“Story.”
She kept walking, disappearing into the crowd.
“Are you planning on getting her a bodyguard anytime soon?” I said, focusing my adrenaline on West. “A girl? It’s been almost a month.”
A slugging, torturous month.
West grabbed a champagne bottle meant for a table off a passing server’s tray and patted my arm. “Don’t worry, Crowne. I’m her husband. Why don’t you focus on my sister?”
I ground my jaw as West poured champagne from the bottle into his mouth.
“Do you even give a shit that your wife is being gossiped about all over the fucking internet?” I’d seen firsthand how dangerous that shit was with my sisters.
West shrugged. “She’s a big girl.”
I grabbed him by the collar. “Are you keeping track of the death threats?” I’m sure she was getting more than what I saw. I could only keep track of the public ones, and those were a lot.
West laughed. “You sound worried.”
“I am. She’s the fucking moon, and there are people out there who will snuff her out for no other reason than to bring her into their dark.”
West leaned closer, so when he spoke, only I could hear. “You know, I don’t know why you’re so obsessed, Crowne. I already took her virgin cunt. She was so tight too.”
Was he really going to brag about his rape? I fisted the fabric between my fingers and bit my top lip so I didn’t pound this asshole’s face into the marble.
“But she was always so eager to please.” Even though I was still holding his collar, West poured champagne into his mouth, a mocking gleam in his eye.
All right.
I quirked my neck, then swung.
“Grayson!” I heard Lottie calling for me to stop, but I was on top of him in a flash, pounding into his face until the blood from my knuckles mixed with his.
I think Lottie continued to yell at me.
I’m sure she did.
But I was too far gone.
I didn’t stop until Lottie ripped us apart. I stumbled back and West laughed. He was fucked up. He hadn’t fought back, and that twisted inside me.
I didn’t feel bad.
I felt…discomfort. I had pummeled his face until it shone with blood, but I didn’t feel any better, and West just laughed.
“What’s so fucking funny?” I asked.
“I won.” He laughed harder through his bloody teeth.
“West, just go,” Lottie implored. “Please, just go.”
West grabbed another bottle of champagne. “Happy Thanksgiving, bro.” He disappeared out the kitchen doors, chuckling.
“You don’t think it’s fucking weird?” I turned to Lottie. “He hasn’t been cut off. And he just up and married Snitch when—” When she got pregnant, I almost said. “After our marriage. He’s a fucking snake. This whole family is.”
“This whole family?” Lottie’s mouth dropped—fully dropped—and tears blurred her wide brown eyes.
I realized what I’d said—what I’d implied—too late.