Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) by Melissa Brown Read Free Book Online

and seven of his chosen wives were allowed to use during meal times. Holly approached the table, wiping the damp strands of hair away from her sticky forehead.
    “Did you do as you were told?” he asked, his elbow pressed into the oak table, the fork hovering above the plate as he waited for her answer. She nodded in response.
    He took a bite, closing his eyes as he chewed, something he did when a dessert was especially decadent. The wait was awkward . . . and excruciating. Holly tapped her foot softly against the wood and yearned to be away from him. For once, she craved the solitude of the laundry.
    After several seconds, he placed the fork on the table and wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin. Clarence demanded cloth at all times, saying that paper napkins were for commoners, not the mouthpiece of God. Holly had another theory on his preference for cloth napkins at each meal and snack he put to his lips.
    Something else for me to launder.
    Of course she didn’t believe Clarence gave her much thought, much less chose his napkins in order to torture her. Perhaps he was just that diabolical, just that vindictive to do whatever he could to keep her as busy and as miserable as possible in that hot and muggy basement of his.
    “Good,” he said before stabbing the cake once again.
    Holly tapped her feet against the hardwood floor. “May I be excused?”
    “In a moment.” He chewed, then asked a question she didn’t expect. “How did she seem?”
    “Aspen?”
    “Yes.” He nodded with narrowed eyes. “Was she anxious? Upset?”
    Interesting question. If Aspen had lost the phone and was eager for its return, wouldn’t the prophet have anticipated relief or joy?
    Of course not. Clarence Black never anticipates joy . . . not for anyone other than himself, that is.
    “She was . . . reserved,” Holly answered honestly. She could think of no other way to describe Aspen’s stoic manner on the other side of the gate.
    Clarence pulled his head back in obvious surprise. “Oh?”
    “Well,” Holly hesitated, realizing Clarence was none too pleased to hear of Aspen’s lack of emotion. “She seemed pleased to have her phone and asked that I relay her thanks.”
    Clarence gritted his teeth, and Holly wrinkled her forehead in surprise.
    You wanted her to be upset, didn’t you? You horrible man. Why doesn’t everyone see what I see in you? Are they blind or simply too afraid?
    Quickly, Clarence curved his lips into an awkward half smile, attempting to mask his obvious frustration with Aspen’s reaction. Holly knew this was her opportunity to pour salt into the wound and out of a desperate need to feel something, anything other than despair, she made the decision to pour that salt . . . and to enjoy it.
    “I was quite surprised, actually. She didn’t bat an eyelash when I handed her the letter. Most people are overwhelmed with excitement when they receive word from the prophet. But Aspen was . . . what’s the word?” She tapped her index finger against her chin for dramatic effect. “Unimpressed.”
    She knew that word would do the most damage. She knew it in her gut. Clarence always expected to make an impression. Always.
    The prophet pressed his lips into a thin line, and Holly could see the rise and fall of his chest increase with each passing second. She knew it was wrong to enjoy getting a rise out of her husband, but there wasn’t much for her to look forward to in life. Sometimes she had to seize the day.
    “I suppose she was just busy watching the children in the yard.” Holly continued, “Must have had other duties on her mind.”
    “I see.”
    “I’ll leave you to your snack.” Holly offered a sickly sweet smile before turning on her heel.
    “Not so fast,” Clarence snapped, and Holly turned back to face him. “I have another job for you.”
    “You do?” Holly asked, her heart raced as her husband bared his teeth.
    You’ve pushed him too far and now he’s going to punish you, you