“So! Photos!” Autumn grins, pulling a large —and what looks to be very heavy—
chest over toward her. I go to get up off my chair, wanting to help her because honestly, it looks heavier than her, when I hear Bryant’s voice from behind me.
“Mom…” he warns, and I cast a glance over my shoulder. Walking in with an unlit cigar between his fingers comes the king himself.
“Oh, Bryant. Leave us alone to talk gossip, and go back to your father.”
Bryant looks at me and then looks back to his mom. Can he read my mind? Can he see that I had a brief moment of sadness, thinking about his brother? How will I react when I see a photo of his brother? Will it set off a panic attack followed by a shit storm of drama as I unintentionally display my guilty memories for everyone to see?
“Come…” Bryant nudges his head toward the double porch doors, breaking through my slight panic. Everything sucks back into reality, and I look back at Autumn, not really wanting to leave her because I don’t want to come off as rude, but also, I sort of want to leave just in case that scenario I played out in vivid detail inside my head becomes a reality.
Yikes.
We can’t have that.
I plaster one of my go-to cute smiles at her, hoping she will maybe let me off the hook.
She rolls her eyes with (what I think is) a knowing smile. “Newlyweds. Don’t be too long. I have some good photos here.”
I stand to my feet. “Thank you for the tea, Autumn, I won’t be long.”
She smiles sweetly and then flips open an album, getting lost back in what I’m guessing is some of her most favorable memories. I’ve not thought about having children much, only because, well, I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.
Between cankles, the feeling of your guts and ovaries being ripped open and then your vajayjay literally getting ripped open, it lost its appeal. Not to mention mom friends…. Yeah, I don’t see how that would go down very well considering my favorite F word is ‘fuck’ and my second favorite F word is Friday because Friday usually means drinking followed by getting fucked.
Point being, I’d be a shit mom, so I’m doing the universe a favor, it would seem.
Bryant tugging on my arm brings me out of my reverie, so I follow him out the porch doors, the late afternoon sun kissing my skin instantly and the whispering sound of wind whirling between the branches of the trees.
“Why’d you save me from that back there?” I ask as we step onto the damp grass.
The entire outdoors in the back is set like some old English manor. Thick large shrubs line the vast paddock, and a large round fountain sits right in the middle.
Bryant shrugs. “Only seems fair, and I don’t really want Mom and Dad to know that my new wife was the person who murdered their son.”
I snap my mouth closed, just as a boulder-size ball of nerves sets at the core of my throat. “That’s not fair.”
He stops and then stares at me. His eyes scream authority. “A lot of shit isn’t fair, Isa, with the amount of time you use that line, it’s starting to lose its effect, but for argument’s sake, how so?”
I flinch, looking away from him. He’s right about the whole a lot of shit isn’t fair thing, and I wish I could give him a valid answer. “I don’t know, but I was sort of hoping that with us now married, the brother jabs would lessen.” There, that wasn’t so bad.
He disregards me with a lazy lip curl before continuing to walk toward the backyard.
“Can I ask you something?” I catch up to him before walking at his casual pace beside him.
“No.”
Nice try.
“Well, I’m going to ask you anyway…”
“Figured,” he mutters. He slows his walking pace, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Were you close to your brother?” He doesn’t flinch with my question, but he doesn’t answer either. We remain in silence until I see we’ve walked the entire space of the yard and now we’re right at where a pool house is built, tucked away discretely. It’s a little more modern than the main house which means it must be newer, and by the judge of the structure, a lot newer. It’s all glass walls, black marble, and more glass. Whereas the main house, well, I thought it was a sex torture chamber, so that says enough.
Bryant starts, heading toward the glass sliding doors and opening them. “No, we weren’t.” I exhale out a breath of air, all though I don’t know why I’m relieved from this revelation. Close or not, it was still his brother. I guess a small part of me was hoping… birds of a feather and all that shit…that he wasn’t like him.
I follow him into the pool house.
He must read my sudden relaxed expression because he scoffs, legit scoffs, while closing the door. “Just because I wasn’t close with him, does not mean I’m not a bad man, Isa. We were two different kinds of bad.”
If I weren’t so stubborn, I’d cringe right here because damnit it all, he can read my damn mind. “What kind of bad are you?” I ask teasingly, making sure my shoulder brushes against his hard chest as I prance past him.
I feel his chin brush over my shoulder as his breath touches the nape of my neck.
He leans into my ear. “The kind you can’t kill.” Then bites down on my shoulder roughly.
Yelp! This man is on a whole other level, but I smirk. “I could have fun trying,” I answer, looking at him over my shoulder. He narrows his eyes at me and for a few seconds, we stare at each other for a beat too long. My stomach clenches and my nipples harden and suddenly, I feel like the submissive girl he loves to play with all over again, but this, this is pushing the rules. I’m only submissive in bed—there’s no way I’d let him tell me what to do outside of the bedroom or where there’s no sexual shenanigans going on. Maybe I need to start some shenanigans. Breaking our eye contact, I look forward and see a lap pool and watch as the water glistens from the late afternoon sun setting on it. Glancing up, I see that the entire roof is clear glass, which gives you a direct view of the sky. I think it’s my favorite place of the house. I respect the character of the main house, but for some reason, out here feels a little less haunted. Around the pool, there are lounge chairs and canopies and directly in front of us, there’s a rectangular bar that overlooks everything.
“It’s beautiful out here.” I take in the glass walls, the glass ceiling and glass bar.
“Seriously, really beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Bryant agrees, stepping forward so that he’s beside me. “They wanted it after my brother went missing…”
I pause. “Missing?” I look at him.
He glances down at me. “Yes, missing. They don’t know that he’s dead. They think he’s missing.” He continues further into the pool house, heading straight to the bar.
I follow. “Huh. I guess I never asked how you managed to… you know, the body and stuff after…”
“And you won’t.”
“I won’t?” I question, pulling up a bar stool and taking a seat.
“No.” He uses his firm voice. Which I’m starting to think that he uses it a lot with me. “You won’t. The less you know about what happened after, the better.” He takes down a bottle of whiskey and grabs two glasses before walking back around and taking a seat beside me. He grips onto my chair, spinning me around to face him then proceeds to pour whiskey into each glass.
“We’re going to play a game.”
Oh Lord.
“Hmmm,” I tease, taking the glass he’s handing me. “What kind?”
He loses his tie and pops the first few buttons off of his collar, displaying the tip of what I know is a very ripped and very tanned chest. My mouth waters. I throw my leg over the other one to cross my legs in an attempt to calm the throbbing ache that has started in between my legs—