Page 31 of Match Me if You Can
“I bet you are,” Lex mutters, eyes back on my fiancée’s—my fake fiancée’s—legs, and I shoot him a warning glare.
“To rest,” I grit out.
He smirks, glances back down at his phone.
“Oh!” my mom exclaims, popping to her feet and nearly spilling her glass in her haste to set it on the coffee table. “I totally lost track of time. I’ll just grab out some extra towels and blankets for you guys and—”
“Mom”—I reach for her glass, plunk it back into her hand, nudging her down onto the couch—“I grew up in this house. I know where the towels and blankets are.”
“But what about shampoo?”
“I have shampoo, Mrs. Ambrose,” Violet says softly, gently, without a lick of ice. The same patient, mild way she’s been dealing with my mom since we stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac hours before. “But thank you very much. I’ll let you know if either of us need anything,” she says, neatly cutting off my mom’s next offer before it has the chance to emerge, but doing it nicely, deftly. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. Dinner was delicious.”
“I—”
I lean down, brush a kiss over my mom’s forehead. “Goodnight, Mom.”
“If you need anything—”
I take Violet’s hand, drawing her away from the room, away from my brothers—all except for Oakes, who’s staying with his soon-to-be wife at a nearby hotel.
That’s the pro move right there.
Eat. Escape.
Not have to deal with my mom’s chattering and my dad getting more and more annoyed and my brothers making snarky fucking comments with ever increasing frequency…only made worse by their gazes going to Violet’s legs over and fucking over again, no matter how often I make it clear I will murder them if they keep that shit up.
No fear.
No fucking respect.
And I need to get the fuck out of this room before I draw blood on day one.
I’m supposed to be civilized, to be the face of the Hawks, of that fragrance company who’s looking to pay me a shit ton of money.
Kind of hard to do if I’m sporting bloodied knuckles and a black eye—because I don’t trust that my brothers won’t gang up on me, and three-to-one (or four-to-one if Oakes is around) odds are shit.
I’ll get my licks in.
But so will they.
“Come on,” I mutter to Violet, moving toward the stairs, making her scramble to keep up with me, but unable to slow my pace.
Lex probably thinks I’m trying to get some.
The reality is, though, I just can’t stay in this room for another second.
It’s like the walls are closing in, the past is coming up and sucking me down. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t—
“Are you okay?” Violet whispers as she stumbles up the stairs behind me.
I abruptly let go of her hand, causing her to miss a step.
Then have to shoot my arm out, to catch her so she doesn’t tumble backward.
“No,” I mutter, dragging her up to the landing. “I’m not fucking okay.”
THIRTEEN
