This morning when we woke up, he announced he was having a stylist come by today from some upscale LA boutique to show me different options for a new prom dress. I tried telling him no, but he wasn’t in the listening mood, and so now we’re standing in his living room with a woman named Melanie, who’s having me try on thousand-dollar dresses like I’m some kind of fucking nobility.
“This one really does suit you,” Melanie says, smoothing the satin green gown down my hips. “The color is fabulous.”
It is, which I hate to admit.
“You like?” Saint asks with a huskiness to his voice that tells me he’s got something besides dresses on his mind.
“It’s gorgeous.” I meet his gaze in the mirror once more. “But like I said, it’s too much. I can’t let you buy this for me.”
He waves my concerns away with a flick of his wrist.
“I don’t really care if you think it’s too much,” he informs me. “You need a dress, and I want you to look good. There’s not a price that’s too high for that.”
I almost melt at his words, but that’s what he wants, damn him.
Pursing my lips, I instead say, “You’re a control freak, you know that, right?”
He laughs. “You like that about me when we’re fucking.”
I don’t know whose cheeks are redder, mine or Melanie’s.
“You’re such a jerk,” I snap, fighting the urge to fan myself. I’m both mortified and incredibly turned on right now. Saint insisted on staying in the room to watch me peruse and try on the dresses. He’s been sitting on the couch as I strip and change, and though I know I should be embarrassed to have him staring at me while I’m going through this process, it’s actually been incredibly hot.
I give my head a little shake to try and clear my distracting thoughts. I need to stay sharp because I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to keep me from asking if he’s going to fuck me over again. I’m onto his game, and I’m not going to drop it. The moment Melanie leaves, I’m bringing the question back up.
“I think this could be the one,” Melanie says with a clap of her hands.
To my frustration, Saint shakes his head. “She should try on a few more, just to be certain.”
Is he trying to prolong her stay? I can’t help but feel suspicious.
Obediently, however, Melanie offers me a few more choices to try on. In the end, I settle on the green gown, because I know Saint won’t let the appointment end until I pick a dress, and it really was the most breathtaking option on me, with its scooped neckline and dangerously low back.
When Melanie leaves at last, I don’t waste a second. I round on him.
“You need to stop avoiding answering my question.”
“Oh? And what question is that?” he says with a sigh. Smart ass.
I fold my arms and cock my hip. “Do you plan on fucking me over again?”
He does that unnerving thing again where he just stares at me, but then he moves closer until he’s towering over me.
“You want to know what my plan is? How I’m going to protect you?”
Protect me or torment me, either way I have a right to know.
I nod. “Yes. Tell me.”
“I’m not going to fuck you over again,” he says in a low tone.
“Then what are you going to do?” I whisper because I know he’s going to do something. He wouldn’t have avoided the question like this if he weren’t going to do anything.
Raising his hand, he cups my cheek and slowly strokes his thumb along my skin.
“I’m going to send my father to prison for the rest of his life.”
I gawk up at him, certain I’ve misheard. “Okay?”
He takes me by surprise and presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’ll be good for him. Three hots and a cot. Internet. He can even make prison pizza—there’s an excellent recipe for it on YouTube.”
“Wow, you’ve really researched his options.”
“What can I say? I’m thorough.”
Dropping his hand from my face, he turns away from me and walks into the kitchen without another word. I stare after him, dumbstruck. I don’t know what to say. Hell, I don’t even know what to think.
He’s going to massively betray his father.
And I couldn’t be more terrified of the consequences.
35
Two days before prom, my new dress is delivered to my dorm room. It’s possibly more beautiful than I remember it being, and I can’t help but want to try it on. As I slip into the smooth material and study my reflection in the mirror, my mind wanders to Saint. I’m still reeling from his confession, torn between enormous relief and gut-wrenching guilt. I know the guilt isn’t logical. Mr. Angelle should rot behind bars for the rest of his life, but I’m just not sure it’s his son who should be putting him there.
But he’s going to try to. For me.
It’s overwhelming, and I regret not telling him immediately how appreciative I am to him.
It’s at that moment that I startle at a light knock on my door. I cross the room to answer it, not even thinking about the fact that I’m still wearing my prom dress, and I open the door without hesitation.
My heart stops and my blood runs cold when I see who’s on the other side.
Nora.
What the fuck?
Her blue eyes sweep over me before she gives them a dramatic roll. “Nice dress.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I lamely reply, “Thanks.”
A strained moment of silence falls between us for several seconds before Nora gives a disgusted sniff and snaps, “Are you going to let me in?”
I’d rather not, but I doubt I have any choice.
Stepping aside to give her room, I let her come inside. Closing the door behind us, I face her, but my eyes dart around looking for a weapon, just in case. There’s nothing close at hand, but I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. She wouldn’t dare do something to me here.
Right?
“Why are you here, Nora?” I aim for a casual tone, but I’m not sure I’m successful. She doesn’t seem to notice, though. She’s examining the contents of my room, taking in my personal space and possessions with an assessing eye. Her jaw is clenched tight and rage flashes behind her gaze. When she responds, her tone is even but tight.
“Can’t a mother drop in for a surprise visit to her daughter?”
In most cases, sure, that wouldn’t be a big deal. But we aren’t most cases.
She doesn’t care if I’m dead or alive—just that she gets what she thinks she deserves.
“It’s just that … you usually send Ghost is all.” I’m cautious when I bring him up, but I can’t deny that I’m curious about what happened after he last left here. My suspicion is that’s why she’s come.
To discipline me for messing with Ghost.
She bares her teeth, and I can see she’s struggling to remain cool and collected, but it’s obvious that she’s seething on the inside.
“Ghost is gone,” she says, her voice almost a hiss.
I have enough sense to let my mouth tumble open in surprise. “Dead?”