Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

Like it’s inevitable, because he always wins, and he’s not afraid of a little
hard work.
Honestly, he is pretty perfect. Direct, and he doesn’t treat me like a
delicate flower. I’ve always appreciated that. Most women would find him
overwhelming. Brusque, even. They need to be seduced. They need to be
romanced.
They need to be lied to.
He doesn’t do that.
“Why not tell me to take a hike?” he asks. “Anyone could escort you to
the ball, and you couldn’t care less if it were me.”
No, but… It’s not like I have anyone else in mind either. I want to go to
the ball. It’s a family tradition, and it’s my night. I want it.
I can’t walk out on that stage alone, can I?
“I’m worried there’s something in you that I don’t yet see,” I tell him
plainly. “Maybe I’ll still see it.”
A smile grazes his lips. He appreciates my candor, too.
“Feel the music!” the teacher calls out, stopping Amy and her escort and
straightening their shoulders.
The chandeliers sparkle above us, and I look away, facing left again as we
twirl. The last of the sun glows against the orange wall, the light slowly
moving down, down, down as the clouds roll in and thunder cracks.
But instead of staying at home as recommended tonight due to the storm
coming, there’s a party at the lighthouse. I’m supposed to meet my mother as
soon as dance class is over, but the lighthouse is across the tracks, and it’s
been a long week, busy ignoring Liv as much as she’s been ignoring me.
And stupidly thinking she’d give up and come chasing me when she
wanted more.
But she didn’t, and I’ve let her stew long enough. She’s going to look at
me tonight.
“My father sleeps with his stepdaughter,” Callum says in a low voice.
I meet his eyes.
“What do you think of that?” he asks.
My pulse quickens. Macon had outed the Ames’ and my family at Night
Tide, and while anyone who’d heard had apparently done us the service of
not bringing that shit up again, Callum is clearly still thinking about it.
What do I think of that? Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. About any of it.
“I think we’re dogs,” I tell him. “And I think perfectly tailored suits and