Chapter 10
Selena
I let myself in as quietly as I could, kicking my boots off outside and easing through the patio doors.
After tiptoeing through the quiet house, I reached my bedroom and slipped inside.
I closed the door after me, leaning back on it, and tried to calm my furiously beating heart.
I didn’t want my mom catching me out all night.
Her and Brody being on my case was the last thing I needed.
I stripped off my clothes, feeling grimy after my unplanned sleepover at Winter’s place, and headed for the bathroom.
Cautiously unlocking the door to my side of the bathroom, I listened carefully before peeking in.
The coast was clear. I scurried inside and immediately ran to the door on Brody’s side, turning the lock so he couldn’t enter.
I stared at myself in the mirror and sighed. God, I looked rough. Mascara ringed both my eyes, even smearing down my cheeks. My lipstick was faded in places, and my hair could house several pigeons happily.
I turned the water as hot as I could stand it and got under the stream.
I had to admit, it was a damn good shower.
I lost track of how long I stayed under there.
There was nowhere I felt better these days than in the shower.
Washing myself clean was my happy place.
There, under the blistering stream, so hot my skin turned pink, I felt like maybe I could start again, without all my baggage, just be reborn, like a phoenix burning up before rising.
I got out when I started to feel a little dizzy from the heat, stumbling onto the plush bathmat. The towels in this house were so large, they swamped me, coming down to mid-shin. I guess it made sense, seeing as they had to wrap around two oversized hockey players. I liked the feeling, though.
I brushed my teeth and combed my wet hair back. Should I cut it? I’d toyed with the idea of shaving it all off but was scared to lose the shield I hid behind.
“If you’re thinking a trim might be in order, I agree. I’m sure your mother has her instructions on how to make you Sinclair worthy, if such a thing is possible.”
I jumped and whirled to face the door to my bedroom.
Brody stood there, in workout clothes drenched in sweat. He leaned his hip and shoulder on the doorjamb. Casually devastating in the early morning light, his dark hair also wet with sweat.
“I locked your door,” I said lamely, as my brain attempted to work on three hours of sleep.
He nodded. “Yeah, I noticed, but you forgot to lock yours.”
Duh.
“I guess I didn’t expect you just to barge through my room,” I fumed.
He shrugged. “Again, it’s my house. They are all my rooms. Where did you stay last night?” he asked.
“None of your business,” I snapped, more reflexive than anything else.
He sighed, making me feel like an irritating child who he’d been put in reluctant charge of.
“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid. I see it’s going to take you a while to adjust to that simple fact, though.”
“I won’t be adjusting to anything.”
“We’ll see,” Brody murmured.
His gaze dropped to my arms, and I panicked. Oh God, they were bare.
“Get out of here and leave me alone!” I protested.
His gaze narrowed on me, trying to see what I didn’t want to share.
“We haven’t finished our conversation.”
“I need to get dressed,” I told him stiffly.
He watched me and inclined his head. “I’ll wait.”
Then he stepped back through the door and pulled it shut behind him. The relief was short-lived when I remembered that he’d let himself into my room.
I pulled on a huge, oversized bathrobe, rolling the sleeves up a little and belting it tightly. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let this conversation he wanted to have slide, so I had to get it over with.
I opened the door to my room and marched out.
Brody stood at the window, gazing out at the view that held the cliffs beyond the house and the sea crashing angrily on the rocks.
“Well, what is it?” I demanded.
He took his time to turn and acknowledge me.
“You said last night that I could threaten you all I wanted, but you had nothing to lose.”
Nerves gathered in the pit of my stomach at his arrogant confidence.
I shrugged, trying not to let him see.
“Shall we test that theory?”
I wet my lips, my mouth dry. “Test that theory how?”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it. Then he turned his screen toward me. He held an email from someone at Sinclair Industries, talking about paying for Cici’s school.
My heart dropped.
“It’s an expensive school. I can see how your mum couldn’t afford it easily. And, of course, your sister could go to public school; she has before.”
“No. She—she needs that school,” I heard myself say.
Sure, technically, Cici had gone to a mainstream school before, but when her autism spectrum disorder had met with that environment, it had kicked off her anxiety, and the eating disorder had followed. Now, her life hung in the balance.
Brody stared at me, drinking in my reactions. “Does she really?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Does she need it enough that her older, heathen sister can learn to follow some ground rules? Or is your bad-girl act more important to you?”
I fought hard to keep my breathing slow and steady.
“I’m waiting,” Brody stated flatly when I hesitated.
“You don’t know anything about me—” I started.
“Right, and I don’t care to. I just care that you know your place.”
God, there was nothing like top-notch arrogance expressed in a posh English accent.
“Know your place, and play happy family, and your sister gets to finish her expensive school. Got it?”
I could hardly answer, I felt so powerless and hopeless, and furious all at the same time.
“I said, got it?” Brody continued.
Heat beat at my cheeks. I nodded.
“I can’t hear you,” he said.
“I got it. You’re the goddamn Antichrist with a control fetish, and I’m the poor soul who has to live with you. Understood.”
Brody’s mouth quirked up in one corner at my phrasing.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page, Selena. I expect to see a dramatic difference in your appearance and comportment directly.”
I glared at him. “My what?”
“How you act. Just know, from now on, I’ll be watching.” He smirked at me, totally at ease now that he’d found something to blackmail me with.
He walked away, stripping his T-shirt off, and went into the bathroom. His broad back was liberally decorated with intricate ink, his muscles flexing and gleaming under the lights. Why was I even noticing? Shame ripped through me, hot and painful.
I turned away as he shut the door behind him.
“Just know, from now on, I’ll be watching.”
Great. Lucky me.