Page 108 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
He ticked a finger, not bothering to keep his voice down. “You snuck into my parents’ house and fucked the wrong brother.” My face flamed, but I was shocked into silence. He spoke so loud. “You turned down a full ride to Duke with no valid reasons.”
Another finger.
“Do you understand how worried my mom and Reed would be if they saw you right now? Or do you simply not care about anyone but yourself? You look like you’ve spent the past century starving, and newsflash—it’s not hot, so you can stop now, Anorexia Barbie. That model has been discontinued. Virginia isn’t here to monitor your mouth. Act like an adult. Eat a fucking cheeseburger or ten.”
Three fingers.
“On top of being mouthy, you lie to your boss constantly.”
Four fingers.
“You took a job at Prescott Hotels that could go to someone who needs the money.”
Five fingers.
He ran out of fingers on the hand, but he kept going. Ruthless. “You are so starved for attention that you broke into my penthouse for a shower. You are untrustworthy. A Trojan horse determined to raze my empire to the ground. And now, like a silver-spooned, selfish princess, you are stealing a meal that could feed someone who actually needs it. I’d ask you why, but it would require caring enough to hear your excuse.”
If murder was legal, he’d probably strangle me right here. In front of everyone. Or maybe slice me open and hang me upside down to bleed out. He seemed like the type to take pleasure in slow torture.
And still, he had more to say. “I can’t even fathom how entitled you must feel that you—”
I cut him off, dipping my voice low, because unlike him, I understood civility, “I don’t recall signing up for this TED Talk. For your information, my trust fund gradually pays me. I get one million dollars a year until I turn thirty-one. Then I get two-hundred and fifty-six million dollars in a lump sum.”
He picked up that sad sliver of turkey with his bare hand—the same ungloved hand that touched the filthy money he gave Harlan—and tossed it onto my plate. Half of it landed on the counter, absorbing those germs. The other half landed on the mashed potatoes and gravy, splattering my shirt.
“How sad,” he bit out, no fucks given. “Only one million dollars. I feel so bad for you, sweetheart. Allow me to make a donation to the Billionaire Heiress Charity Foundation. I’ll address it to your nine-figure trust fund. Be sure to spare a few cents to someone who needs it more—literally anyone else in the world.”
Fumes trapped themselves inside my head. The type of anger that gripped my throat and shook the cords until I couldn’t speak a word. I swallowed the frustration and counted down from ten.
“You didn’t let me finish, asshole. Virginia is holding it above my head, blackmailing me every ten seconds and changing the stipulations of my trust.”
My hands shook. I clenched them together and hid them under the counter, because showing him he rattled me was absolutely not an option.
I didn’t care if money had always been a sore subject for him.
I didn’t care that his parents struggled to put food on the table.
I didn’t care that he hated overprivileged Eastridgers who possessed no gratitude for the security their wealth afforded them.
I didn’t care that poverty, my dad, and lack of healthcare killed Nash’s dad.
I wasn’t thinking of that.
I thought of my pride.
Of wasted nights spent tossing and turning over his touch.
Of the delicious lash his words formed against my skin.
Of the way he treated me like I was less than human for being a Winthrop.
Of the way I used to worship him only to be disappointed when he turned out to be a villain.
Of the way I still craved him.
Nash consumed me like the heart of a storm. I was trapped outside with no shelter, forced to endure the relentless battering with no control over when it would stop.
I didn’t choose my parents, but I could choose whether or not to bite my tongue, and I sure as hell would not.
