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“You need a bell,” I hiss, shoving the paperwork into a pile and closing the empty safe and locking it.
“Are you taking those?” she asks, pointing at the jewelry boxes.
“Yep, they’re matching diamond pendants so I’m guessing they’re ours anyway, plus I got our passports, birth certificates, and these pen drives.”
“Awesome. I have these,” she says flipping the photos around to face me, a huge smile plastered across her face.
My mouth falls open as I stare slack jawed at the pictures of our parents before they found Dr Hanson. “Oh my god, is that what Mom used to look like?”
“Yep, this is just plain, moderately rich Vanessa Williams circa 1981, and this is richer than god, but butt ugly Fredric Archibald before Mom sunk her claws into him and his inheritance,” she says, waving the pictures of our parents before their multiple plastic surgeries a few inches from my face.
A giggle bursts from me, and I pick up the stuff I’ve pilfered from the safe and push up to my feet. “We have to show these to the guys and figure out how we can get them leaked to the press while the MIA story is still live.”
“Absolutely, Mom will lose her mind when she finds out there’s pictures of her looking like this in the media,” she giggles.
“God, I wish we could be there to see her face when she sees them on the news,” I laugh.
“Hey guys,” Tally shouts as she dances down the hall to Dad’s office. “Look what we found.”
* * *
By the time midnight rolls round, we’ve informed every bank and investment firm that either Mom or Dad is involved with, that they’re dead. We’ve cancelled every utility and service for the house, listed all of the artwork and furniture on eBay, one day auctions starting at a dollar, and advertised a free house clearance on craigslist in two days’ time. It’s petty and childish, but with every small insignificant act of revenge we take, my smiles gets wider.
If I was a bigger person I wouldn’t need this rebellious act of vengeance, but I’m not, I’m an eighteen-year-old girl with more issues than the New York Times, and annoying the hell out of my parents because they’re assholes is awesome.
“Are we staying here tonight or going home?” Tally asks.
“Home,” I answer quickly, glancing at Carson and seeing the heated look in his gaze.
“Some of us should stay here in case the housekeeper comes back,” Arlo says, eyeing me and Carson with obvious amusement.
“You can stay, we’ll be back in the morning,” Carson tells him without taking his eyes off me. “Bag all this stuff up and we’ll take it with us just in case you guys end up leaving quickly,” he says, pointing to the piles of photos and paperwork we’ve amassed on the kitchen table.
By the time the town car Carson called pulls into the marina parking lot, it’s after 1am, but I’m not tired, I’m buzzing with energy. The driver helps us carry the two cases—one full of my belongings, the other full of all the stuff we stole from my parents’ house—up to the gangplank, but Carson waves off his offer of help to get it aboard the boat, and with a nod he turns and leaves.
“Do you want to unpack your stuff?” Carson asks as he drags my case into the bedroom.
“Nope,” I say throwing myself into him and claiming his lips with mine.
With a laugh he wraps his arms around me, lifting me into the air and immediately taking over the kiss, dominating me with his mouth. Melting against his touch I cling to him, ready for him to take complete control, because I know without thought that he’ll bring me more pleasure than I could ever imagine.
Pulling back, he lowers me to the floor and cups my cheeks in his palms. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, Priss, and I don’t see that ever changing.”
“I want you,” I pant.
“I want you too, but I told you I wouldn’t fuck you again until you understood that we’re not temporary. I’m falling in love with you, Carrigan, every fucking inch. The good, the bad, and the broken bits, I want it all. I know who you are, deep down inside all the shadowy bits of your soul, and I want you in spite of it and because of it. You’re mine Carrigan Archibald, but I want to be yours just as much,” he rasps earnestly.
Tears pool in my eyes but I try not to let them fall. His words are the most terrifying and amazing things I’ve ever heard and I want to be his and for him to be mine, but I don’t know if it’s possible, if I’m capable. “I’m scared,” I whisper.
“That’s okay, I’m fucking terrified.”
A shaky laugh falls from my lips, while I stare up at him, this guy, my enemy. Only has he really ever been my enemy? He helped me when I asked, he’s dealt with my drama and meltdowns, he’s chased me, fed me, protected me. He’s been there constantly, resolutely when he’s getting nothing out of this but me.
“What are you thinking, Priss?” he asks, his thumb gently stroking up and down my cheek.
“All you get is me.”
“All I want is you.”
