“Pig,” I mutter under my breath.
I tense when his knee brushes against mine beneath the table.
“What was that?” he whispers.
He’s so close I can smell his spicy, rich cologne.
Again, refusing to let him intimidate me, I square my shoulders and raise my head. Our mouths are way too close, especially given that we’re stepsiblings.
“I called you a pig,” I repeat, locking gazes with him.
His eye twitches, but suddenly, he backs away to lean in his seat with even more arrogance than I thought possible. “Takes one to know one.”
I jerk backward. “Excuse me?” My jaw slacks with shock. “Takes one to know one? Are you saying that because of the stupid stunt you pulled at the party? You and I both know that you set me up.”
Am I still pissed off about that? Absolutely.
But I’ll be damned if I let my own personal bully know how riled up he got me.
“Did I, though?”
Cross lifts his hip and digs into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone. His movements are slow, his fingers swiping lazily across the screen until a smug smile appears on his face. Alarm bells go off in my head.
He holds his phone steady and slides it across the table until it’s right in front of me. He nudges his chin to it, and I follow his silent instruction and stare at the screen.
I don’t have to zoom in to know what it is.
Shame pulls the blood from my face. A cold sweat breaks out along my forehead, and my stomach drops to the floor. “Where–” I clear my throat and hastily shove the phone away. “Where did you get that?”
There’s no use in deleting the photo. He’s smart enough to have back-up copies.
Cross leaves his phone untouched to stare at me. “Is that why you left Yale? Because you needed a new pool of dicks to choose from?”
It’s as if he’s slapped me. His words cut deep, the burn of humiliation stinging my skin. He has no idea what he’s talking about, but I make no move to correct him.
Cross’s arms rest against the table as he leans closer to me, a dirty smirk etched onto his face. “What would Daddy think if he knew his daughter was a slut?”
“A prescription for Plan B makes me a slut?” I manage to keep my voice steady, but I’m trembling on the inside.
Cross shrugs. “It doesn’t look good, step-sis. Given you came onto me at the party, and then this? I think your father will be able to connect the dots.”
I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t come onto you at the party, and you fucking know it.”
“Shh–”
Cross and I both turn to look at the girl sitting at the front desk. She puts her finger up to her lips and sends us a scathing look. We turn back toward one another, and the longer we lock gazes, the more sinister his smile becomes. My stomach turns, and it takes everything in me not to shift in my seat.
“You’re shaking,” he says.
Shit.
One eyebrow crooks. “That’s very telling…”
“I’m shaking because I’m so angry!”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You’re shaking because you’re afraid I’m going to show this to your father.”
Of course I am!
