Like she hadn’t ruined my fucking life. She had done nothing short of destroy my family and force us into a homeless shelter. Her lie ripped us apart. It ended my parents’ marriage. She didn’t deserve to be here, to enjoy the fucking hors d’oeuvres or drink the wine.
No, she deserves heartache, and I hope like hell, that she doesn’t plan on staying, because if she does, I’m going to break her, destroy her. I’ll send her back to wherever the fuck she came from crying, and she’ll think twice before crossing paths with me again.
Tonight I’ll give her a warning, the one and only time I will show her an ounce of mercy. Her mother may have weaseled her way into my father’s life but there is no way in fucking hell Ava’s going to find her way back into mine.
Stepsister or not, she’s dead to me.
She was dead to me the night she lied about me to her father.
A few minutes later, I leave the backroom of the clubhouse and sneak back into the reception without even a second glance from any of the patrons. I’m sure no one even noticed I was gone. They’re all much too busy gushing over Laura and her designer dress to care about me and my explorations.
Not that it would matter if they were, my father isn’t paying me any attention today anyway, matter of fact, ever since he started dating Laura a few months ago, he hasn’t paid me a lick of attention. I try not to dwell on it. It’s not like I’m a child anymore who needs his father’s affection left and right. I just don’t want Laura getting any ideas.
My gaze sweeps around the room, it looks like a bridal magazine had a baby with pink glitter in the reception area. There’s a sculpture of a swan carved from ice near the bar that’s puking wine and I can’t comprehend why my father would spend money on all this bullshit.
My eyes clash with Clark’s. Best friend and confidant, he’s been there through it all with me. Besides Ava, he’s the only one who knows me. A year after Ava left, he showed up with his father after losing his mother to cancer. We didn’t like each other right away but shared a mutual disdain for life. It was cruel and we were bearing the brunt of all of its wrongdoing. Crossing the room, I come to a stop right in front of him.
“You look like you just got laid.”
“I’ll never kiss and tell.” I give him a cheeky smile.
“No, you just fuck and tell, which means you got your dick sucked.”
“You know me so well.”
Clark shook his head. “A beer, my friend?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I grin, taking the beer from his extended hand. We’re just shy of drinking age, but no one gives a shit and we’ve done worse things than underage drinking before. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I take a long pull of the beer and turn around surveying the room. The cold beer cools my heated inside. I can’t stop myself from seeking her out. It’s almost like we’re magnets being pulled toward each other, the pull too intense to break.
“She’s pretty,” Clark says nonchalantly.
Pretty? She’s gorgeous, out of his league but she’s like poison, killing you slowly.
“Don’t let her pretty face fool you. She’s also a master manipulator and the enemy, the fact that she has a pussy makes her even more dangerous. She’ll fuck you if she has to get what she wants, guarantee it. So, please, don’t go there, Clark.” My fingers grip onto the beer bottle, tightening.
“Whoa, that sounds a lot like jealousy, Van. Are you jealous?” His voice is teasing, light, and I glare at him in response.
He’s trying to stir the pot and as much as I usually like his antics, tonight isn’t a good night for that shit. I’m not jealous of Clark hooking up with Ava, in fact, I don’t give a fuck who he sticks his cock in. The lying bitch can get her heart broken for all I care. But that’s all I’ll let it be is a quick fuck.
“Jealousy isn’t what I would call what I’m feeling. It’s more like burning fiery rage. I want to hurt her,” I murmur, turning my attention back toward our guests.
I drink Ava in like she’s a glass of water and I’m near death from dehydration. She’s stunning, her silky brown hair falls in soft curls down her back, framing her delicate heart-shaped face. Her skin is creamy white without a single blemish. She looks like an actual princess, delicate, fragile. Her full lips are painted blood red, but her eyes look innocent, which is funny since she’s anything but that.
“Maybe fucking her would help then?” Clark suggests, and my face deadpans.