Page 85 of Deceit

Finding the waistband of her lace panties, I smile at the remembrance. Emmy would rock a pair of sweats and a knock-around tee, but she always had on the best panties underneath.

And I loved the sound of the material ripping with the soft gasp off Emmy’s lips.

Delving underneath the fabric, Emmy’s hand shoots down to my invasion and grips mine tightly. “No, we can’t.”

Oh, but we fucking can.

I don’t give a fuck what title, creed, paparazzi, or social standing Alexander holds, she was mine way before he set his sights on her and we’ve both made mistakes.

“I can’t let you go, Ems. And you can’t either. You beat Camilla’s ass out of jealousy and justice for what she did to me. I’d kill this Alexander prick without blinking if he ever hurt you.”

“But?”

I release a heavy and silent sigh, honestly not knowing what to do. “But we’re both fucked, baby. I’m the way I am, and you’re you. Absolutely and utterly devastating to my whole existence.”

I don’t miss this life.

I don’t feel a loss for the lavish parties that my mom used to throw and the endless people who sauntered around, talking shit about others who are just as crooked and big-mouthed. I definitely don’t feel a hole in my life from missing the fake pleasantries, and how no one really cared how you were, they were just asking to be polite.

It’s one of the many reasons why I took off.

Why I left myrealfamily, the one that shared some of the same DNA, and ran off to California for college as soon as I could.

“You might want to fix your shade of lipstick, darling,” my mother coos lightly, sneaking into my room like she always used to do. Even as a grown adult, she can’t respect my privacy or give me space.

“I like it,” I deadpan, examining the matte color of deep pink tinted with red. It’s calledKiller Instincts.Fitting because I should’ve never come home. I could have kept ignoring and pushing off Mom’s calls and text messages with bullshit excuses about how work was busy.

“Are you ready?”

No.

How do you prepare yourself for hell?

“I’ll be down in a minute.” I watch her eye my dress, looking for any imperfections that might embarrass her. Her little princess—me—was bartered and strolled around like bait to any eligible and illegible male. Married? Not an issue if you had money, people get divorced after all, right? “Problem?”

Mom links matching eyes with mine through my mirror and smiles, a weak and unimpressed grin illuminating her features.

I don’t miss her.

I know that sounds awful, but my mother is the group of teenage girls in high school who used to make fun of me because I didn’t have a date for junior prom. How there must’ve been something awry with me.

I was a Varsity Cheerleader, and not one pimply-faced asshole had the courage to step up and ask me to be their date.

There wasn’t anything wrong with me.

I just hated them all. And I made no means to hide it either. I might be a noisy bitch, but I’m not a fake one.

I couldn’t wait to disassociate myself with everyone in that school, my mother, my brothers, and this whole fucking rich town of pricks.

The only person I’ve ever missed was Dad.

“I’m just happy you’re home,” she offers, giving her blonde hair a gentle push for volume in her reflection. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

She leaves me to myself, softly closing the door behind me and letting it click shut.

It’s my birthday today and this is the last place I want to spend it, wallowing in my condo all day would have been better than this.

Standing from the same vanity that I used to use as a teen, I make my way downstairs and pluck a flute of champagne from a waitress before I take two steps on the main floor.

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