Page 11 of Disorder (Elite of Elmwood 2)

“Hey, sis.”

Chapter Three

Motherfucker.

At the sound of Carter’s voice, I lost ten years of my life. Jumping, I backed into the wall, spotting the bastard on the center of my bed. Messy, sandy hair fell over his forehead, and he’d changed into a pair of gray sweats with a white T-shirt.

Had he been here all night? Slept here?

The thought caused a shudder in my veins, and I was certain I could never sleep in that bed again. Another thing in my life Carter ruined.

Staring at my stepbrother, fear paralyzed me, and I regretted stepping foot inside this house. How stupid could I be? Of course Carter was waiting for me. This was Carter. My deranged, desperate, and out-of-his-bloody-mind stepbrother.

Fuckkkk!

Now what, Josie?

My mistake. My problem. I had to deal with this—with Carter—on my own.

Steeling my chin, I dug deep inside myself and pulled out a kernel of strength. “Where’s my phone, asshole?”

Carter quirked a brow. “Morning to you too.” His voice grated on my nerves.

“What are you doing in my room?” I demanded. My hands fisted at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The pain held me together, kept me centered, kept me from going back to last night. I’d already been down the road once this morning. I refused to go there again. Not in front of Carter.

He made no indication to move from his spot on the bed, hands propped behind his head. “I was worried when you didn’t come home last night.”

My fists hit the wall behind me. “Bullshit. Cut the crap, Carter. I’m done with your games. I don’t want to be part of this.” Someone had to be home. The day maids? The cook? Edmund! Surely one of them would hear me if I screamed.

Carter rocked upright on the bed, his long legs stretching so half of them hung over the side. He dwarfed the queen-sized mattress. “It’s too late for that. You’re the key component.”

I scrambled over to my desk, whipping out a pair of scissors from the penholder, and clutched them like a weapon I wasn’t afraid to use in front of me. “Get. Out.”

He laughed. “Cute. If you get blood in here, Macy is going to have a shit fit.” Macy was one of the maids who usually cleaned our rooms.

I kept a firm grip on the scissors. “Like you care about the staff. Or anyone but yourself, for that matter.”

He wasn’t fazed. “True. But I do care about my future.”

“Is this going somewhere?” The longer I was alone with him, the higher my anxiety spiked. He was fucking with my get in and out plan. Truthfully, the entire plan had gone to shit. My eyes flashed to the open sliding door and back to Carter.

His expression darkened, turning into something ominous. “You shouldn’t have slept with him.”

“Who I sleep with is no concern of yours.”

“Did you fuck him last night? I bet you did.” His smirk made the act of having sex with Brock dirty when it was anything but.

Well, maybe a little, but not in the creepy-ass way Carter implied.

“And if I did?” I gloated, pointing the tip of the scissors toward Carter’s heart, because that was a smart move, baiting the unstable stepbrother.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, his blue eyes never left mine as he said, “You’re going to help me.”

I blinked. He was delusional. What other explanation was there? “Why the fuck would I do that?”

His lips curved. “I know your little secret.”

My heart jerked in my chest. “You don’t know shit, dickhead,” I replied with a scratchy edge. “Now get out of my room before I scream. And I want my phone.”

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