“Yeah, that. I have work to do. I need to be able to concentrate.” Her eyes dart to my face, then away. “Three times a week?”
“Once a day. Final offer.”
She glances back at me and is silent. The seconds tick by, and then she finally says, “All right.”
It’s a complete mind-fuck.
My innocent little stepsister’s just signed on to be my sex toy.
3
AVERY
Asingle hour of sleep, filled with nightmares, is probably not a good foundation for sound decision-making. By the time I got to Shane’s, my mind was running on adrenaline and espresso, and I had one thought in my head. Destiny is testing me, and for once, I am going to win the stare-down.
I’m staying at school until the end of the semester because I want an internship that would allow me to work for Roxie Keller, a twenty-seven-year-old badass whose career I started following after I heard her on a podcast about entrepreneurship.
Her background is similar to mine in that she was raised by a single mom who wanted her to fit a certain mold that she didn’t. There were so many things Roxie said on that podcast that made me feel like she was talking directly to me. She spoke of her obsession with finance and technology and how she practically dropped out of society for a couple of years to pursue her passion. Software that uses computer modeling to choose high-return investments was born of her single-minded focus. Six years after starting it, she sold her company for nine figures.
When I learned she was consulting at Ralston Enterprises and there was an internship available to work with her, I felt like it was meant for me. That maybe this opportunity was the whole cosmic reason I ended up at Granthorpe, where I didn’t want to come because of Shane. The Ralston founder is a GU alum who has ties to its faculty. Even after the third Casanova abduction, I told myself I would not leave.
And then the rose appeared in my bed. After the police were no help, I almost called Ethan in a panic to ask him to pick me up. Instead, I white-knuckled it out in my dorm room until dawn and then came to Shane’s. It’s the one place at GU that I know I’ll be safe from Casanova.
The semester is almost over, but I knew convincing Shane to let me move in would be almost impossible. I told myself to keep going until I found something he needed.
Bartering with sex never entered my mind. But as soon as he suggested it, I knew it was the only winning card I had. So I played it.
If I let myself think for too long about our new filthy arrangement, my mind reels. So I’m trying not to think. Instead, I’m riding the adrenaline-and-coffee express to the end.
I spend a couple hours heading back and forth between my dorm room and Shane’s house by bus, bringing clothes and books to his place. Every time I glance at my bed where the rose laid in wait I feel a new surge of determination. I am not going to let a smug woman-hater force me to leave my school.
Casanova’s hunting ground is the campus. My stepbrother’s house is safely off campus. Also, Shane is prepared for trouble. When we both lived at Ethan’s, I discovered a gun in Shane’s nightstand. He never mentioned it, or even hinted that he had it. But I knew that if anyone ever broke into the house, they would get a nasty surprise.
Once in high school, before Shane and I had our falling out, a creepy guy tried to put his arm around me, and I pulled away. The guy joked, “Careful. I’m the guy who gets mad enough to show up with an AK to shoot up the school.” Everyone laughed nervously, except Shane. With ice in his voice, Shane said, “And I’m the guy who ends your run before you clear the first hall.” Then it was the guy’s turn to laugh nervously and quickly say he was joking. Shane nodded but didn’t laugh. I could tell he was serious, especially when he added, “Don’t ever try to touch her again.”
There is a sharp serrated edge to Shane that I’ve caught glimpses of when someone acts threatening. There’s no doubt in my mind that if Casanova tries to force his way into the house, Shane will stop him.
Sure, the price of feeling safe is higher than I ever imagined, but I’m willing to pay it so I can sleep at night. I settle into the plum and light gray guest room. A gorgeous purple and glowing orange photograph of Boston at night hangs over the bed. Except for that picture, the room feels very generic.
There are two other rooms on the second floor that interest me. One door is locked. The other is open a crack to reveal a king-sized bed with massive wood and aluminum head and foot boards. It dominates Shane’s room and draws more than my eyes. I resist the temptation to walk in and look around.
I head downstairs to the front room where Shane sits on the familiar black couch…the dreaded one. I thought Ethan threw it away or donated it to charity. No. It’s here. A dark reminder of the past.
Shane leans back, his feet resting on the coffee table as he looks at his phone.
I glance at a large black-and-white framed photograph on the wall. In it, Shane’s shirtless and in sharp focus with a cigarette hanging from his lips. There’s a white bandage on his shoulder that’s partially obscured by the smoke. In the blurry background, there’s a bikini-clad girl lying on a wooden deck next to a hot tub. Steam and mountains rise behind them. I presume the picture was taken at Declan’s family’s house in Aspen, probably by Declan. I wonder about the cigarette and the bandage. I’ve never seen Shane smoke, and I’ve never seen him wounded. The image reminds me that I don’t really know him anymore. Maybe I never did.
“There’s a room upstairs that stays locked,” he says, drawing my attention. “It’s off-limits.”
I walk away from the picture to join him. “Who’s up there? Your sex slave?”
“No. My sex slave’s standing in front of me.” The statement is deadpan, and I think he’s joking. At least I hope he is. The line still makes my stomach flip and my face flame.
I give him a blistering look, and for the briefest second, the corner of his mouth twitches like he’ll smirk, but he doesn’t. His formidable resistance to engaging in any friendly moments with me is not new. It’s been in place since that terrible morning when our parents turned on him because of me.
I sigh, trying not to think about it. We’ve all thought about it way too much since it effectively broke up the family.
Walking away, I turn my attention to next steps. First, I grab my last small bag and head back upstairs. I approach the secret room, glancing at the door handle. Pausing to examine the lock, my fingers explore the smooth curves of the brass.
