Page 88 of Merciless

“You’ve had three glasses of scotch since we sat down.” I force a smile. “I think I’ll be fine with my one glass of champagne, Mr. Edwards.”

His thick eyebrows slash down as he narrows his eyes. “You’re a feisty girl. You remind me a lot of my wife when she was young and beautiful.”

“Was?” I say.

I glance at Barbara, who’s sitting beside him. She watches us with a blank face, but I catch the fire in her gaze, though the blaze is dim. Probably from having to deal with this old man who doesn’t know how to keep his nose out of other people’s business.

Albert leans into me, once again invading my personal space. “She was beautiful. But you still have your youth. Don’t waste it on poison.” He glances at my empty glass.

I lean back until I’m bent to the side because he’s still invading my space.

“Shut your mouth, Albert,” Barbara says with a roll of her eyes. “And get out of the girl’s face.”

Jesus Christ, why do men do this? He looks thrilled that he’s making me uncomfortable.

I don’t have to look at the other men at the table to know they’re watching. They all prefer to sit in silence because they see nothing wrong with this behavior.

Raising my chin, I scoot my chair back and stand. I don’t excuse myself, because they’d expect that. I leave the table and head toward the exit.

Ashleigh turns her head, her gaze locking with mine. She sneers at me from across the room and flicks her sandy-blonde hair over her shoulder. Turning back to my mother, she continues the conversation as if she’s the daughter.

Maybe she is. Maybe I really am the outcast everywhere.

Fuck it. I don’t care right now.

My phone vibrates as I head toward the clubhouse exit. Icy dread freezes my veins. I pull my phone out and read the message.

Unknown Number

What will the school think when they find out you opened your legs for your stepbrother?

Another message pops onto the screen.

Or how about your parents?

*Attached image*

I click on the picture, and I fumble my phone, catching it before it falls. My mother’s phone number is at the top in the screenshot. The same picture of Elijah and me in the shower is attached at the bottom, ready to send to her.

It’s not sent, but the thread is there.

Eden

What do you want?

For you to suffer.

Why?

That’s for you to figure out on your own. Think very hard, slut.

I don’t know you.

Are you sure?

My eyebrows furrow together.

Do I know him?