“The dance team, how are they texting me?”
“Yeah, we mentioned you to Declan’s ex, Eden. You’re alone too much,” I say.
Not that Avery needs Eden and her squad for company on campus anymore, since I’ve taken up bodyguard duty.
“It was a nice gesture, but you didn’t need to do that. I have friends. I just haven’t had time to cultivate those relationships. My schedule this semester is crazy.” Her voice is soft, but also a little defensive.
“Nothing wrong with working hard. I just figured it couldn’t hurt to have some female upperclassmen take an interest.”
She licks her lips and nods, her expression softening. “I appreciate it.”
“So tonight? That’s settled?”
She grimaces. “I guess so. Yes.”
There are layers to her that I don’t understand. Yet.
I wonder if she realizes she’s thrown down the gauntlet by claiming she’ll only give up her virginity if she’s emotionally invested. Rising to the occasion isn’t just something my cock does. It’s one of my defining characteristics.
14
AVERY
My world is officially spinning out of control.
Shane will neither confirm nor deny that his grandfather is in charge of the Irish Mafia, which almost certainly means he is. This is a terrible development because it means the darkness inside Shane, that he’s often alluded to, is much blacker than I imagined.
Pieces shift slowly into place. The gun. The fights. His calm confidence when promising to deal with the man who splashed me with rose water. The Shane I’ve known is an illusion. The handsome, quick-witted boy who carried my science project sandbags seems to have been a cover for who he really is. I can’t even wrap my head around that. Mafia is synonymous with murder-for-hire, right? Has Shane actually killed someone?
My mom texts several times. I assure her I’ve left Mr. Sullivan’s and am safely back at school. Beyond that I don’t know what to say to her yet. I’m noncommittal in my texts. I need to talk with her and Ethan. Like Shane, there’s a lot they’ve been hiding from me.
Meanwhile, I’m having an off-the-rails shady Cinderella day.
Shane has a personal shopper waiting for me at an upscale department store. She seems to understand her assignment better than I do because within forty minutes, I’ve tried on five dresses in silvery shades, and one has been charged to Shane’s account.
Next, he drops me off at a spa appointment that some unnamed assistant made for me. I’m exfoliated, waxed, and covered in nourishing body butter. My skin feels amazing, and my pussy feels very, very bare.
As I’m leaving the spa, I recognize some trust fund girls from school. For them, it’s a day of pampering. For me, it was something else. I feel like a harem girl who’s been groomed for her big night with the sultan. Which isn’t to say the scalp massage wasn’t fantastic. I might start donating plasma to afford another one.
When I emerge, Shane’s leaning against his car, waiting. His gaze rakes over me, seemingly taking inventory of his property.
Give some men an inch, and they take a mile.
“It was one orgasm,” I whisper, giving him a salty expression.
“Pardon?” The word is prep-school polite, but his tone holds a dangerous challenge.
In return, my tone is ‘you need to take me seriously’ firm. “Don’t treat me like your trophy wife, Shane. I’m not that girl.”
My hand reaches for the car door's handle, but his catches it. His hand is so much bigger it closes over mine entirely.
“That’s a shame.” From his tone it’s clear my accusation doesn’t trouble him. “I’ve never been in the market for a trophy girlfriend before, but you’d make a good one.” He leans forward, so his mouth is near my ear. When he speaks, his voice is low and teasing. “Did you let them wax it? Or did you keep your curls?”
I want to kill him, but for some reason, I laugh softly, even as my face flames with embarrassment. So that wasn’t just part of a generic spa package he bought; Shane actually told them he wanted me waxed. Unbelievably high-handed.
And his implying that I could’ve said no increases my discomfort. It didn’t occur to me to refuse. Why didn’t it? Maybe because a part of me is starting to feel like Iamone of Shane’s possessions.
I purse my lips and give him a little shake of my head. “That information is need-to-know, and you don’t.”
