Page 144 of The Loathing

I smile when I see my mother park next to us. She slams the car door shut, Arabella behind her and I can see my father stewing in the car.

“Ready?” I smile, linking my arm through hers as we begin walking to the main entrance of the house. Arabella linking her arm through my left arm.

“I am.”

“Dad annoyed you?”

“Oh yes,” she smirks, “so he can stew on it.”

“It was an awkward car journey,” Arabella sniggers as I open the front door.

“Welcome to my prison,” I say as I open the door wide, my jaw dropping to the floor when I see Wolfe standing in the entrance hall, stark bollock naked with a petite blonde on her knees giving him a blow job. Disgust rolls deep inside of me, what a little weasel.

“What’s the matter wife? Don’t like seeing me getting sexual acts off someone else… oh, well… I just wanted to give you a little taste of your own medicine… doesn’t it taste bitter,” he smirks as he continues to throat fuck the woman.

“Not overly,” I glare at him through my lashes, a slow smirk slipping onto my lips, “I mean, I am more relieved than anything.”

“And why is that little monster?”

“Because losing my virginity to that would have been a breeze with your little wiener,” I shake my head, “oh, and my father is behind me, wiener dick,” I lift my head and continue to walk to the garden.

“What the fuck have I just walked into?” I hear my father’s voice bounce from the walls and I let out a soft giggle.

Take that you little fucker.

We sit at the dinner table and the room is thick with tension. I don’t know how my father refrained from planting a fist on Wolfe’s jaw for being disrespectful, but then again, he already has a target on his back, we don’t need anymore.

“How was the wedding dress?” Wolfe asks, lifting his eyes from his dinner plate.

“Awful, I’ve told your little wench that she needs to sew the slit on Amora’s dress up.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Wolfe sneers then looks at me, “Amora?”

“Awful,” I nod, taking a bite of chicken and instantly regretting it so I wash it down with water and silently pray that I won’t be sick. “I don’t like the dress,” I just about manage.

“It’s not about you though, is it?” Wolfe remarks and I pause, lifting my brows high.

“I am pretty sure it’s more the bride’s day than it is the grooms. I mean, most, not me, but most little girls dream of their wedding day. The flowers, the dress, the venue…” my lips twitch, “the husband.”

I place my drink back on the table.

“But unfortunately, I don’t get to choose any of that, because I wouldn’t have chosen you but alas, here we are. So yes, the dress is awful. You chose so wrong.”

“Well, I am sorry to hear that but that’s the dress I want you in.”

“Then the slit will be sewn up like my father requested.”

Wolfe slowly turns his head to look at my father who just cocks his head to the side. My breath catches in the back of my throat when I feel Titus’ hand skim over my thigh and grip tightly. I’ve missed the way my skin tingles, the way my heart drums in my chest at the smallest bit of contact.

“Xavier,” Titus calls across the table and I see my father’s eyes clock that Titus’ hand has just slipped up from under the table.

I freeze and widen my eyes at the sudden loss.

“Pass the salt please.”

I swear I see the life drain from my father’s eyes as he chokes on his mouthful of food, but my mother let’s out a little giggle and I don’t miss the crimson that sparks in her cheeks, my lips twist into a smile and I like that I am blissfully unaware of what the private joke is; I will ask my mother one day, just not today.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

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