Page 92 of Braving the Storm
Husband.
The word hangs in the air, like the resounding toll of a bell long after the hammer has struck metal.
My chest aches, and I want to drop to my knees and beg him to ignore what my sister just said. That any piece of paper between Antoine and me, a formal contract binding me to him out of duty and obligation and families hungry for power, that it’s all bullshit. I’ve never cared or felt a single thing for that piece of scum.
I want Stôrmand Lane to know that I belong to him, that I’ll willingly behisas long as he’ll have me.
“Briar here tells me that you’ve been gracious enough to sleep on the couch.” My sister’s voice pierces the tension of the room. “This place really is far too small for the two of you to both be staying here.” Her nose wrinkles as she looks around, picking at some invisible piece of dirt on the couch with a fingernail.
“I was just getting your bedding for you,” I mumble, gesturing with the items I’m still clinging onto like some sort of life raft in amongst the insanity of all of this.
“You eaten, Crispin?” Storm doesn’t make a move to come any further inside, remaining stoically in place by the door.
“I found something on the drive here from the airport. God, there really is next to nothing out here, though.” She makes a face. “I’ve got a room booked in town tomorrow, so Briar and I will be heading down there in the morning.”
My head whips in her direction. “No.” I blurt out.
Eyes narrow on me from the direction of the couch.
“No, I won’t be going anywhere,” I say, shifting my weight.
“Don’t be difficult, Briar.”
“Crispin.” The man by the door says her name with a venom I haven’t heard from him, not since that first night when I arrived, and he was a terrifying prospect looming over me. “I’m gonna extend you the courtesy of a bed for the night, but you will watchyour tone with Briar. I don’t care how you think it is acceptable to speak to your minions back in LA, but your own sister is not someone you can order around in my presence and get away with it.”
Her eyes bounce between the two of us. The woman isn’t used to having anyone speak to her that way, but even someone who is as much of a raging cunt face as she knows not to provoke ouruncle.
“You can share with me tonight, then we’ll get you back to Crimson Ridge tomorrow.” Crossing to the couch, I drop the bedding and pillow onto one end, avoiding looking Storm’s way.
The unfairness of our circumstances idles in my blood.
Why should we have to pretend and hide away, it’s not like we’re actually related… but either way, the very first person to reveal anything to, if we ever were able, is certainly not going to be my sister.
In fact, I’d gladly never have to lay eyes on the woman, let alone speak to her or give her any glimpse of insight into my life ever again.
“I’ll be chopping wood if you need anything.” Storm grunts, slamming back out the door into the darkness surrounding the cabin.
My heart feels like it has gone into overdrive. I’d barely recovered from the pure, sickening shock of Cris turning up at the front door. Now I have to face the prospect of spending the night sharing a bed with her, and it turns my stomach.
“Bedroom and bathroom are just down here.” My tongue feels numb as I wrap my arms around myself and gesture with my chin.
My sister huffs and gets up off the couch, surveying the room and looking down her nose. I can see the judgment and the disdain spinning away like a hamster on a wheel inside her mind. She takes everything in with a look on her face that amounts to stepping in dog shit with her stilettos.
“Chopping wood? At this time of night? God, that man is a basket case.” Her eyes roll dramatically. “He always has been nuts.Guess that’s what you get when you’ve been insane enough to ride bulls willingly for a living.”
“It’s an important job out here.” My hackles rise. “I’ll bet you’re going to be grateful for that wood supply and fire when the morning comes and you’re not frozen half to death.”
Spinning on my heel, I make my way to the bedroom. Fuck this. I’m done and just want to go crawl under the covers and do my best to pretend this is all a nightmare.
“What the hell are you playing at Briar?” She snaps from behind me, following after my footsteps. “You cannot stay here… not with someone likethat.” Her voice drops into a blunt whisper.
My jaw sets. I really, really don’t want to get into this with her, but I also have no intention of allowing her to get away with behaving like this. “Like what, exactly? Please enlighten me as to what your problem is now.”
“He’s a manwhore, slept with half the women in every state, I’m sure, and don’t tell me you don’t know about the rumors that he pretty much caused the death of his wife.”
I steady myself against the bed, pretending to fuss with the extra blanket. While I don’t have any grounds to be feeling a certain way about the crap coming out of my sister’s mouth, considering my own secrets about being married, it’s a shock to hear such an accusation all the same.
How did I not know?
