Page 55 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“That was… wow. Does that count as getting into it?” Reno and I both look to Miele, who pushes her hair out of her face.

“Um… technically, yes. But I think the rules of the pool state words have to at least be said. Reno, you’re out.”

They argue about technicalities as they follow Snow out of the room, leaving me standing there, probably looking as dumb as I feel.

I don’t understand shit like this. Even in my hey day, when my stable was bursting at the seams, women never… pissed all over me.

My stomach begins to curl into itself. And the one time I need this nigga Fredo to appear, he’s nowhere to be found.

“Great, I’m on my own,” I mutter, snatching up her suitcase and walking toward her guest room.

Which is in between Mars’s and Snow’s room.

Shit.

The scraping of silverware is grating my nerves. I doubt Ju is doing it on purpose, but I know Snow is. She smirks every time I cut my eyes at her, but she won’t leave.

Mars requested it.

The cousins wanted us all to eat together, to best gauge the pool. Ju told Mars she just wanted to eat with him, making his whole week.

But then Ju invited me to their “special” dinner.

And then, Mars drug Snow into the dining room we don’t use and Ju visibly pouted.

But Mars doesn’t notice any of the tension in the room. He carries the conversation effortlessly, filling Ju in on everything she has missed since she was here last.

In between bites of chicken, he tells her story after story about what he’s learning and the different fish and animals he sees.

And how he loves when Snow does his hair and tells him stories of Fredo.

That was when Ju told him to finish his food. And now it’s been quiet for the last five minutes.

I feel like I’m supposed to say something or diffuse the situation, but what the fuck is even going on? I’m not fucking neither one of these women, and one of them, I’ve never fucked.

So I’m really not getting it.

Mars scoots his chair from the table and asks Ju to help him get ready for bed, and my shoulders ease some. As soon as they’re out of the dining room, Snow clanks her fork onto the half-empty plate.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time. Did you fuck that girl?”

I lean back in my seat and nod to the knife in her hand. “What you gon’ do with that, Snow?”

She grins, eyeing my new scar. “Oh, Rico. You know exactly what I can do with this.”

“Why you care so much? You ain’t fuckin’ me.” I fold my arms over my chest and call her bluff. That’s easier than trying to explain some shit I’m clueless about.

“I care about you lying to me. But you fucked Tiny, so fucking Fredo’s baby mama isn’t that surprising–”

I’m out of my chair and closing in around her so fast that she lets go of the knife to place that soft hand in the middle of my chest.

Her touch does nothing to calm the ire growing in me by the second.

She’s so fucking infuriating. Who gave her the code to pushing my buttons?

She recovers quickly, her eyes dancing between my lips, my eyes, and the scar she gave me. I wondered if she ever felt guilt, but watching her nipples harden under her shirt, I see what marking me really does for her.

My Snow. She may not be as depraved as me, but she has her little quirks.