“I’m not sure what this has to do with me,” I point out.
“For once, she says something I agree with,” Michelle snaps.
Bite me, bitch.
“I’d prefer not to give anyone else something to put in their mouths,” Asad continues. “When we walk into that repast, we’re going to at least appear like a family unit. Since everyone in this muthafucka is an expert at faking shit, that shouldn’t be a big ask.”
Appear like a family unit? Not a big ask?
The fuck?
I wasn’t even allowed to sit with them during my father’s funeral or graveside service, but he’s concerned about a united front now? Granted, not many people outside of House of Cross’s board and a handful of employees knew I existed. Still,theyknew. And no matter how… complicated my relationship was with Marcus, these bitches could’ve allowed me that. But they didn’t. Andnowhe wants to include me?
Michelle and Asad have treated me like curated shit from the day they darkened the foyer of my childhood home. Kareem was… the lesser of two evils. Not evil like his mother and older brother, just… timid. When it came to standing up to them, well, he never did. And nothing has changed in thirteen years.
And Asad actually thinks requesting I pretend this trio of sociopaths is family isn’t abig ask?
Why not ask Nick Cannon to get a vasectomy, too?
“Yes, it is, Prince,” Michelle hisses. “I don’t understand—”
“Hold that thought, Michelle,” I interrupt, lifting up a finger. She leans forward, eyes glittering, body damn near vibrating with rage at my disrespect, and her hand slightly rises as if she’s about to slap fire out of me. I wish a muthafucka would. She’d find I’m not the same teenager who had to live and breathe that “turn the other cheek” shit. Try that, and she would find out I’m more of the “flip a fucking table” scripture follower. “You’re going to have to explain to me like I’m three because I still don’t understand what this has to do with me. I’m just a scientist inthe cog of the machine,” I say, trying and failing to keep the faint taunt from my voice. “Why would a nameless, faceless employee walk into the newly deceased’s celebration of life with his family? I was good with making my way there, eating dry-ass finger foods, and leaving all incognito and under my own power. This”—I wave a hand around the interior, encompassing the three of them—“isn’t necessary.”
It could be my imagination, but a blast of frigid air drifts over my skin, and I stiffen against the shiver ready and willing to overtake my body. Asad’s head slowly turns my way, and a burst of nerves trembles in my belly as I wait, wait, wait for that narrowed scrutiny to land on me. Nerves and,fuck, anticipation.
“It’s necessary because I said it is,” he states, tone flat, ominous. “Everyone will be on their best behavior. I don’t give a fuck how we truly feel about each other. When we walk up in there, the media better report we look like the Black Partridge Family or they gon’ see the other fucking side of me. Understand?”
Michelle nods, though anger burns in her gaze, and Kareem murmurs an agreement, still obsequious to the authority he wears like the delicious scent that clings to him.
I stare straight ahead, not uttering a word. He can take my silence any—
A hard, ruthless grip pinches my chin, turning my head to face Asad. I’m seconds away from jerking his hand off me; I even lift my own hand from my lap to do just that. But the slight narrowing of his eyes makes me rethink that course of action right quick. Thatdon’t get fucked-up in hereglance and the tightening of his fingers on me until it feels like a vise is steadily twisting, bruising me. The tender flesh inside of my mouth presses into the edge of my teeth, but I don’t drop my gaze from his. I’m not that grieving, pitiful twelve-year-old desperate for his attention but scared of the pain it inevitably brings.
Asad has never broken me.
Not him or his old bitch of a mother or his pussy of a brother.
So even though the tinge of blood hits my tongue, I stillsilently order him to go fuck himself. As if he can read my mind or see the message in my stare, his lips curl in the barest definition of a smile. And it’s not a nice one. No, it’s downright mean.
My stomach knots again, and this time my heart joins the circus.
Trepidation and a little bit of panic, yes. But, Jesus, take me to the cross, I wish that’s all it was.
“I asked you a question, Ember. It wasn’t rhetorical. Do you understand what I just said? Nod if you do.”
Fuck you. I hate you. I wish you’d choke on that rancid pussy you’re always deep diving into and die.
I nod.
“Good.”
He releases me with a slight shove, and while I want to massage my aching jaws, I don’t give him the satisfaction. Returning my focus straight ahead, I don’t miss the damn near feral gleam of satisfaction and perverse pride in Michelle’s eyes. Yeah, her horned and hoofed spawn has done her proud.
Kareem’s gaze softens with sympathy, pity—I can’t tell and don’t care to decipher it. Both have greasy humiliation sliding through my chest.
“Also, there’s certain business I’d rather discuss here in private than in a roomful of people with the eyes and ears as open wide as their mouths. Sam called. Marcus left instructions to have his will read the day of his funeral. I’ve scheduled it for directly after the repast at seven p.m. Everyone must be there.”
Asad doesn’t glance my way, but I know that last sentence was directed toward me. After all, I’m the only person in this asylum who would dare defy him.