Chapter 6 Constantine POV "Unravel"
“Why am I trapped in this hellhole?” I ask my father.
I'm sitting in some absurdly posh restaurant inside the Marigold Hotel and Casino, across from my father and my bonus dad, Mason Jones. The place looks like royalty threw up gold leaf and crystal chandeliers everywhere.
It's high tea hour.
Tiny sandwiches.
Expensive porcelain.
My sisters are about to arrive. My mother too. Some of Mason's family. Some of my father's.
The whole damn circus.
I don't even know why I'm asking the question.
Maybe because I still haven't recovered from what I walked in on two nights ago.
I was planning to stay up and wait for Catori to come home. I hadn't stayed long at the club after dropping Owen and Jason off.
Then I came back to the penthouse and found them.
The three of them.
My father.
Mason.
My mother.
Fuck me.
If I could rip that memory out of my brain, I would.
Turns out my parents are in some kind of throuple.
My mother has always been brutally honest with us about relationships, sex, love—all of it. Nothing was taboo growing up.
But this?
This blindsided me.
And honestly, I still don't know how the hell I feel about it.
The only thing keeping me remotely sane is the fact that Elena isn't my biological mother.
She adopted me when I was a baby.
The unwanted kid born from my father and the woman he originally chose instead.
Vladimira.
I know her.
Barely.
She's tried over the years.
I never let her in.
Not because she's cruel.
Not because she's absent.
I just already have a mom.
I never needed another.
“We need to talk about what you saw,” my father mutters.
The restaurant is empty. He literally rented the entire place for the afternoon.
That alone tells me this is going to become A Thing.
A long, emotionally damaging thing.
“It's fine,” I say quickly. “I don't need details. Seriously. Please don't explain anything to me.”
I grin.
“I'm twenty-nine. I get it.”
My father bursts out laughing while Mason looks like he'd rather launch himself through a window.
“God, he really is your son,” Mason mutters.
I smirk.
Mason has always been quiet.
Reserved.
Almost painfully calm for a man built like violence.
Most people see the soft-spoken attitude first.
They don't see the animal underneath.
The former heavyweight champion.
The fighter.
The man who trained me.
Then I hear a laugh.
My head turns automatically.
Catori.
My sister.
Not biologically, I remind myself immediately.
As if repeating it enough times will somehow fix whatever is happening inside my head. Whatever happens to my body whenever she's around.
Because something changed when I came home.
Shifted.
And I fucking hate it.
Katia walks beside her with an arm looped through Catori's. They're laughing about something.
Mom follows behind them.
Then Catori's aunts.
Uncle Dimitri and Marie trail after them looking like they belong on the cover of a magazine about rich criminals pretending to be respectable citizens.
I look away.
Immediately.
Then Uncle Jax's voice booms through the restaurant.
Of course.
The family clown has arrived.
My eyes flick back to my father.
He's grinning.
That grin.
The one that says, I saw that.
Bastard.
Catori slides into the seat beside me without hesitation.
Her thigh brushes mine beneath the tablecloth.
I freeze.
She doesn't move away.
Neither do I.
The knot in my throat tightens.
It's been there ever since I came home.
Ever since she wandered around the penthouse wearing one of my old Air Force PT shirts.
Ever since she climbed into my bed in that same shirt.
The damn thing barely covered her thighs.
Inviting her into my room because she couldn't sleep was the biggest mistake I've made in a long time.
And I think she knows it.
That's the worst part.
For now.
I'm sure I can find a lower point.
Catori leans closer.
Close enough for me to catch her perfume.
Something warm.
Something expensive.
Something dangerous.
“You look miserable,” she whispers.
“I am miserable.”
“That's dramatic.”
“You're sitting too close to me.”
Her lips twitch.
“There are empty seats everywhere else. Yet you're still here.”
“I sat here first.”
“Mhm.”
Her knee brushes mine beneath the table.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Fuck.
I grab my teacup before I do something stupid.
Across from me, Mason notices everything.
His eyes narrow slightly.
My father just looks entertained.
Neither of them seem to realize their daughter is openly flirting with me.
With her brother.
I briefly consider asking for help.
Then decide I'd rather survive the afternoon.
Mom settles into the seat at the head of the table.
Elegant.
Composed.
Terrifying.
“Well,” she says pleasantly, “this already feels tense.”
“You think?” I mutter.
Uncle Jax drops into a chair beside Dimitri with a dramatic sigh.
“Good. I hate boring family gatherings.”
Marie smacks his shoulder.
Katia snorts into her tea.
Catori reaches for the pastry tray.
Her arm brushes mine again.
Tiny contact.
Barely anything.
My entire body notices.
I hate this.
I hate how aware I am of her.
How every look feels loaded.
How every touch lingers.
How I still remember her standing barefoot in my shirt, looking half asleep.
Or maybe she wasn't unaware at all.
Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.
That possibility is somehow worse.
“You've been staring at him since you walked in,” Katia says casually.
I nearly choke on my tea.
Catori doesn't even blink.
“Maybe he's pretty.”
The table erupts into laughter.
My pulse pounds in my throat.
I push my chair back and stand.
Then move to the empty seat beside Uncle Jax.
Distance.
I need distance.
She is my sister, I remind myself again.
Ivan leans back in his chair, enjoying this far too much.
“This family gets more dysfunctional every year.”
“You raised us,” I point out.
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Catori laughs.
The sound crawls beneath my skin.
God help me.
Because she doesn't feel like my sister anymore.
And I'm starting to realize she knows it.
She's watching me unravel in real time.
And I swear, every time I manage to pull one thread back together, she finds another and gives it a tug.
