Page 19 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
Ophelia touches manicured mauve nails to her throat and pulls them away to stare down at the bloodstains on her fingertips.
The house is silent, but for the faintest echo of a movie coming from upstairs.
“So,” Victor begins, taking my hand in his and sliding his thumb across his grandmother’s ring in the laziest, most sensual sort of way. Even with Callum, Hael, and Oscar positioned around the room with guns, with Ophelia’s black eyes staring at me, with Aaron’s tired-looking frown, I’m excited by it. Pretty sure that’s Vic’s intention, anyway. “Mommy dearest, we both know you can’t really have me killed—despite my jokes to the contrary.” Victor looks down at me with a soft expression on his face. If it actually reached his eyes, it might be cute. “If I die before receiving my inheritance, the whole pot goes to charity.”
My brows go up as I look toward Ophelia. For someone bleeding by the neck, she looks remarkably regal in her satin gown.
“So … to lose the money to your mother, you have to fail to graduate or move out of your dad’s place then?” I ask and Vic grins.
“Or get divorced,” he adds, and then he throws back his head and laughs.
“Or commit a felony,” Ophelia adds, crossing her arms under her breasts and looking around the room at the other Havoc Boys. “Which I’m fairly certain you’ve just done. Tom, finish your drink and let’s go.”
Aaron moves forward with the knife, but Victor waves him away.
“Tit for tat, Mommy. You’re apparently involved in a child sex-trafficking ring.” Victor runs his fingertips over the necklace on my throat and steps back. He tucks his tattooed fingers in his pockets as Ophelia stares at him with a face as cold and impassive as Oscar’s. My eyes flick over to the man in question, but he just seems bored with the whole scenario.
As if he can sense me looking at him, Oscar’s gray eyes find mine and we end up staring at each other. Does he remember being inside of me? Does he know how deep he cut me by running away? Instead of getting pissed off at everything, I need to learn to listen to my emotions.
Oscar’s attitude is making me sad.
So fucking sad.
I’ve been voiceless for so long that when I realized I could speak out, I went in the opposite direction. Every little thing out of my mouth has been dripping vitriol and rage. After all, I have a lot to hate these boys for. I can’t see inside their heads; I’m not a mind reader. I need to open up a dialogue with them.
I look back at Ophelia.
“All your fancy friends, too, I’ll bet,” I say, letting that vitriol and hate I was just talking about spill across my mouth. Why direct it at the guys when I have other targets? “You won’t say anything about this. You’ll leave this house and start a new plot against Victor. Why don’t you go now and start planning? You’re fucking up our honeymoon.” I let my smile turn into a white-toothed grin. Like husband, like wife. “Thanks for the necklace, by the way. It’s lovely.”
Ophelia smiles at me, the expression a match for mine. She hates her son almost as much as I love him. I say almost because there is no touching this toxically beautiful thing that Victor and I have.
“We have an entire year to play games with each other,” Ophelia purrs, leaning in close enough that I can smell her perfume, like coffee, vanilla, and white flowers. Some expensive fragrance, no doubt. “I’m looking forward to it.” She quite literally snaps her fingers as she stands up and Tom stumbles to do her bidding, shoving his empty glass back in Coraleigh’s hands as he scrambles to keep up. “Come along, David.”
David—one of the only two guys outside of Havoc that I ever slept with—shoves up to his feet, casting me one, last, strange look on his way out the door.
“What the hell was that about?” Hael asks, pointing between the front door and my face. I glance back at him, trying to school my expression, but I must be a terrible poker player because he narrows his brown eyes on me. A bit of jealousy sours his expression, but I don’t … dislike it. Is that wrong?
Even if it is, I don’t give a shit.
“Bernadette fucked that guy,” Victor says, lighting up a cigarette and giving me an inscrutable sort of look. “That sweet cunt of yours better not get us into trouble the way Hael’s dick has, or I swear to god, I’m off to Fiji and I’m never coming back.” He gestures in Coraleigh’s direction with his head. “Callum, let her use the bathroom and then tie her up again. We’re going to stay the weekend.”
