Page 53 of Iris' Lying Eyes

∞∞∞

Bastion comes in late, and I pretend to sleep, but I’m still awake hours later when he rolls out of bed. He shuts the bathroom door as he walks by, and I close my eyes.

I spent the evening brooding, and only as I emerge from the bed do I confirm my plan. I’ll slip out while Bastion is occupied entertaining his guests.

This time, I’ll have to be more circumspect about where I go, though, because he’s proven he’s willing to hunt me down. The reasoning behind that is still unknown, but it doesn’t matter.

I have my course, and it isn’t waiting around to suck the big lug’s dick, even if under normal circumstances I’d be all for it.

Ugh. All the more reason to go.

The party is hours away, but the first of my orders arrives, and with glee, I start directing traffic to various rooms throughout the house.

I’m setting up a room down the hall when I hear the rumble of voices. Poking my head out the door, I watch as Bastion enters the office with his father on his heels.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I drop the cushion in my hands before tiptoeing down the hall.

As I approach, Roman says, “What’s going on, son? You said she wasn’t staying, and now she’s wandering around in new clothes and picking out furniture.”

Bastion grunts, and I tip my head against the wall, equally curious about his answer.

“Well? She’s a liability, Bastion.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Bastion growls, and I smile.

Go B!

“Bastion, if you want a bitch, I can hook you up, but—”

“Enough. Iris stays. She’s mine. If you don’t like it. You know where the door is.”

My smile fades, and I rub my wrist, the pressure soothing against the backdrop of my thoughts.

What does it mean when he says it to his father? Another smokescreen? It would be foolish to think otherwise, but yeah, why the clothes? Shit, even the furniture.

“Do you even know who she’s fucked all these years? Because she probably doesn’t,” Roman says, and I smack my head gently against the wall.

Although true, the words still sting, my penance for thinking I could use my body to get my way. All that served me was a healthy helping of scorn. Well, that, and it annoyed John too.

“You know this, how?” Bastion says. “I thought you were Castinetti’s grunt?”

“Careful,” Roman says. “I’m nobody’s grunt, and I don’t like your fucking mouth.”

“Oh?” Bastion says, so quietly I strain to hear. “Do I have to remind you who you’re speaking to?”

There’s a pause, and I crane my neck to see before slamming it against the wall.

“No,” Roman says stiffly. “But you’re making a mistake with that girl. She’s trouble.”

“Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself,” Bastion says, and I scurry back to the room.

Roman is not going to take this lying down.

Does Bastion know what he’s doing? Fuck.

∞∞∞

At five p.m., I head back up the stairs to get ready with a wide smile on my face. I placed the furniture in weird spots all over, so just when he thinks he’s reached the end of my rebellion, there’ll be another to smack him in the face.

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