Page 420 of Hell Hath No Fury
I just know it.
CHAPTER SIX
Owen
“Your drool is showing,” Rick snickers in my ear, when he catches me ogling my so-called date for the night.
As the two Richfield sisters enter the country club ahead of us, with our parents in tow, Richard and I trail slowly behind them. I ignore everyone who greets us as we enter the lavish ballroom, making sure that my eyes never stray from the glorious milky skin exposed from the nape of her neck right down to the deep V on Colleen’s backless dress. My lips tug into a smile when I see a little heart-shaped birthmark right where her back ends and the swell of her ass begins. It would be so easy for me to slip my hand under the silk material and see for myself if her skin is just as smooth and soft as it looks. I’d even bet my last dollar she isn’t even wearing underwear under that thing, giving me easy access to much more than her ass.
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s hot.
“Need a Kleenex or something to wipe away that drivel off your chin? Or do you need a minute in the bathroom to jerk off?” he adds with a chuckle.
“Fuck. Can you blame me?” I smirk. “I mean, look at her. Every man in this place will be jerking off to her tonight.”
But just as I say those words, the idea of any fucker thinking of Colleen while they get their rocks off, sets my teeth on edge. And now that the thought is firmly implanted in my head, all I want to do is cover her up with my tuxedo jacket so none of these motherfuckers can get any ideas.
Worse still, is that the deep-rooted scowl that instantly pops up on my face, added with the way I can’t take my eyes off her, doesn’t go unnoticed by the friend at my side either.
“Is that jealousy I see on your face? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a little smitten with Colleen tonight,” Rick goads.
“Smitten?” I arch a brow with a snarl. “You have got to quit spending so much time with that hag you call a grandmother. You’re even starting to sound like her now.”
The mere mention of Vera is enough to swipe that teasing look off his face in two seconds flat.
Good.
I don’t want to be the only jackass in a foul mood.
“Fuck you, Turner,” he replies. “And don’t call my grandmother a hag again or that pretty face of yours won’t look so pretty after I’m done with it.”
When his light chestnut gaze turns a deep shade of brown, I know I’ve struck a nerve.
That’s the thing about Richard Price.
It’s too damn easy to ruffle his feathers.
He might never admit it out loud that he has no love lost for his grandmother, but I know deep down that he resents her for all the shit she’s put him through. Vera expects perfection, and it will be a cold day in hell before she ever lets her only grandson be anything but perfect.
Rumor has it that when Vera’s daughter married Rick’s father, Vera was less than pleased. In fact, she was downright livid and so gung-ho against their engagement that her daughter had no choice but to run off to Europe and elope. The only reason why they even returned stateside, was because his mom promised her that the Price name would live on if she ever had children. Her newlywed husband taking her last name instead of the other way around to solidify that vow.
All because Rick’s mom had been the sole heir to the Price fortune, while his dad had only been a mere bank teller in one of their family’s banks.
To this day, Vera blames his father for their untimely death. Saying it had been his idea to take the private plane that ended up crashing in the Atlantic when they were both on their way to Paris for Valentine’s Day. Where most people would take the unfortunate event as a caring husband trying to surprise his wife on the most romantic day of the year, Vera saw it as the inevitable result of poor matchmaking. She won’t make the same mistake with Rick. He’ll marry within his station, whether love is involved or not.
And my instincts tell me that the old witch has set her sights on the youngest Richfield daughter for him.
Poor asshole.
“If I were you, I’d pay less attention to me and Colleen and pay more on your own date. Something tells me your grandmother has an ulterior motive for you accompanying Sierra tonight,” I warn him.
“Sierra is a child,” he mutters defensively.
“You’re only a couple of years older than her. Are you a child?” I rebuke, trying to talk some sense into him.
“Fine. Then I’ll put it in words you understand. Sierra is fucking jailbait. I don’t care if she was sprawled on my bed, naked, I still wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
“Then that makes you a better man than most of these assholes here. I mean, look at these fuckers,” I growl, witnessing men twice Colleen’s and Sierra’s age look at them like they are a snack they can’t wait to sink their teeth into. Pervy fuckers.
