Read Online Vendetta by Autumn Karr, Sienna Lane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Autumn Karr, Sienna Lane
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some security.
Who the fuck is that man and why is he in my room? I stand against the door until my breathing evens, then I dress back into my pajamas, since I didn’t take my fresh clothes into the bathroom, and put my ear against the door, listening.
Silence.
I wait about ten more minutes before I open the door. Seeing that the room is empty, I sigh in relief.
Fucking creeper.
Ten minutes later, Devon walks in, scowling, with a plate of pancakes in his hand.
“What the hell, Devon?” I shriek, my voice shaking.
“What now? You changed your mind about the pancakes or something?” he says sarcastically, slamming the plate down on the table harder than necessary. It's plastic, so it doesn't make any noise, but the pancakes slide around on the plate.
“This isn’t a joke,” I say, crossing my arms in a protective gesture.
“What?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“One of your fucking minions was in my room!” I yell, letting my expression show him how I felt about it.
“What the fuck? I said the room was off limits,” he says in a low angry tone. His words shouldn't feel so good to hear, but they do. They give me just a little hope.
“He just stood there, staring, then left,” I point with my finger at the place where the man was standing. “He looked like a serial killer.”
“I’ll take care of it. Eat,” he demands and storms out of the room.
DEVON
I pound on my uncle's door and enter without waiting for permission. He looks over from what seems to be a heated discussion with Stevie, but when they see it's me they stop talking.
Stevie looks furious. Frank's face is perfectly neutral.
“Devon.” Frank rounds the table and takes a seat in his leather chair. I watch his eyes, but as usual, they give nothing away. I've never seen him and Stevie fight about anything. Everything my uncle says Stevie just does, no questions or objections.
“I said I'll handle it,” I tell them both through clenched teeth.
Frank nods at the same time Stevie shakes his head, like he's disappointed. “I know you will,” Frank tells me.
“So why in the world did you send one of your goons in her room?”
My uncle's head snaps to Stevie in question. “Did you go in there?” he says, his voice low.
“You scared the crap out of her, Stevie,” I tell him.
He just shrugs like it's no big deal. I walk up to him and grab him by the collar of his jacket before I even realize what I'm doing. “That. Room. Is. Off. Limits. Understand?” I shake him with each word for good measure.
Frank clears his throat, stealing my attention. He gives me an amused look. “Calm down, Devon. Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his table. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down and let Stevie's jacket go. He stumbles back.
Walking to the other side of the table, I'm about to sit when he says, “Why the fuck were you in her room all night? You spend an awful lot of time with her, is that your way of handling it?”
I storm back toward him and grab him again, getting into his face. He tries to look like he isn’t shaken and holds it together, but I see him slipping.
“Mind your own goddamn business,” I spit in his face, adding some ice to my words.
“Devon,” my uncle says, a little harsher.
“I said I'll handle it,” I say, feeling like a stubborn thirteen-year-old boy.
“Sit, Devon.” He looks at Stevie and points to the door. “We're done. Get out.” It's almost funny watching my uncle put someone ten years his senior in their place.
Stevie looks down, then back up, nods and moves for the door.
“Stevie,” Frank says. Stevie's eyes lock with his. “Don't let this happen again.”
He nods again and leaves the room, but not before giving me a parting scowl.
My uncle waits until the door clicks shut and then gives me a pointed look. He leans forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table and connecting his palms together.
“You know better than this.”
I
Who the fuck is that man and why is he in my room? I stand against the door until my breathing evens, then I dress back into my pajamas, since I didn’t take my fresh clothes into the bathroom, and put my ear against the door, listening.
Silence.
I wait about ten more minutes before I open the door. Seeing that the room is empty, I sigh in relief.
Fucking creeper.
Ten minutes later, Devon walks in, scowling, with a plate of pancakes in his hand.
“What the hell, Devon?” I shriek, my voice shaking.
“What now? You changed your mind about the pancakes or something?” he says sarcastically, slamming the plate down on the table harder than necessary. It's plastic, so it doesn't make any noise, but the pancakes slide around on the plate.
“This isn’t a joke,” I say, crossing my arms in a protective gesture.
“What?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“One of your fucking minions was in my room!” I yell, letting my expression show him how I felt about it.
“What the fuck? I said the room was off limits,” he says in a low angry tone. His words shouldn't feel so good to hear, but they do. They give me just a little hope.
“He just stood there, staring, then left,” I point with my finger at the place where the man was standing. “He looked like a serial killer.”
“I’ll take care of it. Eat,” he demands and storms out of the room.
DEVON
I pound on my uncle's door and enter without waiting for permission. He looks over from what seems to be a heated discussion with Stevie, but when they see it's me they stop talking.
Stevie looks furious. Frank's face is perfectly neutral.
“Devon.” Frank rounds the table and takes a seat in his leather chair. I watch his eyes, but as usual, they give nothing away. I've never seen him and Stevie fight about anything. Everything my uncle says Stevie just does, no questions or objections.
“I said I'll handle it,” I tell them both through clenched teeth.
Frank nods at the same time Stevie shakes his head, like he's disappointed. “I know you will,” Frank tells me.
“So why in the world did you send one of your goons in her room?”
My uncle's head snaps to Stevie in question. “Did you go in there?” he says, his voice low.
“You scared the crap out of her, Stevie,” I tell him.
He just shrugs like it's no big deal. I walk up to him and grab him by the collar of his jacket before I even realize what I'm doing. “That. Room. Is. Off. Limits. Understand?” I shake him with each word for good measure.
Frank clears his throat, stealing my attention. He gives me an amused look. “Calm down, Devon. Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his table. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down and let Stevie's jacket go. He stumbles back.
Walking to the other side of the table, I'm about to sit when he says, “Why the fuck were you in her room all night? You spend an awful lot of time with her, is that your way of handling it?”
I storm back toward him and grab him again, getting into his face. He tries to look like he isn’t shaken and holds it together, but I see him slipping.
“Mind your own goddamn business,” I spit in his face, adding some ice to my words.
“Devon,” my uncle says, a little harsher.
“I said I'll handle it,” I say, feeling like a stubborn thirteen-year-old boy.
“Sit, Devon.” He looks at Stevie and points to the door. “We're done. Get out.” It's almost funny watching my uncle put someone ten years his senior in their place.
Stevie looks down, then back up, nods and moves for the door.
“Stevie,” Frank says. Stevie's eyes lock with his. “Don't let this happen again.”
He nods again and leaves the room, but not before giving me a parting scowl.
My uncle waits until the door clicks shut and then gives me a pointed look. He leans forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table and connecting his palms together.
“You know better than this.”
I
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