teaching you manners?” Except for the tiny shudder that moves through her, she still doesn’t react.

But that got her, at least a little. I know it did. “I’m fucking talking to you.” Grabbing a dinner roll from the basket between us, I hurl it straight at her head and watch it bounce off before hitting the floor.

That got her.

Her head snaps up, and I am almost salivating over the tears I know I’m going to see behind those ugly glasses.

Only there are no tears. There is nothing but cold, hard hatred, only magnified by her lenses. I’m so surprised I almost swallow my tongue.

Where does she get off looking pissed? Who does she think she is? I would ask, but Dad and Irene come back too soon. They both hold two small plates, each with a slice of cake. I’m surprised Irene will even let Elliana have one, but it’s pretty thin.

“A night like this calls for a little celebration,” Dad announces, turning my stomach. “And just think—in only a few weeks, we’ll be cutting into a much bigger cake in front of all our family and friends.”

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. The poor bastard. He’s even looking forward to his public humiliation.

It’s not his humiliation I care about right now. It’s the humiliation of the cold little bitch across from me, who has gone back to staring down at her plate, barely picking at her cake. She has everything she could ever want, but she can’t be bothered to be grateful.

It looks like she needs a lesson in gratitude. Not to mention instruction in good manners.

It just so happens I have nothing better to do than teach her.