“Break it down for me.” I smiled cheerfully, ignoring her snark. “And use simple words. Romanian is my first language, after all.”

Vampire.

Though it had been her joke, the reference flew over her head like a kite. I could see it in the vacant, Barbie-doll expression plastered on her pretty face.

“I’m sleeping with your dad.”

I stood there like an idiot, feeling my nostrils flaring. Self-pity consumed me, and the stupidest thought floated into my mind. Why on my birthday?

Why, indeed. Why did I find out about this on my birthday? Why here, in the place I’d grown up. Why my father, who I looked up to, put on a pedestal, and treated like a god? Was it a wonder I was so drawn to Vaughn Spencer? Maybe it was in my DNA to fall blindly for the ones I wasn’t worthy of.

Arabella strutted toward me, picking up a lock of my blonde hair and examining it between her fingers. “Jeez, Lenny, didn’t your boyfriend, Vaughn, tell you he caught me slipping from your dad’s bedroom?”

What?

I sucked in a breath, but remained silent.

She shrugged, hmmphing. “Guess there’s little talking on the agenda when his dick is in your mouth all night.”

I was going to kill—no, demolish him.

My mind screamed on repeat: Payback, payback, payback.

But what I had planned for him wasn’t nearly enough.

I swallowed, still weighing my next words. She pouted, her hand moving from my hair to the collar of my hoodie.

“I’m so sorry.” She sighed melodramatically. “I was sure he’d give you the heads-up, at least. Guess you really are just another seasonal hole, honey.”

“You’re mad,” I croaked, my voice too hoarse to be recognizable, “that he’s not with you.”

She scrunched her nose, like I’d said something gross.

“You think I wanted to come here because of Spencer? He’s just a kid, and legit a sociopath. Now your dad, that’s a different ballgame. We’re getting pretty serious, actually, so you might wanna try to be nicer to me. You know, for the future of your trust fund. I’m sure there’s a lot of vampire shit you want to buy, not to mention all your stupid books. Wait, you wouldn’t mind calling me Mummy, would you?” She mimicked a very bad English accent.

I lost it.

I simply lost it.

I grabbed the hem of her low-cut blouse, twisting it in my fist and smashing her against the wall opposite to my father’s door. I got in her face, snarling.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Two sordid visits in forty-eight hours. Doesn’t look too good.”

“Arabella,” I warned.

“Mummy to you.” She laughed.

My hand flew from her collar to her neck, squeezing. I couldn’t help myself. It scared me how little control I had over my emotions, my actions. I couldn’t believe she’d said that word. Mummy. It was so sacred to me. What did she know about orphans? Both of her parents were alive. They’d bought her way here.

I realized Arabella hadn’t stopped bullying me. She just played a different, more destructive game here.

Slept with Dad.

Sucked Vaughn off.

Tried to burn my house down.

Why? Why? Why?

I was a firm believer in the “bad person, good reason” approach. To be doing things like that, she had to have a motive. But I wasn’t feeling sympathetic just now.

“Know what the best part is? I figured you out a long time ago. You pretend to be all tough and dark.” Arabella pushed me back, and I almost crashed against Papa’s office door. Almost. “But honestly? You’re just your daddy’s little puppet. You’ll never confront him about me, about anything. You’re scared shitless of him. Look how he screwed you over with that internship. I mean, dayum.” She shook her head, snorting. “I might be the one lying on my back getting dicked, but Daddy Astalis sure fucks you over—”

She didn’t get the chance to complete the sentence. I grabbed her hair and dragged her down the hall, somewhere he wouldn’t be able to hear through his door.

She wasn’t wrong, but she was about to be.

I craved my father’s approval and dreaded confronting him. But her revelation changed everything. He wasn’t a martyr who’d sworn off women after Mum. He was a cradle snatcher, a perv who slept with teenagers.

God. No. Not you, Dad.

She protested with little whines, but by the time she started screaming, I’d shoved Arabella into Uncle Harry’s office, which I knew was empty, and disposed of her on the floor. She was a bit bigger than me, but I was feisty and had enough adrenaline to kill three grown men.

Perched on the floor, her back to Harry’s desk, Arabella laughed and laughed and laughed. There was a crazy zing with her eyes. And sadness. I could smell loss from across the room, and she’d experienced it.

“I can’t get over how much people don’t give a damn about you, girl. Your boyfriend didn’t even tell you he caught me with your dad. He’d have probably stuck his dick in my mouth if my jaw wasn’t busy pleasuring Papa Astalis. Your dad prefers your boyfriend to you. Your best friend, Pope, had to beg people to go to your surprise birthday party because nobody likes you…”

She trailed off, knowing exactly what she was doing, then pressed her fingers over her mouth, raising her eyebrows in false embarrassment.

“Oops. Silly me. Totally forgot it was supposed to be a secret. Pope asked me to come to your surprise party tonight. You sister’s dragging her ass from London to bring the body count up. Everyone’s gonna be there. I mean, all four people in your life. Including me,” she cackled, getting to her feet.

I watched her every move, careful not to say or do anything that could put me in prison. I didn’t trust myself with her. And I also knew Pope well enough to see why he’d invite her. He did have a weakness when it came to crazy lasses—even ones who’d hurt me, it seemed.

Arabella smoothed her skirt and swaggered to the door, making a show of yawning. “Anyway, I’m off to find something cute for tonight so I can upstage you.”

Beat of silence. She ran her eyes over my figure. “Not that it would be a challenge. Tell your daddy you know about us, and I swear your life will be over. Catch ya later.”

I leaned over Harry’s desk, trying to regulate my breath.

I wanted to kill Dad.

Vaughn.

Arabella.

And I was about to be stuck in a room with all of them tonight. Then I remembered I was supposed to meet Raff at ten. It was already half past.

But he just wanted to keep me busy until the evening. He was trying to be nice, while my older sister put things together. My fists curled again of their own accord, and I realized I was choking a piece of paper in my hand. I looked down and unwrinkled it, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I might have ruined an important document that belonged to Uncle Harry.

I looked down and read the words on the page, handwritten by my uncle:

To do list:

Gallery in Milan/call Karla

Rent/landlord/Chelsea flat

Check on VS (been quiet? Vindictive?)

Birthday present/Lenny

VS

Vaughn Spencer.

Somehow I knew, clear as day, that he was talking about Vaughn.