Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(59)

Her green eyes bunched together as if she didn’t understand me. “You could stop loving me if I simply told you to? When did you become so fickle—”

“Don’t * foot it, Dona. You want me to go, then say it. Tell me to go find another woman…someone, as you say, on par with me.”

I could see she was going to call my bluff and so I kissed her, like I’d been dying to since she came back, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her body to mine. And only when she kissed me back did I pull away again.

“Sorry. Now tell me.”

“Fuck you. I don’t take orders.” She snapped, grabbing her bottle of wine and marching out of the pool house.

“Jesus,” I muttered to myself, wishing I’d kissed her longer, my pants getting tighter as my dick hardened.

Eleven years.

That was how long I’d been walking on the path to her.

And I’d keep walking for another eleven. Hell, even twenty-seven years. It didn’t matter as long as in the end she’d be mine, in front of everyone.

I was willing to do anything…be anything for her.





EIGHTEEN


“Shattered legs may heal in time, but some betrayals fester and poison the soul.”

~ George R.R. Martin





IVY


“I didn’t know it was possible for a person to bum a ride on a private jet,” Ethan spoke out loud as he read through the paperwork in front of him.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be a bum on your own jet,” Wyatt replied, biting into his granola bar.

Both of them sat on opposite sides of the plane, neither looking at each other and pretending to talk to me when they were really talking to each other.

And here I thought my family had issues.

“Translation.” I sat up in my seat as I decoded their childish conversation. “Wyatt, what Ethan means is I’m glad you chose to save money and fly with us. Ethan, Wyatt said, of course, seeing as he inherited the jet he’d use it from time to time. Thank you for taking care of it for me.”

Both of their eyes shifted to me, to which I smiled. “Please don’t stop on my account. I think I’m good at this.”

I wanted to laugh outright when they both rolled their eyes at the exact time and went back to what they were doing. Since they wouldn’t talk to me, I leaned over the arm of my chair at the men sitting in front of us. There were three of them, Greyson I knew, and Lex, I believe, the man who’d been in the car when we rushed to the hospital, and one tall, slim man who wore a golf hat and had a toothpick in his mouth.

“Pssst.” I tried to get their attention, but none of them noticed. Instead, Ethan and Wyatt both glanced at me. Ignoring them as they did me, I took one of the sheets in front of me, folded it into a triangle and then flicked perfectly, knocking the toothpick out of his mouth. “Touchdown!”

“Does she have the mental capacity to consent to marriage?” Wyatt frowned, looking over at Ethan.

“Whether she does or not is no concern of yours,” he said, reaching for his scotch as he went back to reading.

“Wowwww. You’re both *s.” I frowned, looking between them. “Coming from you, Wyatt, the guy who chooses to piss his brother off because he’d rather fight than sit in silence and pretend he doesn’t care, you insulting my maturity is funny. And you, Ethan, I’m a little hurt. What happened to treating me the way you were taught to treat a lady? I guess it only counts when you’re f*cking me.”

Wyatt’s mouth dropped open.

Ethan coughed, choking on his drink.

“Hey, guys?” I waved at the men, trying very hard not to laugh. “How much longer until we land?”

“Another half hour, ma’am.” Greyson checked his watch.

Groaning, I rested back into the tan leather seat. “I’m not sure how much longer we can remain in a metal box at 41,298 feet without someone dying.”

“Uh, 41,298 is a little specific, isn’t it?” Lex asked.

Checking out the window for a second and then sitting back, I shook my head. “No. That should be right considering when we took off and how much longer we have to go.”

They all just stared at me.

“You’re shitting us, ma’am,” Mr. Toothpick said, pulling out the toothpick from his mouth and leaning over the chair to get a better look at me.

Now I was annoyed. “I really f*cking hate it when people think I’m kidding when I’m being serious. It feels like you’re calling me stupid. Are you calling me stupid?”

Before he could reply or beg for forgiveness Ethan pressed the call button next to his chair.

“Sir?” A voice came over the intercom.

“What’s our current altitude?” Ethan asked, his eyes trained on me as well.

“It’s 41,298 feet, sir.”

“Thank you!” I threw my hands up.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.

“Sir?” the pilot called.

“It’s fine,” Ethan said, releasing the button.

I smugly nodded at him. “You’re all just like Ms. Lisowski.”

Ethan shook his head. “Should I even ask?”

“Ms. Lisowski was a fourth grade teacher at my school.” I went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “However, the fourth grade teacher I was assigned to told her I was smart and so I should be in her class. Ms. Lisowski took one look at me and laughed, saying I wouldn’t fit in with her class.”