She glares and then takes it, whispering under her breath. “I changed.”

“I have eyes.”

“Too bad you don’t have a heart.”

I almost stumble. Is it horrible that I’m turned on by her confidence? “Ah, you noticed; I was afraid you only focused on my dick.”

“Only because I had such a hard time finding it.”

I snort out a laugh. “Princess came to play? You drunk? High? Should I be worried?”

“Just following orders,” she says through a frozen fake smile as we walk past an irritated-looking Quinn and go outside.

People are swimming and dancing, a few look over, and one dude trips. I almost want to say yes, solidarity; I get it, she’s hot look away before I drown you.

I have no right to be jealous or upset; it’s all I can do to own her in this moment and show her who has the true power.

Me.

Chapter Seventeen

Mary-Belle

Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m walking with Ambrose around the pool; everything looks so perfect, and isn’t that just the keyword here?

Perfect.

It’s all so perfect.

My smile feels frozen. I might throw up. His grip is tight, strong like he’s afraid I’m going to bolt any minute as people leer at us. Guys and girls alike.

The attention, it feels weird, it feels like I’m on display, but I did this to myself while convincing myself I could play this game with him when I’m already in over my head. I may as well be in that pool, drowning.

He may as well be the person holding me down as we walk around and around, looking every bit the perfect family with no parents.

Funny how it started, no parents.

How it ended.

Ambrose.

And no parents.

Apparently, money can’t buy you everything, and while I walk, I lift my chin, and wonder if money can really truly buy you anything at all because we’re both broke, aren’t we?

Living in this huge empty house by this ginormous pool, loads of cash, and what really did that ever get either of us other than heartache in different ways?

I want to hate him, but right now, I actually pity him more than I pity myself.

“Look at them stare,” Ambrose whispers. “They want what you have.”

“And yet,” I say, “they have no clue it’s nothing. That they’d come up empty if they even knew.”

“That’s the facade. It always has been.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Life.” He grips my arm tighter. “Takes no prisoners.” He stops walking and stares down at me. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d say you’re pretty.”

“If I didn’t want to drown you in the pool, I’d say thank you,” I retort back.

Ambrose smiles. “Needed that, thanks.”

“The threat?”

“The reminder,” he quips. “That you’re dangerous, a bad idea, that I blame you for everything, and yet here you are reaping all the reward.”

I snort. “This is a reward? A slutty dress and walking with a slutty glorified foster brother around the pool? Wow, sign me up.”