“Look, Mom, I’ll move in with my girlfriends. We’ll walk to class in groups.”
“Yeah, I know how that goes. Didn’t you tell me that half the time your closest friends don’t show up where they say they will?”
Frowning, I shake my head. Divulging even a scrap of information is dangerous. She always finds a way to twist it.
“Tavi, yes, but not Eden. And I can organize the walking groups myself. The girls on my team will do what I say.”
“No, I don’t trust that. If you don’t want to live with Erik Sorensen, come home. I have a lot on my plate. Nanna’s coming and while I’m busy, there are things—”
“No way.” I clench my jaw so hard my teeth may crack. I amnotgetting trapped again. My Cinderella slave days are over.
“We’re month-to-month on your lease, Arya. I can call the landlord today and end that. And my next call after that will be to the GU bursar’s office. This time your dad won’t object because he doesn’t want you there anymore, either.”
I stare at the wall with unseeing eyes. Sometime in the next day or two, my parents will hear about two new GU murder victims. If I don’t agree to the Sorensen arrangement right now, I won’t get the chance again. Three dead bodies will be the tipping point, and I’ll be forced to go home.
“All right.” My voice sounds as flat as new pavement.
My parents have no fucking clue what they’re asking me to do. But they wouldn’t. They make lightning quick decisions. Even about things that are none of their business. Even when they have big enough holes in their plans to drive a semi through.
“All right,” Mom says. “Do your best to be polite and unobtrusive, Arya. Like when you were young. Everyone misses that sweet girl.”
Of course, you do,I think sourly. There was a time when jumping in to help my mom with anything she asked was normal. “Mommy has a headache, Ary. Finish these spreadsheets for me while I lie down. Auntie needs a babysitter this weekend. There will be other school dances. It’s not a big one anyway.” A million requests, and I always stepped up. Until she tricked and betrayed me.
“I’ll be as nice to Erik Sorensen as he is to me,” I say. “I’ve gotta go pack. Talk to you later.” I end the call before she has the chance to say goodbye.
The dryer’s signal announces my boots are done tumbling. Perfect timing.
At least Sorensen knows I hate him. I’ll keep my distance, and he can keep his.
I dress in burgundy Lycra stretch pants with flared bells at the bottom and a pale pink sweater with matching burgundy stripes. The top really needs a bra, but my sports bra rubbed a small raw spot under my arm and every one of my bras irritates it.
Glancing down, I blow out an annoyed breath. My barbell nipple piercings are clearly visible. Luis coerced me into getting myself pierced, and after, I cried all night.
At first, I kept them as a reminder of mistakes I’d never make again. Now, they’re my talismans, but I always keep them well hidden.
I reconsider putting a bra on, scowling at the thought.
Fuck it. I’m not wearing clothes that hurt.
Walking out into the living room, I stop next to the coffee table.
Sorensen’s eyes lock on my chest immediately. In some ways, male behavior is as reliable as Greenwich Mean Time.
“All right, Viking. You’re my bodyguard.”
6
ERIK
With three suitcases, a steamer trunk, and a cooler, Arya Peralta is making a point. Dance princesses don’t live out of a duffle bag in the corner of a man’s loft.
The luggage is Louis Vuitton, which means the set probably costs as much as my SUV. Rich girls and their designer shit… what a waste.
She picks up a handbag that’s so small her lipsticks must be claustrophobic, and carrying that purse is her contribution to the moving process.
“Is your uncle a doctor or hospital administrator?” she asks.
“Neither.”
