Dissenting grumbles echo through the room. Soren holds up his hands, taking a moment to get us to be quiet. But I can’t be quiet when he’s been conniving behind my back. Who the hell does he think he is?
“Listen—listen—” He glares at Lev and then me, eyes burning with a passion I’ve never seen in him. “I don’t particularly fucking like this either, but things are getting serious.” He looks at me. “Did you know Ophelia sold Alex’s virginity to your father?”
I recoil, disgust churning the minty liquor in my gut. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, she managed to convince Osmond to take her as a mistress—a fucking sugar baby. Alex is torn the fuck up over it. I’m torn the fuck up over it.” He pauses to slide his fingers through his hair. “So, one of us has to take her virginity. It’s the only chip we have to play here, boys. And it’s what will keep all of us in charge.”
“I don’t get it,” Tomas intervenes. “What’s Ophelia playing at?”
Soren shrugs. “I guess she thinks getting Alex out of her house faster means more money. I don’t fucking know. But if that happens, then we all get fucked. Get me?”
My expression sours as I focus on my drink, my hand curling so dangerously hard around the glass that spiderweb cracks appear beneath my fingers. “That fucking fiend.”
“She would probably still marry you,” Soren says, “but she would be—”
“Tainted.”
Like the maid. Like everything else.
What hasn’t my father stuck his pudgy fucking fingers in around this god-forsaken town?
Soren shrugs dramatically, swoops up his drink, and tips it back. “It’s a fucking nightmare. None of us have control over our lives. But this gesture will take it back.”
“And who do you propose should do this?” Tomas inquires. “Are we pulling straws?”
“Obviously, it should be me,” I bark. “She was promised to me first. I’ll fucking fight every single one of you to the goddamn death if I have to.”
Soren rolls his eyes. “Chill, buddy. We can talk it out.”
“And she agreed to this?” Tomas shakes his head, expression drooping. “I mean, if that’s what she wants…”
“Whatever it takes to protect her,” Lev cuts in. His grip on the counter is tight and his features are drawn taut, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s feeling betrayed. “There’s been a lot happening in that house lately. She needs to get out of there.”
“It’s in our best interest to protect our assets,” Soren states. He focuses on me. “Right, Parker?”
“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble while shoving the glass away from me. Soren catches it before it tips over the counter and then lifts it to inspect it. He shakes his head while I say, “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“So, how are we picking? There’s one cherry to pop and four of us,” Tomas observes. “Straws?”
“Fuck the straws, you goddamn freak,” I snap. “I should have her. Fair and fucking square.”
Lev sighs with annoyance. “Might as well do fucking rock, paper, scissors at this rate.”
Soren purses his lips thoughtfully, looks at each one of us, and then says, “She should choose.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I shake my head and chortle without any amusement. “She can’t choose one of us. She hates us.”
“Not as much as you think,” he retorts. “And maybe that’s our saving grace here. But if your father snatches up that hot tail in there and the fortune that goes along with it just because you can’t let a woman decide her fate, then you can just lie right down in the grave you dug, my friend.”
I hate that he has a point. I despise that my father has, once again, soiled something precious and pure that’s just for me. What do I have to do to convince her that I’m the right choice?
While Soren and the other two deliberate, I drift to the bathroom, locking myself inside the marble room with plush salmon towels, striped teal wallpaper, and unicorns sitting on every shelf. Soren’s grandmother has a thing for supernatural creatures. It’s weird, but she’s old, so she’s allowed to be weird.
Me? I’m not allowed to step out of line for a damn second. And I can’t imagine what my life will be like in a house where Alex is regularly getting nailed by my piggish father while my mother ignores the noise. Is that what I’m supposed to do? Ignore the noise?
Like hell.
My hand curls around the handle of the faucet. Would she like it? I twist the knob on its hinge, closing my eyes while listening to the water slosh into the porcelain basin. Would she yell his name? Wear pantyhose? Beg for him to come inside her tight little pussy? Rage bubbles in my chest as I place my hands under the faucet and meet the gaze of my reflection.