Page 7 of The Sinner's Bargain
“And a lamp?” She was staring at the warm, golden halo of light barely visible in the brightly lit room. “Are you still sleeping with a light on?” She whirled to face me, murderous outrage, crimson patches blazing beneath her cheeks. “Are you a child? Will you beg Jarrett to leave the light on for you because you’re afraid of the dark?” The more she spoke, the higher her voice seemed to become as if the sheer audacity of my fears were a personal attack. “Are you truly that pathetic? How could I have raised such a sniveling, useless brat? Afraid of the dark at twenty. I’m mortified. I will never be able to show my face in public again when this comes to light, and it will when Jarrett sends you back humiliated. The laughingstock of our social circle.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d been so careful. Between the cupcake and the lamp, I could feel the rising tide of panic building in my chest. I knew I would be seeing the box even before I heard the violent crack of heels as she stalked back to where I stood. Her rage twisted into the air, wrapping and bleeding until there was nothing but the hot burn of her anger filling my lungs. The skin of my cheek prickled seconds before I felt the violent crack of her palm.
Stars exploded in a shower of yellow sparks across my vision as bells screamed between my ears in a roar of pain. Tears I’d been fighting back skated over scalding flesh, angering Mother further.
“Stupid, worthless girl!”
I sensed the second slap without even seeing her arm lift, but the blow never landed. Her square palm with its long, skeletal fingers and crimson talons dangled over me, a promise of justified hatred, but Mother’s focus was pulled to something over my shoulder.
Malcolm, disheveled with day old stubble darkening his jaw stood in the doorway, a wild look of fury in his blue eyes, eyes that were trained on Mother.
He was still in his suit from the night before. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up, the material creased beyond repair.
Without a word, he moved deeper into the room, bare feet making no sound as he came to a stop next to me.
“That’s enough, Mother.”
The claws curled into a bony fist before it was pulled back. Her thin lips pinched to mirror the displeasure in her eyes.
“This doesn’t concern you, Malcolm. You should be getting dressed. Don’t you have a meeting this morning?”
“My meeting won’t start without me. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Only Malcolm had the courage to speak to Mother that way. She would never touch him. He wouldn’t allow it. She had no power over him, nothing she could take and use to hold him hostage. He was the male, Blackwell heir. He had his own wealth. His own life. Even my clothes weren’t my own. I owned nothing, not even my body.
“I came to check to make sure your sister was ready for her trip. Instead, I find her stuffing her face like some gutter rat.”
Malcolm’s gaze dropped to the crushed scatter of crumbs around our feet and the smear of chocolate on my feet before drafting up to eye the dark stain at my abdomen.
“A cupcake?” He settled on our mother once more. “You’re angry because she had one cupcake from our birthday?”
Twin blotches appeared in Mother’s cheeks. “This has nothing to do with you. I will not explain myself. What matters is that we are about to become a part of the Brixton family and we can’t have Jarrett seeing her getting rolled up the aisle because she’s too much of a pig to control what she stuffs into her hole. No man wants to take a blimp to bed.”
“Naya isn’t a blimp or a pig, Mother. She’s perfectly fine, and Brixton has waited since she was fourteen, I doubt he’d turn her away now.”
“You can’t know that. This is a delicate situation we never would have had to deal with if you hadn’t—”
“What?” Malcolm challenged coldly. “If I had let you sell my sister’s vagina?”
Color flared hot in Mother’s cheeks matching the heat I could feel flood my own face.
“That is a vile word, Malcolm. A gentleman would never use it, and Jarrett was willing to wait until Naya was sixteen if you had just—”
“Here’s the difference between you, me and Brixton, Mother. I have morals and I love Naya. I will always protect her.”
“From what?” Mother exclaimed. “Jarrett isn’t a monster. He’s not going to eat her. How can you not see how lucky she is because of me? I have secured all our futures. Your precious sister is going to be the most envious and spoiled woman in the world, which is why everything has to go perfectly. Jarrett must be made happy.”
“Have you considered marrying the guy? You seem—”
Mother’s eyes widened with horror. “How dare you speak to me in such a disgraceful manner? I will be talking with your father.” Without waiting for a response, Mother stomped to the door. She paused only briefly to send me a withering glower. “Get dressed.”
Then, she was gone, and Malcolm turned to me. His blue eyes took me in, lingering longer on my burning cheek.
He pulled me into his chest, uncaring of the chocolate stain now soaking into his white top.
“Are you hurt?” he asked into the top of my head.
I shook my head because I knew I could never lie to him. “I should have known better.”