Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Carter
I can’t believe it.
Here we are, the happy family, surrounded by happy so-called friends. Not friends of mine, of course. I doubt Irene has any actual friends. These are all acquaintances of Dad’s, colleagues, people he felt were important enough to join us during the rehearsal dinner.
It didn’t matter when I reminded him the rehearsal dinner is supposed to be just for people involved with the wedding. Hell, even I know that. “Irene wants to meet as many people as possible before the wedding,” he explained when I tried to be helpful. “So she won’t be at a loss during the reception when everyone inevitably comes up to wish us well.”
Pretty big-ass assumption there. Really, I’m proud of how I’ve managed to bite my tongue over and over throughout this process. No matter how much I want to point out to Dad how obvious Irene’s gold-digging is, I have kept it to myself. He wants to be happy? Let him be. Let him delude himself into thinking this is what he needs. I can only try so hard to keep him from making a total fool of himself. Besides, he is the father; he is the one who’s supposed to have the answers, not me. If anything, I resent the fact that I have to be the one to tell him what’s so blatantly obvious.
That’s just one of so many things I resent as I sit at a long table in a small banquet room at the country club where the ceremony and reception are being held tomorrow. It’s not enough that I have to sit here and watch Elliana pulling her scared-rabbit routine while she sits across from me.
I have to deal with the girl whose leg keeps brushing against mine under the table—Jocelyn Reid, daughter of Senator Martin Reid, somebody Dad is vaguely acquainted with. It didn’t matter to Irene that they’re not very close. As soon as she heard Dad knows the guy, she was dead set on having him at the rehearsal. “It’s not everybody who can have a senator at such an important event,” she reminded Dad more than once, to the point where I wanted to scream at her to stop being such an obvious opportunist.
The senator is sitting to Dad’s left while Irene sits at his right, hanging onto the man’s every word. That leaves me with his daughter, who happens to be my age and who has no problem letting me know she’s interested. Extremely.
“We should get out of here early,” she murmurs in my ear, sliding her foot up my leg where no one can see. “We can make some excuse or another. Believe me, nobody is going to mind if you’re seen leaving with me.”
She’s right about that, and the thought makes me bristle. Yes, that is exactly what Dad wants. “Jocelyn is the sort of girl I would love to see you become involved with,” he informed me earlier tonight when he told me she would be sitting next to me at dinner. “She has a great future in front of her. She knows the right people. You could go far with a woman like that in your life.”
Maybe I should remind him I’m nineteen and nowhere near ready to settle down with anybody. Not even a girl with Jocelyn’s big, baby-blue eyes and enormous tits. She’s dressed modestly, and her dress covers all the interesting bits, but it’s tight enough that it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
Wearing a smile that I hope looks polite, I turn my head in Dad’s direction when he asks a question. “What was that?” I ask since I didn’t hear him with Jocelyn whispering at me.
It doesn’t really matter what he says. That’s not what I’m interested in. No, what interests me is the way Elliana doesn’t fix her face fast enough. When my gaze slides past her, it’s dead obvious she’s paying close attention to Jocelyn and me—and staring holes through both of us. Jocelyn mainly, almost glaring at her.
Interesting. Maybe the senator’s daughter has a purpose, after all.
The fact is, my stepsister has gone out of her way to avoid me ever since the night I went down on her. It’s been weeks of trying to catch her alone, trying to corner her at home, but she’s too fast. She’s even been helping Irene with last-minute wedding stuff. That’s how I know she’s going out of her way to stay as far from me as she can.
Most of the time, she’s even getting rides with Wren and Maya. When I reminded her the girls don’t owe her anything, she shrugged it off. I don’t know where this new attitude came from, why she thinks she can get away with being so defiant. Eventually, it’s going to catch up to her. She has to know that.
But it’s all right. I’ve been willing to bide my time, because in the end, I’m going to be the one left standing. I’m the one with the photos on my phone. She can pretend all she wants to be in control, to dictate when and where we spend time together, but all she’s doing is delaying the inevitable. Eventually, I’m going to hold them over her head again—and the longer I make her wait, the more she’ll wonder when I’ll decide to drop the hammer. No matter how she pretends otherwise, I know it’s under her skin.
“Where would you want to go?” I ask Jocelyn, turning my attention back to her, speaking just loudly enough for her and Elliana to hear.
“I don’t care,” she replies with a knowing grin. “My apartment isn’t far from here, actually. I would love to show you around.”
“I would love to see it,” I reply, deliberately letting my attention center on the cleavage that barely peeks out from the neckline of her dress. The thing is, I like being the pursuer. I think most guys do. It’s one thing for a girl to be interested and even eager, but it’s something different when she throws herself at a guy.
But she doesn’t know that—and neither does the girl sitting across from me. She really needs to learn how to hide her jealousy. Up until now, she’s been infuriatingly good at concealing her thoughts. What’s changed?
I look her way across the table, and her gaze darts back down to her plate, where she’s moving food around with her fork. “Don’t you like the salmon?” I ask, because I don’t feel like leaving well enough alone. Not with the opportunity to torture her right in front of me, like a shiny toy meant only for my amusement.
“I think it’s delicious,” Jocelyn announces, tossing golden hair over her shoulder before taking another bite.
Elliana shrugs, looking painfully uncomfortable in a light cotton dress and cardigan. It must be killing her, not being able to hide under one of her sweaters. That, plus Irene insisted she wear her contacts tonight so she wouldn’t ruin any pictures.
All right, that’s extremely shitty. It’s one thing for me to make fun of her, but her own mother? It’s not my problem, and I know it, but it doesn’t exactly endear the woman to me. What kind of mom says something like that to her only daughter?
It gets worse, as it turns out. Once our plates are cleared away and we’re waiting for dessert, Elliana excuses herself and heads for the restroom. It takes all of my self-control to stay where I am instead of following her, settling on watching her.
Until Irene gets up and follows her.
“Excuse me,” I offer to Jocelyn without looking her way, getting up, doing what I can to look casual as I trail behind Irene. We’re not the only ones taking the opportunity to stretch our legs between courses, so it doesn’t look strange.
Rather than go straight to the men’s room, I pause in front of the door to the ladies’ room, where a certain familiar voice echoes on the other side. Why would Irene bother keeping her voice down when there are so many people who might overhear? Anybody could walk in at any second, but she’s too determined to grind her daughter down to give a shit.
“You know, if you even tried to act like a normal person every once in a while, you could have somebody like that sitting with you too,” she hisses. “There are plenty of young men who Paul knows—the sons of his colleagues and associates and friends. You think I wouldn’t love to have the kind of daughter I would happily pair them up with? But no, you would rather be an embarrassment, sitting there like you’re afraid of your own shadow. Do you know how that looks for us?”
This bitch. She doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. I can imagine the way Elliana must be standing in there, head down, shoulders hunched, absorbing her mother’s hatred.
I have to step aside when I hear footsteps coming my way. Irene doesn’t notice me as she returns to the table, all smiles—the gracious hostess. I really hope nobody but me heard what was going on in there. If only for Dad’s sake. What would everybody think if they knew what his wife was really like?
When Elliana comes out, it’s obvious she’s been crying; her eyes are red, her face damp like she rinsed it. And when she sees me waiting near the door, her face falls, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” she whispers, folding her arms, ducking her chin.
“Nothing.” I mean, what is there to say? Sorry your mom’s a bitch? Anyway, she does have a point. If Elliana could just loosen up and act like a regular person, she might actually enjoy her life a little.
“Well, go do nothing someplace else,” she mutters. “I’m going home.”
“So early? We haven’t had dessert yet.”
“Oh, no,” she whispers, rolling her eyes. “How could I possibly miss dessert?”
When her chin trembles, it’s obvious she’s still hurting. Who wouldn’t? “You need a ride?” It seems like the right thing to do.
I should know better by now. “What, and take you away from your new girlfriend? I wouldn’t dream of it.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs before walking away, her hips swinging with every quick step she takes. I wish I didn’t want to stare. I really do.
Fuck it. She wants to act that way when all I’m trying to do is be nice for once? Let her. It’s not my fault she can’t fit in anywhere she goes. Jocelyn’s wide smile greets me when I return to my seat, and I know I should try hard to match her energy.
But my heart’s not in it. Not even close. She’s gorgeous, she’s got a killer body, but she does nothing for me. She’s not a challenge. She’s not even that interesting.
And if anything, the fact that Dad keeps looking our way wearing an approving smile makes her that much more unappealing. Since when do I do anything just because Dad wants me to? He should know better by now.
“You know, I think my stepsister is feeling kind of sick tonight. I should go home and check on her,” I tell Jocelyn once people start saying their goodbyes after the dessert and coffee are gone. “It’s a big day tomorrow. I think my dad would appreciate it if I kept an eye on her.”
Instead of looking disappointed, she looks kind of pissed. “Well, aren’t you the kind stepbrother?” she asks with a snort. “Here I was, thinking you wanted to have fun tonight. Thanks for the mixed signals.”
I could continue with my excuse, remind her it’s not my fault, but what’s the use? It’s all completely insincere, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I reply, since I figure she’ll probably be at the wedding with her dad.
“Don’t expect a hello,” she mutters before standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. So much for that. No big loss.
Everybody’s too busy air-kissing and joking about the big day tomorrow to notice me slipping out. Did she make it home all right? Is she upset? How can she not be? How can Irene be so cruel? Not that I would put much past her—it’s not like my opinion of her has fallen too far, since I didn’t have a high opinion of her in the first place.
But still. She’s a mother. Can’t she at least pretend to like her own daughter? The question bounces around in my head throughout the drive home, leaving me feeling unsettled and unsure of myself by the time I roll up the driveway. I’m the only one who gets to torment Elliana, dammit.
She’s exactly where I knew she would be. There’s a light burning in her room when I reach the upstairs hallway. I listen for a little while, but don’t hear anything coming from inside before I try the doorknob. No big surprise, she has made a habit of locking it lately. “It’s me,” I call out, knocking on the door. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“What, are you already finished with your girl? Or is she in your room, waiting?” Fuck, she is bitter. Her voice is thick with emotion—she’s probably been crying all alone.
“No, because I decided to come home and check on you,” I snap. “Now open the door, because I’m tired of talking to it.”
“Why should I?” Her voice gets a little louder, telling me she’s coming my way. “What, you just can’t resist the opportunity to make me feel like shit? Can I get one fucking night?”
Damn. When she decides to find her voice, she doesn’t stop using it. “Maybe I wanted to see if you were all right. Is that unbelievable?”
She barks out a laugh before opening the door, dressed in the same sort of tank top and shorts she wore the night of the party. “Are you honestly asking me that question? Because yeah, it’s plenty unbelievable. And I’ve already been through more than enough tonight, thank you very much.”
She is so wounded. There is so much anger brewing in her. It touches something in me, lights it up, and makes it come to life.
She cranes her neck to look over my shoulder and tips her head to the side. “Wow. You really are alone. What, did Miss Senator’s Daughter decide you weren’t good enough?” she asks, folding her arms and smiling for the first time all night.
“Don’t start that shit just because you’re jealous,” I fire back.
“Jealous?” Her laughter rings out but it’s too loud, almost forced. She’s trying too hard.
“Give me a fucking break,” I snarl when her laughter uncorks the anger I’ve tried to bottle up. “What, I don’t have eyes? I couldn’t see you watching us?”
“If you’re paying attention to me,” she retorts, “you couldn’t have been paying very close attention to her. No wonder she told you to get lost.”
“She didn’t.”
“She should have.”
“Stop lying to yourself. It’s pathetic,” I snap, backing her into the room, kicking the door closed behind me. “We both know you like it when I touch you.”
“You mean when you force me to do things? When you blackmail me?” She shuffles backward when I move toward her, the hunter stalking my prey.
“I’m not forcing you to like it, am I?” I murmur, watching her face change, watching pure bitterness touch her eyes, narrowing them, making her cheeks flush. Every ragged breath she takes makes her tits rise and fall so temptingly.
When the backs of her legs hit the bed, she has nowhere else to go, and I take advantage of that by lunging at her, surprising her into falling backward until she’s propped up by her elbows.
“You come every single time.” Leaning down, my hands on either side of her body, I whisper, “Tonight, I’ll make you come as many times as I want to. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”