But not for the reason he thinks.
I am the furthest thing from a slut. I’ve willingly had sex with two people, and the other…well, that’s why I’m at ShadowValley, arguing with my stepbrother about what he found. My dad has no idea why I chose not to go back to Yale, and if he finds out I was date-raped at a frat party, things will go from bad to worse.
“What do you want?” I quietly snap. “Are you still trying to get back at me, even after you embarrassed me at the party in front of everyone?"
Cross taps his long fingers on the table before swiping his phone into the palm of his hand and putting it into his pocket. “You’re done tutoring me.”
I scoff. “No skin off my back if you don’t show up.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not what I mean, baby sis.”
My eye twitches with the pet name.
His lip rises. “You’re done tutoring me because you’re going to do the work for me.”
I shoot up out of my seat, and my chair crashes to the floor. Cross leans back and folds his arms over his chest, a knowing smile on his face. It’s obvious he likes to provoke me, but I’m too angry to play it cool. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m doing your homework. I am not your servant.”
“You will be if you want me to keep your dirty little secret,” he says.
My mouth closes abruptly, and I stare at him from above.
I wish I could call him on his bluff, but I know he isn’t joking.
Cross grabs the leg of my chair and puts it in its upright position before pointing to it. “Sit.”
I do as he says. His sneer catches my eye. He digs into his bag for a piece of paper that he shoves toward me.
“This is due Thursday,” he says lazily. “It better be an A.”
Instead of leveling him with an insult like I want to do, I slap my hand on the paper and slide it over to my side of the table. He stands with his backpack over his shoulder and towers over me.
“That’s my good girl.” He winks and then taps me on the head.
I almost bite him, but by the time I recover, he’s already walking out of the library.
[ 11 ]
CROSS
“Stop!”
My trainer pushes me and my fighting partner apart. I pivot, and he follows me to the far corner of the ring. I lean on the ropes and focus on my breathing, but it’s hard when I’m so irrationally angry. My shoulders hunch. Recovery isn’t going as fast as I want, and I’m pissed that I put myself in the position to get hurt.
Still, a few bruised ribs is better than a concussion that will follow me around for the rest of my life. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
“Lopez.” My trainer shakes my arm. “You hear the boss hollering for you?”
I straighten and pull out my mouthguard. “Missed it.”
I duck under the ropes and hop down off the platform. The fighters working the bags or with partners around the edges of the huge room ignore me. Their illusion that I was unstoppable has been shattered. My reputation has been stained.
Isthatworth twenty thousand dollars?
My gut says no, but I haven’t put the money to use. Beyond Scarlett discovering it, I bought a safe and shoved the cigar box into it so no one else could stumble upon it…or worse, steal it.
“Come on, boy,” Stanley calls, poking his head out of his second-floor office.
I pick up the pace and jog up the stairs, my body only giving a mild twinge of pain. The bruises have faded to mottled green and yellow, but my shirt hides it.
