“I’m glad you wanted to talk,” I confess. “I was afraid I’d lost not only my pool but my swimming buddy as well.” I try to keep things light to keep from straying into touchy territory, but his expression darkens, and I think I might have stumbled onto a hidden landmine anyway.
“You get why I’m pissed though, right?” he asks, his tone hardening.
“Yeah, I get it. You don’t like me with Saint, and—”
“Fuck, Mallory!” He pushes away from the railing and advances on me. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him?”
“Liam, I’m sorry, but you’re not my—”
He carries on as if I’m not trying to speak, “You know how much of a fucking fool you are, right? You keep letting him reel you back into his shit. Why?”
My anger burns to life hot and fast. I’m so sick of hearing this from him over and over again. Yeah, messing around with Saint may be a huge mistake, but it’s my mistake to make, and Liam doesn’t get a fucking say in it.
“You know what?” I snap. “I don’t need this bullshit from you. I get enough of it from him already.”
“Bullshit? You think looking out for your wellbeing is bullshit?”
“No, but holding every little thing I do that you don’t like over my head sure as fuck is! He’s your friend.” I’m shouting, and I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole party hears me rip into him. “I get that you and Saint have some weird history of screwing around with the same girl, but I’m done. With all of you.”
I rush back into the house before he can stop me. I don’t want to go back through the main area of the party, so I take the back staircase up to the second floor. Even though it’s been months, I still remember the layout of the house and navigate my way easily through the hallways toward the front staircase. My plan is to hurry down it and slip outside without anyone noticing me.
When I pass by Saint’s bedroom door, I pause. I can’t help myself. I stare at the dark wood and feel my heart clench. As stupid as it sounds, I wish I could go back to that holiday weekend we spent here. It was so peaceful, and I’d been so happy having it be just the two of us together. I’d naively thought the worst was behind me at that point and was hopeful that the rest of my time at Angelview would improve.
How so terribly wrong I’d been.
As I’m standing and staring at Saint’s door, I suddenly hear footsteps approaching and voices softly talking. I tense, listening as the footsteps near the corner just ahead of me. The voices grow louder, and I’m able to recognize them.
All the blood drains from my face.
It’s Laurel and Rosalind, and they appear to be having a pretty heated discussion.
“I just don’t get what’s so special about that little country bitch, anyway,” Laurel hisses.
Oh, shit. They’re talking about me. Terrified of getting caught in the hallway while they’re shit-talking me, I instinctively reach for the doorknob to Saint’s room and slip inside. I softly close the door behind me and press my ear against the wood, ignoring the memories of Thanksgiving break that try to push their way to the surface of my mind.
“You never have been able to see it, have you? Why Saint doesn’t want you,” Rosalind finally says, which earns her a sniff from Laurel. “Sorry for being honest but it’s the truth and that’s not Mallory Ellis’s fault.”
Holy shit. Is she actually taking up for me? Again?
Laurel must think so because she growls, “God, are you fucking that slut, too? Why’d you even come back anyway?”
Rosalind is silent for a long pause where I hold my breath, but then she murmurs, “Because Saint asked me to.”
Seriously?
“Maybe he’ll ask you to leave,” Laurel grinds out.
To my horror, they stop right outside the door, and it only then dawns on me that this could be their actual destination.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
I hold my breath and wait for a few seconds, but when neither of them makes a move to actually enter the room, I let out a sigh of relief. Still, I’m not going anywhere until they move, so I dig out my phone and shoot a second text to Loni, warning her I’m going to be a little longer than expected. Then, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I listen in on the rest of Laurel and Rosalind’s conversation.
“Is her pussy made of cocaine of something?” Laurel wonders. “Is that why he’s so addicted to her?”
It gives me a terrible sense of satisfaction to know she’s so baffled by Saint’s apparent obsession with me. I like the idea of Laurel scratching her head, wondering what in the world I possess that she doesn’t. It’s cruel and vindictive of me to think these things, but I don’t give a single fuck.
“Maybe she’s got something over him?” Laurel continues. “Maybe she’s blackmailing him, or knocked up or—”
“Or maybe you should just fuck off.”
Saint’s voice hits me like a blow to the gut. Fuck, what’s he doing out there? Shouldn’t he be down at his party?
“Saint!” Laurel gasps. “Ha-happy birthday! We didn’t see—”
“All the downstairs bathrooms were occupied,” Rosalind calmly explains. “I was showing her one of the ones up here.”
Even though that sounds innocent enough, I don’t miss the insinuation behind her words. She’s reminding Laurel that she’s been upstairs. That, despite Laurel’s infatuation with him, he’s chosen another girl more than once.
“Hmm. Well, like I said before fuck off.” His voice is so low and dangerous, it makes me shiver. “Shit in the ocean if you have to, I don’t care either way.”
Rosalind laughs and I hear Laurel mumbling apologies as they hurry away. He doesn’t move for several long moments, and I tense, slowly backing up toward the center of the room and sending up a silent prayer that he just walks away.
The doorknob twists and I shoot backwards, panicked.
I don’t have time to hide. I don’t have time to do anything as the door swings open and Saint fills the doorway.
22
“What—” he starts, but then he flips on the lights, and his eyes settle on me. He looks momentarily confused. Then, to my horror, he visibly relaxes, and a wicked grin splits his features. “Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction?” he breathes, and I sink down on the edge of his massive bed and scowl.
“Wrong era,” I retort. “You forget the theme of your own birthday party?”
He shuts the door behind him. “I forgot my own fucking name when I saw you brought me gifts of tongue, tits, and pus—”
“God, you’re the worst,” I interrupt despite the clench in my core and the butterflies swarming my stomach.
“Probably but then, you’re the one sneaking around my bedroom. Why are you here?”
Well, hell. How do I get out this situation without looking like a stalker?
“Mallory. Answer me. What are you doing in here?”
I hesitate a moment more, then release a defeated sigh.
“Fine. I was eavesdropping, okay? I didn’t want to run into Laurel and Rosalind, so I came in here to hide, and then I listened to their conversation because they were talking about me. Happy? I’m not here for you.”