Page 73 of The Perfect Wrong

I’m sure I look like I’m staring at a speeding bus, frozen in my tracks, mentally locked on the very real idea that I’m going to be spending time with himalone,far from home.

“I know this is rather abrupt, dear,” Dad says. “You’re an adult, of course. If you don’t want your stepbrother tagging along, I’m sure we can figure out a compromise. An alternate itinerary for both of you because I’d still like to send him on a trip.”

“Nah.” Chris turns to face my father, slicing a thick hand through the air. “Bruce, don’t worry about it. I’ll give her as much space as she needs. Separate rooms. One good dinner and a few drinks are all I need anyway. She can check in whenever she wants. Believe me, I’ve got my own plans. I haven’t been to Vegas in years.”

I shake off the shock and walk toward them.

“Guys, it’s fine. It’s doable. I guess I’m just...surprised,” I admit dryly.

One look at Chris grinning leaves me reeling.

If there was ever a smile that’s equal parts hungry and happy...

Oof. It’s amazing how he must’ve evaded death a dozen times, yet still has his teeth set in a smile so flawless it makes me tingle.

Worse, it makes me wonder.

What would that perfect mouth with the wicked tongue feel like between my thighs?

I press my knees together, desperately trying to blunt the dull ache in my core.

Hopeless.

Jesus, how in the flying monkeybutt do Isurvivea week in Vegas with this man?

“Thrilled to hear you say that, honey! I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” Dad beams at me before he looks at Chris again.

Oh, Dad.

Oh, Dear Lord, if only you knew.

“...make sure you leave enough time for breakfast before you hop on the jet tomorrow.” He’s talking to Chris when I tune back in. “My little girl always gets hangry as a tiger when she’s traveling on an empty stomach. And please don’t worry about your mother, Chris. I’ll look after her.”

Chris’ face darkens for the first time as he says, “Don’t baby her. She can take care of herself, Bruce.”

“She’s my wife,” Dad throws back. “I’ll do whatever helps her. I’m sorry things have been rocky lately. She’s just worried about her family, and I can hardly blame her for that. Surely, you two getting along so well will help set her at ease.”

I can’t breathe.

My stepbrother just snorts.

“Oh, yeah? Is that the shit sandwich she’s been feeding you? Damned chameleon, that’s what she is. I’m sorry you don’t see it yet, but you will. She’ll say whatever keeps the coin flowing. Money and attention were always her worst binge drugs.”

Yikes.

I shrink back against the wall, feeling the color draining from my face. Lines of confusion creep across Dad’s polite expression.

He rubs his fingers together.

He’s obviously upset, but he’s too diplomatic. Too nice.

The man is rarely confrontational, especially when there’s no way to win.

I shudder, remembering how it took him months to confront my cheating mother, even when the evidence was all over the house. I overheard the staff gossiping about the gifts she’d get and used condoms they never bothered to hide.

Just once, I wish Dad would grow a spine.

Get angry.