Page 138 of Vicious Little Snakes

He laughs.

“More like the owner’s wife threatened his life if he let them stick. And he might like his kid a lot. There’s also the part about feeling guilty for dropping the parenting ball.”

I stop opening the empty cabinets in search of food to give him my attention.

“We’re good, Dad. Really. And I swear I’ll get everything cleaned, but I’d like to leave it up until I can show Caroline. Seeing as my plans were ruined that night.”

“Done. When you’re back, I have a proposition for you. I know you are studying art, and that’s fantastic—”

I can’t help but laugh as he continues because he really is making a hell of an effort.

“—But I’d love you to learn about Brooks Industries by way of an internship—so that way when I’m dead and gone, you will be skilled in choosing someone to lead the company. Think about it, Liam.”

Study art and honor my family. It’s a fucking no-brainer.

“I don’t have to think about it, Dad. I’d love that.”

“We’ll talk soon, son. Your mother says to send Caroline her love.”

“Will do.”

The line disconnects, and I set my phone down because fuck if life doesn’t just keep getting better. Now I just have to convince my little jerk in the bedroom to stop doubting herself so that we can bask in our love and maybe go to the damn store for food. Because I’m fucking hungry.

* * *

“How about these?” I ask, holding up a box of crackers. “Are these good?”

“Amazing.” She smiles, browsing the spreads and dips.

I’d ushered her downtown almost the very moment she woke up. My stomach was growling, I didn’t get coffee, and I was fading fast. But I forgot what this place is like. Downtown isn’t the word. It’s more of a village with posh French bakeries, upscale markets flanked by five-star restaurants than a city with a corner store. But we needed food, and I couldn’t survive another day of snacking on leftovers.

So here I am browsing shit my mother serves during cocktail parties. I’ll die on this island. Why can’t they just have a fucking bodega?

“Who eats this?’ I ask, looking at the box of crackers she just approved. My head shifts around, glancing up and down the aisle. “Where do you think they keep the cereal? I don’t want these bland-ass crackers, Caroline. I need boy food—milk, Cocoa Puffs, Red Bull, Salt and Vinegar Lays. The staples.”

She laughs, “How would I know? I’ve never been inside this store—let alone done my own shopping, ever. The Real Housewives of New York I am not.”

I grab her hand, letting out a groan, dragging her behind me as I hold the basket with my other hand. We go down the next aisle, her laughing and me getting grumpier by the second until I see the familiar little bird on some packaging.

“Bingo.”

I grab three boxes of cereal and then look back, reaching for a fourth.

“Oh my God, Liam. How many boxes are you getting?”

She takes one out of the basket, putting it back, but I grab it tossing it back where I put it in the first place.

“Enough to keep me full.” My hand darts out, grabbing a handful of the front of her hoodie dragging her close to me. “I plan to take you home and fuck you for the rest of the day. I’ll need my strength.”

Caroline looks around as if she’s embarrassed someone might hear. Goddamn, she’s cute when she’s shy. But I don’t give a fuck if anyone does hear. Tightening my grip, I force her back against the stacks of cereal, bringing my face close to hers.

“Are you blushing, Carebear? Here I thought you’d like it if people watched.”

Caroline sucks in a breath as I let go of her hoodie and dip my hand down, further south until I skim over her leggings-covered pussy. She pushes against my chest, biting her lip.

“I’ll kill you. Quit it.”

“Make me,” I whisper back, sucking on her neck.