“No fucking shit,” she says, looking for all the world like a cat who’s just cornered its prey. “Of anyone, you’d have the most motivation to want him gone.”
“Jon Eric is a piece of shit,” I say in an even voice. “He’s a bully, and so much more. I hate him, and I’m scared of him, but I didn’t have anything to do with him disappearing.”
I’m impressed with myself for how convincing I sound. I suppose it’s not a total lie. It’s not like I killed him, and I have no idea what happened to his body. Still, I’m not an idiot. I know it won’t matter that I technically didn’t do anything to Jon Eric.
Some of her delight seeps away before my eyes. No doubt, my lack of visceral reaction is disappointing her. That helps me stay focused and centered so I can keep my temper under control.
“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” She scoffs. “Just because you’re fucking Saint? I wouldn’t get cocky about it if I were you. He’s not as untouchable as you think.”
My throat goes dry at her words. What does that mean? Does she know something?
Is Saint in trouble?
It’s harder to school my features.
“You sound jealous, L,” Loni chimes in. “Everyone knows you’re still pining for Saint. Give it up. It’s getting old.”
That strikes a nerve. Laurel’s expression darkens.
“At least I’m not a fucking whore like your mom,” she snarls back. “Ruining families and spreading her legs for whatever rich guy looks her way. Hopefully, her nasty little crotch fruit ends up like Mallory’s.”
Now I have to actually grab Loni by her shoulders to keep her from launching at her stepsister. I can’t see Loni’s face as I hold her back but based on how quickly the color drains from Laurel’s face and how wide her eyes get, I imagine my friend looks ready to commit murder.
“She’s not worth the jail time,” I say, half-jokingly. “Let’s just go, okay?”
She’s shaking beneath my hands, but she slowly nods her head and we turn away before Laurel can get another word in. I glance back over my shoulder, and she’s thankfully turned to walk in the opposite direction, her shoulders drooping.
I let out a breath of relief.
“You okay?” I murmur.
“She’s just got a big mouth on her. Someday, someone’s going to fuck up her entire world.”
I don’t really know what to say to make her feel better, so I bob my head in agreement. “Do you want to ditch our plans and go drink wine in my room and order a pizza?”
She shoots me a small, grateful smile but shakes her head.
“Nah, that’s okay. Taking out my rage on a punching bag right now sounds like a really good idea.”
I don’t comment on the fact that she just admitted to going to the boxing room, which is where Gabe will definitely be this time of day.
Instead, I crinkle my nose. “If you want to hang out later, let me know. And thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Always.” She play-punches me in the shoulder, and then with a wink adds, “Have fun at your study session.”
I roll my eyes, but smile, acting like all is well on the Saint front. “Shut up.”
She doesn’t need to know how confused I am about him right now. She’s got enough on her mind.
We part ways and I continue to the library. Saint’s already there when I arrive, waiting for me just inside the main entrance with a brooding look tensing his bronze features.
“I was beginning to think you’d ditched me,” he rumbles as I approach him.
“I’m not that late.”
“Late enough.”
Sighing in exasperation, I confess, “I had an unfortunate run-in with Laurel. She was insistent on being a pain in the ass.”
His brows furrow in irritation. “Need me to tell her to back off?”
A thrill shoots through me at how readily he wants to defend me. “I’m good.”
“Come on, let’s go to the back,” he says, turning to wander further into the library.
“Wait,” I blurt.
He stops and looks back at me, his brow arched.
“What?”
Releasing a breath, I just let the words flow out. “Be honest with me, Saint. Are you planning on fucking me over again to get me to leave? Is prom a trap?”
He stares at me in silence for several long moments. I think I’ve stunned him.
“Where the fuck is this coming from?” he snaps at last.
“Just answer me,” I say. “I’m going crazy, thinking about you betraying me again. Just put me out of my misery and tell me if you’re going to do something.”
He blinks and walks back to stand directly in front of me.
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot?” he asks in a low tone.
I nod. “It’s just about the only thing I can think about.” That, and what Nora might be planning for me of course.
He falls silent and just stares at me. I can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking, but he’s not happy.
Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs my hand. Walking toward the library’s door, he drags me along behind him.
“Where are we going?” I ask, startled.
He doesn’t answer me as we head across campus. After some time, I realize he’s taking me to his car.
“Saint, this isn’t funny,” I growl, yanking on my hand to try and free myself from him. I’m unsuccessful, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “Where are you taking me?”
“Hostage,” he answers in a flat tone.
“Not funny,” I snap as we reach his Range Rover. He opens the front passenger door and urges me inside without another word. Then, he moves around to slide into the driver’s seat.
I whirl on him the moment his door closes.
“You’d better tell me where we’re going, right the fuck now,” I snarl.
He gives me a look that’s almost bored. “To my house. You’re going to spend the night and all of tomorrow there with me.”
“Are you crazy? Why would I do that?”
He starts the car and pulls out of his parking spot.
“What other choice do you have? Besides, you want to know if you can trust me? Then I need the opportunity to prove myself to you.”
He focuses on the road ahead as he drives us off of campus, and I stare at him in total disbelief.
If his goal is to prove to me that I can trust him, he’s off to a rough start.
“Saint, this is way too much. I don’t think I can take it.”
“Just relax. I’ve got you. I want this to be good for you.”
I meet his blue stare in the full-length mirror in front of me and roll my eyes.
“Do you really think buying me another expensive dress is going to make me trust you?” I ask, eyeing my reflection carefully.
He smirks. “Not likely, but I thought it’d at least loosen you up a bit. Most girls like getting pricey gifts. Puts them in the mood. At least, in my experience it does.”
I scowl at him. “You’re a slut, Angelle.”
He just chuckles, but it’s clear he’s enjoying himself.
True to his word, he’s kept me “hostage” in his house since yesterday evening. Last night, after we arrived, we had a minor shouting match followed by angry sex that actually made us both feel better and calmer afterwards.