Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers, #4)(15)

“She’ll be okay,” I said, standing. I strolled across the room, lying next to the naked masterpiece in my bed, snuggling up next to her.

Paige reached back, tightening my arms around her without opening her eyes.

Finley waved to me, mouthing, Brunch in two hours, before she left.

I rested my cheek against the silky skin of Paige’s back, inhaling the alluring mix of stale smoke and lotion. She stirred, her blue hair dragging against the pillow like a peacock feather. I didn’t fear the awkward goodbye that would inevitably follow, or her feelings. My genuine curiosity for what she would do with her life after me settled in the nonexistent space between us. I hooked my leg over hers, the full, smooth limb sticking out of the expensive wrinkled sheet that only covered her perfectly curved ass—the same one that arched and bucked against my touch until the sun cast pastels across the sky.

“I’m awake,” she whispered. “I’m afraid if I move, it will be over.”

I placed the camera in front of her face and clicked the display button, showing her the picture of her hand. Everything from her arm out was blurry, but her blue hair couldn’t be confused with anyone else. I was prepared for her to ask me to delete it, but she reached back to caress my face.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Can I keep it?”

“Yes. Is it over now?”

“It’s over,” I said. “I’ll have José drive you home.”

“Who’s José?” she asked. She sat up and stretched, not at all upset.

“An employee.”

She smiled, her sleepy, content twin pools disappearing behind her lashes several times before she focused. “I’ll get dressed.”

She hopped out of bed, pulling on her skinny jeans and sweater, and then her boots.

“Breakfast is downstairs. Maricela will get you anything you need.”

Paige nodded, holding her purse to her chest. She really wasn’t going to ask me to join her. She wasn’t going to ask anything.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” she said.

I propped my head with my hand. “I won’t get that lucky twice.”

She didn’t try to hide that she was flattered. Her cheeks pinked, and she carried her coat out the door, disappearing down the hall. Her footsteps were barely audible as she descended the stairs, but my father’s voice carried when he greeted her.

I settled against the headboard, waiting patiently and without fear of his inquisition. He would be angry about the cleaning bill, but more so about his wrecked Peter Max painting than the money. He didn’t love anything more than he loved me, and that was fortunate because my mood swings and acting out had cost him millions. The Ferrari, the fire in his partner’s Italian villa, and the legal bills—also known as bribes—to keep me out of jail.

He stopped abruptly in my doorway, as if he were a vampire who had to be invited to enter.

“Hi, Daddy. How was your trip?”

“Ellison,” he began, his voice thick with contrived disappointment. “We’ve come home early to chat with you. It’s not that we don’t love you, bunny…”

“I know you love me,” I said. I kept my face smooth, but I was wondering where he was headed with the conversation. He usually began with the We’re so disappointed in you, but we love you and expect you to do better speech, but this seemed different.

He sighed, already exhausted from parenting me. Two sets of heels clicked down the hall. I sat up taller when my mother entered the room, followed by her life coach, Sally.

“Philip,” Mother began, “I told you to wait.” She spoke under her breath, smiling at me as she always did, as if her unnatural smile made her words magically imperceptible.

“I just—”

“Mr. Edson,” Sally said. “It’s important we keep a united front, remember?”

“What is this?” I asked, amused. “An intervention?”

“We love you,” Daddy said.

Mother held the back of her hand against her husband’s chest and took a step forward, clasping her fingers together at her waist. “Ellison, when your father and I learned about the party and damage, we were already at our limit. We’ve warned you countless times. You’re an adult now. There really is no excuse.”

“Why is Sally here?” I asked.

Mother continued, “We’re at the point where we’re concerned about your safety and the safety of others. How old was the young girl who just left?”

“Old enough,” I said, settling back against my pillow.

I stretched to hide how unsettled I felt. This kind of confrontation was a first for them. My parents usually had a heated argument, in my presence, about how to deal with me, and then my father would send me on a lavish vacation—like the one I was about to take with Finley.

Mother smoothed the lines of regret that cut across her forehead. “Your father and I have decided to…” She cleared her throat. Despite her exasperation, she was unsure.

“Meredith … go on,” Sally said.

“You’re grounded,” Mother forced out.

“I’m … what?” I giggled the last word, in total disbelief. I’d never been grounded in my life, not even when I was young enough to actually be grounded.