Page 106 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
I was a Matryoshka doll. He kept peeling at my shells, and I wanted to stop him before he reached the center and realized nothing existed inside of me but air and things that vanished.
One.
Two.
Three seconds was how long it took for him to sneer at me, then turn back to the kid he had been serving as if he didn’t know me.
“That was odd,” Maggie whispered before Stella skipped in front of Nash, taking the kid’s place. “I’ve never seen him do that. You don’t know him, do you?”
“No.” I couldn’t muster up the guilt that usually accompanied my lies. “Never met him in my life.”
“Hmm…” A hint of a smile ghosted her lips. She watched Harlan tell Nash about the dog he’d witnessed peeing all over someone’s leg this morning. Humanity suited Nash, but so would a trash bag. “I think he’s hotter when he looks angry. I swear, I have goosebumps all over my body.”
Me, too.
That was the worst part.
I always had goosebumps around Nash. I didn’t know when that had started, but I needed it to end. For starters, he had seen me naked three times and hadn’t wanted me any of them.
Nash had turned me down so many times, I had no clue why I still craved him like an addict. He boasted the personality of a rabid dog in heat. And if that wasn’t enough, he was probably getting head in the back of a crowded movie theater around the time I learned to brush my teeth.
“Hi, Nash!” Stella reached a hand out toward Nash, wiggling her fingers. “Where’s my toy?!”
“Stella!” Maggie clutched onto her shoulder and crouched down. “You can’t demand things from people like that!” She glanced at Nash, an apology in her baby blues. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where she learned that.”
“But Mommy!” Stella swung side to side, flicking her attention between Nash and Maggie. “Nash says if I want something, I have to demand it. I don’t want to be a little britch about things.”
“Bitch,” Nash corrected, and I wondered if he was born without any tact or if it had abandoned him after his first birthday. “Not britch.”
“Oh,” Maggie breathed out, her nosed bunched up like she had caught a whiff of something bad. “One—we don’t curse. At all. Ever. Two—that is not true. We don’t demand things from people. If it’s a reasonable request, we ask politely or we don’t ask at all. Three,” she shifted her focus on Nash, “that’s all on you, Nash. I rescind my apology. In fact, I think I might expect one.”
Nash smiled at Maggie.
Actually smiled at her.
As in, that nice thing civilized humans did.
Something I refused to call jealousy lashed at my throat, making it difficult to breathe.
Stop, Emery. You don’t own him. You don’t even like him, and he definitely doesn’t like you.
As Nash smiled at Maggie, I decided I didn’t like his smile.
I liked his scowl.
His sneer.
His scars.
Even his indifference.
I liked his ugliness.
The slash of his words.
The pain infiltrating his bloodstream.
I liked the parts no one else but me could see, because against all odds, I had fleeced secrets out of him, and now they were mine, too.
