Page 38 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
I give her a practiced, easy grin. “I study. And I try my luck with women.”
She lets out a short, surprised laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she pauses, her expression shifting into a heavy, piercing stare. It’s the look of someone stripping away my layers.
"Mom?"
A soft voice interrupts the moment. And I’m grateful. It’s coming from a few feet away. I turn, and the breath leaves my lungs. Veronica Kayde. The last time I saw her was before her high school graduation. It seems like a lifetime ago. I knew from Gabe’s constant updates that she’s taken a gap year before college and that she spent most of her time making life a living hell for her security detail. Seeing her in person, though, is different. She has a presence that demands attention.
"Veronica, honey." Mrs. Kayde’s voice evens out as she gestures toward me. "You remember Camilo, don't you?"
Veronica’s eyes meet mine. "Of course," she replies, her voice like velvet. "The best friend." She ignores me, typical brat behavior.
“Mom, Tabitha and I are going to go soon,” she says, dismissing my presence. “We were invited to a party. But don’t worry, I won’t be home late.”
She leans in and presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she turns on her heel and heads toward the far side of the room. Her friend, Tabitha, is already there, impatiently waiting by the door. I watch her go, irritated at how she snubbed me. She knew I was there. She just didn't care. A couple of hours later, I decide it’s finally time to get out of here. Gabe has already vanished, summoned by the only person who holds that kind of power over him.
I find myself in a tense conversation with Mr. Kayde. He looks like he wants to kill me for the crime of having even the slightest physical contact with his wife earlier. I keep my tone respectful, nodding through his small talk until I can finally make my escape.
I hear a low mumbling coming from the side of the house, where the garden stretches out to overlook the ocean. The salt air is thick in my lungs as I follow the incoherent sounds. When I round the corner, I spot her.
Veronica is sitting right there on the grass. She’s ditched the long, formal party gown she was wearing earlier. In its place is a purple, skin-tight dress that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. She looks like a different person under the moonlight, less like a guarded heiress and more like trouble I should probably walk away from.
I approach her. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation she’s having with the flowers. She looks up and smiles at me. Unlike earlier, it’s welcoming. I don’t hesitate and sit down next to her. She turns to face me, notrealizing how close I am. I can see she’s been crying, and she smells of alcohol and weed.
“Enjoying the party?” she asks, followed by a wet sniffle.
“Yes. Though it looks like you enjoyed the after-party a bit too much,” I reply, glancing at her state. “What are you doing out here?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I live here, remember? And the after-party ended pretty quickly. At least, it did for me.” Her lower lip starts to wobble, but she bites down on it hard, fighting to keep her composure.
I’m horrible at small talk, but I give it a shot. Disregarding her rudeness from earlier, I ask her, “How’s the year off going?”
She stiffens at the question, her posture suddenly rigid. “Uh, it-it’s going great.” She plasters on a fake smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “I’m starting school next month.” She turns away then, her gaze drifting back to the flowers she was whispering to moments ago. “I haven’t even thought about a major yet,” she admits quietly.
Her phone rings, cutting through the sound of the waves, but she mutes it instantly. A second later, it vibrates with an incoming message. She glances at the screen, a flicker of something dark crossing her face, and powers the device off completely.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask.
“No.” She shoves the phone into the cleavage of her dress and plants her hands onto the grass.
She tries to push herself up, but the alcohol and the uneven ground betray her. She loses her balance, her body lurching toward mine. I instinctively reach out to catch her, but I’m too slow to steady her and too close to move away. She crashes into me, sending us both back. My head hits the soft grass with a muffled thud, and my hands instinctively land on her waist to break her fall. She’s draped over me now, her palms flat against my chest. I feel the warmth of her body burn through my shirt. Even in the cool night.
She doesn’t hesitate. She leans down, and then her lips are on mine. God, this is wrong. A voice in my head screams. I know I should stop this. She's Gabe's sister, completely off-limits. I should be the one to pull away, to put an end to this before it starts. But something holds me there, frozen in the moment. I feel her grinding on my cock. Fuck, it reacts to her body on top of mine.
She pulls away just enough for me to see her face, and that's when it hits me just how far gone she is. Her blue eyes are hazy, unfocused. I’m not "Camilo" to her right now; I’m just a body that happened to be here at the right moment. The realization infuriates me. The idea that she’d be doing this with anyone who sat on this grass makes my blood boil.
I grab her by the waist and firmly push her off me. “Desperation doesn’t look good on you, Veronica,” I snap, my voice harsh as I scramble to my feet.
I look down at her. She’s flushed, her lips swollen and red, her hair a chaotic mess against the green grass. My gaze travels down, and that’s when I see it. Nestled against the pale skin of her neck is a fresh, dark hickey. The anger shifts into something sharper. I reach down, grabbing her arm and pulling her up until she’s standing unsteadily in front of me.
“Who did that to you?” I demand, my finger hovering near the mark on her neck.
“I…I don’t know,” she stammers. The fake confidence is gone, replaced by a flicker of shame that she can’t quite hide. She can’t even stand.
“I’ll take you to your room. Let’s go,” I mutter, my voice tight.
I support her with an arm around her back as we walk to her room. We arrive just as her eyes start to flutter shut. I lay her down on the bed. She's asleep the moment her head touches the pillow. I pull her phone out of my pocket, where I placed it after finding it in the grass. I turn on the screen, and it's instantly bombarded with notifications, all from someone namedTony. I turn it off again and set it on her nightstand. As I leave the room, the image of the mark on her neck stays in my mind.
I close the door behind me when I hear someone call my name. “Camilo.”
