The Beast (Wicked Villains 4)

Cordelia, being Cordelia, doesn’t meet us in the foyer. She makes me go hunting for her in her study. I’m tired. My feet hurt. My whole body hurts. The last thing I want to do is go a round with my older sister.

I walk through the door and stop short. Both of my sisters are here. Because of course they are.

Muriel slides past me and pauses to give Cordelia a kiss before she takes up her usual position to one side of the bay window on the other side of the study. Sienna lounges on the small sofa situated to the side of the deck in an informal kind of sitting room, a book on some advanced scientific theory I’ve never heard of open across her stomach. She gives me a finger wave. Cordelia leans against the massive desk at the center of the room, as tense as if she’s ready to charge into battle.

She sweeps a look over me. “You’re walking. I wasn’t sure you would be.”

That’s about enough of that. “I had everything under control.”

“Did you?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I sent you there to talk to them, and the next update I get is you in Gaeton’s bed, obviously having been fucked with. I don’t think you had a single damn thing under control. I think they saw an opportunity and they took it, and you felt too guilty to do anything but go along with it.”

I love my sister. I do. I would take a bullet for her. But sometimes I want to shake her until some sense falls into that big head of hers. I give her a long look. “Oh, were you done? I was really enjoying you telling me how I felt and what happened with me even though you weren’t there.”

“Don’t take an attitude with me, Izzy. You would have made the same call if our positions were reversed.”

I shoot a look at Muriel. “Funny, your wife said the exact same thing in the car. You’re both wrong. I would have trusted you to tell me if you needed help.”

“I couldn’t afford to make that mistake.” She runs her fingers through her long dark hair and grips it briefly before letting it go. There was a time when Cordelia dealt with stress by pulling out her own hair, but years of therapy have helped her acquire healthier coping mechanisms. She seems to forcibly lower her hands. Muriel moves up behind her, clasping her hands gently. Cordelia leans back against her wife, but accepting that comfort doesn’t make her appear any less fierce. “We just lost him. I can’t lose you, too.”

Just like that, my anger drains out of me. How can I be mad at her about this when we’re all so messed up for the loss of our father still? Short answer: I can’t. Muriel moves out of the way right as I walk around the desk and pull Cordelia into a hug. “I’m fine. I’m here. I was never in any danger.” Not in any physical way, at least. The jury is still out on my heart.

“I’d kill them myself,” she murmurs, hugging me hard enough that I have a difficult time drawing in oxygen. “I don’t care if he loved them, too. If they hurt you, I’d kill them slowly.”

I pat her back. “No need for killing. I’m here. I’m safe.” I lean back and look at her. “I’m safe.”

“You’re safe,” she finally agrees.

“Just really well-fucked,” Sienna calls from the couch.

Cordelia narrows her eyes. “I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me you were in contact with her.” She turns that look on me. “And that you were taking her calls and not mine.”

I shrug. “It was for science.”

“For the love of—” She walks to the couch and drops on the cushion near Sienna’s feet. “You two are terrible for my blood pressure.”

“The role of younger sisters worldwide.” Sienna sits up a little, her dark eyes alight. “Want to know the results of my algorithm? I was going to email you, but Cordelia had you brought in so this is so much simpler. It’s fascinating really.”

If I let her get going, we won’t be leaving this office for hours. I hold up my hand. “I don’t need the algorithm. I—”

“Choose them both,” Sienna finishes for me. She grins like a kid on Christmas morning at my dumbfounded look. “That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it? That you’re going to be a delicious little throuple?”

“I …” I motion vaguely at her. “How …”

“I told you.” She looks so smug, I want to hit her in the face with a pillow. “Science and math and a little bit of finesse.”

I shouldn’t ask. I truly shouldn’t. “Your algorithm said I would choose them both?”

“No, don’t be absurd. That wasn’t a possible outcome.” She waves that away. “But every time I ran the information, it came out a little differently, and no matter what tweaks I put into place, the percentages were startlingly close. Either there’s something wrong with my work—highly unlikely, but I can’t ignore the possibility—or the best decision is both.” She stares off into the middle distance. “I do need more information for the components to allow for multiple partners in an accurate way.”