Page 62 of House Rules
I wince as I speak the words. Probably not the best thing to say, given their topic of conversation. But seriously…how terribly do I have to disrespect this bitch for her to get the hint? Being an asshole kind of comes with the territory of being a Titan; it keeps most women from acting like Summer here. Still, some of them just try their hardest to attach themselves to us, and that ends up with nothing but fucking problems.
She says something else I don’t hear as I continue over to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee.
Phoenix says something to Stella and then walks her out.
A moment later she’s in my face. “Did you have to be such an asshole to her?”
“Yes,” I answer. “The last time I wasn’t a complete asshole to a girl like that, she started stalking me. Things went missing from my room. Suddenly she was everywhere, and the police had to get involved. I don’t know exactly what was wrong with her, but last I heard, she was in a mental institution.”
Phoenix shakes her head in confusion. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all. Each of us has had our own dedicated stalkers, women who either focus on us because of mental health issues or because they’re trying to get our money or in Atticus’s case, they’re trying to get to his father. It’s really messed up, but by being dicks, we can discourage most of them, and most women don’t stick around.”
I shrug and she just stares at me, not blinking. I take a sip of my coffee. “What is it about Atticus’ father?” she finally asks. “Why do women want him?”
I wasn’t expecting that question, but I guess it’s fair. “Well, he’s rich?—”
“So are all of you.”
“He’s good-looking for an older guy?—”
“You’re all good-looking. Why would girls want a rich, half-decent looking older man, instead?”
“...and he’s divorced, so he’s perceived as being available and a slightly easier target than us.”
“Oh.” She thinks for a moment, then nods.
“Get dressed.” My gaze travels over her shorts and T-shirt. “You need to be in your uniform in ten minutes. We’re going down to to play blackjack.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“It wasn’t a request.” I head back into my room.
The dressthat she chooses is absolutely fucking perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t insist on more red in her wardrobe. The hue suits her, bringing out the flush of her golden skin and the amber flame of her eyes.
As she walks out in a pair of sky-high stilettos, her makeup done to perfection, she looks like she’sready to take on the entire world. My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip. Today she’s going to take on me, and I’m going to make sure she fucking loses.
I take her hand in mine, we head directly to the VIP blackjack room. It’s a Saturday and early in the day still, so while there are a few people roaming around, the casino is not too crowded. Perfect.
I sit down, and with only a small flex of my hand, Phoenix, understanding the assignment by now, sits on my lap.
Wrapping an arm around her hips, I rest my hand on her inner thigh, just high enough that I can move my thumb and make sure she didn’t break dress code with underwear.
Phoenix jolts slightly, tensing at the touch of my finger against the smooth lips of her labia. She followed orders, which is going to make this little game so much more fun for me. She looks over at the dealer, who is very deliberately keeping his gaze trained on the surface of the table and the cards in front of him, and then turns her face slightly toward me.
Her hair falls across her cheek, but I see the reddening of her fair skin and hear her quiet whisper anyway. “Stop that.”
I laugh, low and dark. “I don’t think so, firebird.”
The dealer is making idle chitchat, which is fine. It’s what they’re paid to do—chat with the players and distract them, but keep them at the table at the same time.
It’s not until he speaks to Phoenix that I have a problem.
“Did you hear about Rachel?” he asks, his eyebrows lifting.
“Yeah, I did. It’s so sad.”
“Who the fuck is Rachel?” I ask, and Phoenix sends me a shocked expression. Her breath hitches as I stroke my thumb lightly along her seam.
