Page 92 of His Ruin
My gaze snaps to hers, hot possession flaring to life as she distracts me from eye-fucking her daughter across the house. “It was cold.”
Her rosy cheeks pull up into a wide, tipsy grin. “You know what I mean, Kaden.”
I rest my elbow on the cushion, pressing my cheek into my fist as I play nice. “Lots of cows, lots of time in an office, and lots of money.”
Lie.
Lie.
Truth.
First, I know fuck all about Montana. I wasn’t there for the last six years. Second, the only office I ever saw was Ivan’s. Finally, they don’t need to know how I get my income. That’s not exactly dinner talk.
“Are you not going to tell us what happened?” Dad asks in bewilderment.
My brows lift as my tone comes across playful and sing-song. “If I did, I’d have to kill you.” I smile through it, giving the illusion of a joke.
Mom bursts into a fit of giggles, pushing my shoulder. “You still haven’t lost your sense of humor. We’re just glad to have you back, kid.”
“Glad to be back,” my eyes crease, but I’m not paying attention to them. My ears are tuned to everything Melody is doing in the kitchen—her bare feet sliding across the marble, thetinkof her glass as she sets it down on the countertop, and the light humming sound she’s making to distract herself from me.
The terrace door slides open a moment later, revealingDylan. He’s tall and lanky, his thin limbs stuffed into a beige sweatshirt that cuts into a V-shape over his chest. His hair is spiked up from the harsh winds, and he runs a hand through it to dust the snow off of him.
He’s the fucking human embodiment of a user manual.
He notices me staring at him and offers a small smile. I let my hand fall behind the cushion of the sofa so that only he can see as I flick my middle finger up. His grin turns tight as his left eye twitches.
My lips tug upwards sweetly, and I tilt my head as if observing a well-behaved pet. My pointer finger joins my middle, and I use them to walk along the edge of the couch before dramatically making them tumble off.
Dylan’s face falls as he blinks at my knuckle. He’s become uncomfortable and stiff where he stands. “Is that Melody’s birthday?”
I pick up my fist, proudly showing off the ink I had refreshed just last year. “Yeah. What can I say? I justlovemy sister.” My eyes droop, becoming half-lidded and dangerous as they bore into the man across from me.
His jaw flexes; it’s a subtle movement, but one I notice in an instant. He’sangry. Oh, this is rich. Maybe I’ll get to break him mentally before I submerge his ridiculously big head under water and drown him.
He slides a hand across his mouth, muttering as he stalks to the kitchen. “I need another beer.”
“Grab one for Kaden and me,” Dad shouts, and my wicked grin grows to a Cheshire smile.
“Yeah,Dylan,” I parrot. “Grab me a beer, will you?”
His face is turning beet-red as he yanks the fridge open and snatches three cans. He hands them off to us, and I peer over at my sister to see her stillignoringme.
“Shouldn’t you be helping her?” I ask, my question low and dangerous asDylanplops down in Dad’s armchair like he fucking owns this house.
He glances into the kitchen, popping the top of his drink. “She knows what she’s doing.”
Mom frowns at him, her good mood dying a little. She’s quick to recover as she answers Dad, but I see it—the despondency. He’s upset, mother dearest, and it makes my plan all too perfect. He’s already a fucking disappointment. Might as well take advantage of that.
I stand, stretching out my back before leaning down to kiss Mom’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I got it.”
Her eyes soften into fondness. “Thank you, Kaden.”
I slide behind my sister, far too close with the miles of space available. My hands trail her hips lightly; it’s a chaste touch, one that’s enough to get her attention. She whips around, her eyes wild like a deer caught in headlights.
I smirk, taking the knife from her hands and setting my beer down on the counter. “Sous chef, reporting for duty.”
Her face falls a fraction, slipping into a breath of a somber song. I know she’s thinking of that night, but this new version of Melody is much stronger than the one I left behind. She doesn’t acknowledge me as she skirts wide around me and tosses the raw chicken into her pot on the stove. The light sizzle is the only sound as she stirs with her wooden spoon.
