Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,33

that you fucked up."

She takes a donut and bites into it savagely.

Lily knows her sister as much as anyone. And I need to figure out a way through this so Daisy will agree to be at Xavier’s dinner.

“I kissed her. Our friends needed to see it,” I go on at Lil’s knowing look. “But she’s barely spoken to me since.”

She hops up on the counter, eyeing me over her prize. “Was it a good kiss?"

I remember the feel of Daisy's mouth under mine, how fucking perfect she felt—right up until the second she pulled back. "Yeah, it was a good kiss."

Lily nods. “Then that's why she's pissed."

“For an economist, you’re acting irrationally.”

She tosses back her head and laughs. “For a self-made man, you’re acting like a dumbass.”

I frown, but she continues.

“She’s been walking around in a bad mood for days. I mentioned your name and she nearly decapitated me.”

Interesting. Daisy’s not usually grouchy.

"You're saying… she liked it but she wishes she didn’t?"

Lily stares me down as if I'm dimmer than the burnt-out bulb she replaced.

But if Daisy liked it, that means… Shit. I don’t know what the fuck that means, or what I want it to mean.

“Do you like my sister?” Lily asks.

This week, I’ve been thinking of Daisy more than usual.

The guilt over what happened with Vi is still there, but so is something new. Not only an awareness, but a need.

Even if it is real… I can’t be looking for that. Xavier’s wrong about one thing—a relationship is a surefire way to undermine everything I’ve built, not reinforce it.

“It’s complicated,” I say.

Her gaze narrows. “Economics major. I eat complicated for breakfast.”

“Apparently you eat donuts.”

She ignores me. “Decide if you like her. Then fucking act accordingly."

I can't have romantic feelings for Daisy. I respect her, I care about her as much as my own family, and the other night, I got caught up in what we were selling.

Adults don’t run around feeling everything, and they sure as hell don’t make life-altering decisions on the basis of feelings—unless they want to be like my mom or that Hollywood producer, slaves to their emotions and whatever asshole pulls on them for the rest of their lives.

Before I can tell Lily that, the sound of the door has us both turning.

Daisy walks in, stilling in the foyer when she sees us. “What’s going on?”

She’s wearing jeans that hug every curve, high-heeled sandals, and a white cap sleeved T-shirt.

Since when do tits look that good in a damned T-shirt?

“Ben and I were talking about school,” her sister says. “He—”

“Lily,” I cut in, “had some ideas and wanted to bounce them off someone.”

Lily’s grateful expression is everything.

"How was breakfast?" I ask.

"Ben's jealous," Lily singsongs.

I glare. "I was concerned.”

Daisy sets her bag on the hook by the door and steps out of the heels. “Because of our arrangement?”

“Yes.”

She starts down the hall toward her room.

Lily clears her throat, shooting me a pointed look.

"No," I clarify, following Daisy down the hall.

Lily's a kid, and she doesn't know for a fact that Daisy has feelings for me. But given that my friend has been cool to me since Wednesday, another approach could be in order.

“The outcome of this matters to both of our futures,” I say. “The fact that you went out with Marc told me you aren't committed to this."

Inside her room, she heads for a pile of clean laundry on the bed and starts putting it away. “I didn’t go out with Marc. But I won’t promise not to, because I’m not going to get caught.”

The relief I expected doesn't come.

“It’s not only about getting caught.” I step closer, trapping her between me and the dresser. Her eyes widen a fraction of an inch. “The idea of my girl dating another man—of you dating another guy—while we’re together is upsetting.”

"That's on you, not me."

Frustration rises and I shove it down. “I know it’s unfair of me to ask that you put your social life on hold while we’re doing this, but I’m asking anyway."

"Why?"

An unfamiliar feeling claws at my chest from the inside. It’s a simple question, but the answer feels anything but easy.

“Because I hate the thought that you would go to someone else for what I should be providing you,” I grind out. “He might like you, but there’s no way he cares about you more than I do. So tell me what you need. I’ll be that or go down trying.”

The words are out before my brain can catch up, but the