Page 9 of Vicious Little Snakes

That garners a smirk. Grey taps the table raising his brows. “Don’t toot your horn too much. I’ll start to think you want me to like you.”

“Like me? Never. I’m a monster. A horrible sister.”

“The worst.” He winks. “Speaking of family, have you heard from your gold-digging mother?”

“No. I expect Vivienne will stay hidden until after my birthday. God knows she wouldn’t want anyone to witness her as a degenerate parent.”

Grey’s shoulders shake with a laugh as I take another sip of my ginger tea.

We drift into a comfortable silence. I like it when Grey’s home. This place feels as empty as it is massive when I’m here alone.

Grey reaches out, nabbing a croissant. “You’re especially wicked today. Almost happy. Did you fuck another staff member? Kill a puppy? Bring down a princess somewhere to ensure your golden ticket to that fucking Ball?”

I roll my eyes.

The International Debutante Ball is the most significant and prestigious introduction into society. Forty girls received invitations for consideration—an interview that narrows the list to the final chosen twenty-four. Anyone not on that list had to submit an application, along with a hundred other hopefuls, for the chance into contention. I applied.

My power comes in my associations, not my name. Everything I achieve, I claw and maim to attain.

“Please shut up. Since when are you interested in the Deb Ball?”

“Since I’m dating someone on the short list.” He goes back to his paper. “You’ll have to clue me in on what’s expected of me. I managed out of escorting anyone until now.”

Of course, Donovan received an invitation. Of fucking course. I bet she was the committee’s first fucking call. It’s like the devil’s just sitting in hell laughing at me. Cunts, both of them. There goes my good mood.

“Ask Kai. I realize my dick is typically bigger than yours, but you’ll have to do your own research this time.”

He coughs, slapping his chest. “Jesus, Caroline. Do you have an off switch?”

My lips thin before I slap my palms down on the table. “You should stop making everything about you. First, with my birthday. And now with the Deb thing.”

He could at least pretend to be contrite. But he’s Grey.

My eyes narrow. “I’m going to need some fawning and petting right about now. And make it good.”

Grey laughs, shaking his head, “That’s more of a Liam job. I’m the asshole brother, remember?”

Just the mention of Liam’s name shuts my mouth. Liam and I haven’t spoken since last week—when I eavesdropped on him. I know he’s mad that I schemed, that I hurt Grey and Donovan. I bet that a tiny bit of Liam even blames me for being the loser in the Donovan games.

And he’d be right to. Who knows how much longer it would’ve taken her to see what we all saw—it may have been long enough for Donovan to fall just a little bit deeper for Liam.

The thought makes me sick.

Liam and I have been many things to each other over the years, but we’ve always been something to each other—crushes, bullies, allies, friends, but never enemies. Naively I thought he’d forgive me the moment I apologized, but I’m still waiting.

“I said I was sorry, Liam. For fuck’s sake, I brought the fucking cherry for Grey to top. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“No. Sweeping up the ashes doesn’t erase the fact you set it all on fire.”

I don’t mean to be myself so often, but of all people, he knows that. Grey looks up from the attack on his food, noticing my silence.

“You two haven’t made up?”

Where the fuck have you been? Oh, wait—inside Donovan.

“I thought he was your best friend. Why are you asking me?”

The clink of the fork has me avoiding the glare that I can feel burrowing into my skull.