Rachel might be a fucking cunt, but she should know when I’ve reached my breaking point. And I’m done.

Instantly, she picks up her coffee and laughs over the rim. “Oh, stop it. I was just kidding.” She shakes her head and takes a sip.

“I was going to take a swim. If that’s okay, Mr. Powers?” Raven holds her head high and stares at her mother, then turns to face me, her cheeks flushed.

“You never need to ask.” Our eyes lock, and for a moment I lose myself in them. Raven puts on a good act, but she craves love. It’s why she responds so well to me.

Rachel humiliating her is disturbing on so many levels. The first is how hard my heart is pounding. The second, why I can’t seem to control these feelings.

“I was joking, Jett. We’re going to be married, so of course Raven is welcome,” Rachel says tightly.

Again, dead silence. I need to get out of here and take Raven with me.

“I’m going for a run.” I look down at Rachel. “You should take a nap. You need to get rid of those bags under your eyes. Try ice—maybe that will help.”

Her mouth opens and closes and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Fucking cunt.

“Jett… please.” Her voice cracks as her hands instantly go to her face. I don’t wait to hear more. Quite frankly, I’m considering canceling going out tonight so as not to be near her. I stop at the doorway and motion for Raven to go ahead of me. She sets her cup down.

We don’t say anything as we walk. I open the door to the backyard leading to the pool area before I grab her arm.

“No. Let go, Mr. Powers,” she sneers.

Ignoring her, I drag her into the pool house. There’s a sauna inside and a separate room set up for my massage therapist.

“I said, let go of me. I can’t deal with her, or you.” She rips her arm free as soon as we’re inside.

Grabbing her face with both hands, I force her to look at me. “Raven, she’s a bitter—”

“Stop. I know exactly what my mother is. What I’m wondering is what’s wrong with you?” Her eyes are shiny with tears, looking like deep, dark pools of rain.

“I’m not going to discuss my relationship with you,” I inform her.

“Why? Have I not earned it? Because sorry, I don’t think I have any more holes left for you to fuck,” she yells, frustrated tears spilling down her pink cheeks.

The monster inside me becomes unleashed.

I like her like this, needy, vulnerable, mine to corrupt, mine to build back up.

“She’s a vile, horrible person. She hates me, you know?” Tears of what I’m sure are years of neglect and humiliation spill from her eyes.