She hadn’t said Jade’s name. Hadn’t mentioned her lack of pedigree. Hadn’t demanded I break it off.
Yet.
But I knew better than to think this was acceptance. This wasamusement.A game.
Jade and I had barely been a thing for two weeks. I hadn’t even told my mother I liked her—really liked her—and already the whispers were clawing at our edges.
I hated that I’d lied.
But the second I even thought about telling her the truth, I saw how it would go.
She’d schedule a luncheon with the Dean, call in favors from the board, maybe “reallocate” Jade’s scholarship behind closed doors.
I’d seen her destroy families with a single phone call—all for less than this.
And I couldn’t let her get anywhere near Jade.
Not when I was finally figuring out what it felt like to want someone for more than just fun.
Not when Jade looked at me like I was real—even when she hated me for it.
So I played the part.
I let my mother believe I was still the prince of Royal Oaks.
And deep down, I made a silent vow:
If anyone came for Jade—evenher—I’d burn this legacy to the ground.
I as upstairs trying to escape my parents when I got her text:
GN. Miss you. Sweet dreams.
Are you tired?
Gitanilla: Not Really.
I’ll be over in 15. Sneak out.
I hadn’t even gotten the damn vehicle in park before Jade slipped inside like the wind carried her in.
Tight black leggings that hugged her legs like they were tailored to ruin me. A Royal Oaks hoodie too big for her frame, but somehow made her look even smaller, more stealable. Her hair was down—long, loose, and whipping slightly in the ocean breeze like some slow-motion scene from a movie that would never leave my head.
And her scent? Beach salt, mint chapstick, and something wild and female I couldn’t name but wanted bottled just for me.
She barely got the door closed before I grabbed her. One hand in that silky hair. The other cupping her cheek.
I kissed her like I needed it to breathe.
Messy. Deep. All-in.
Her fingers tangled in the front of my sweatshirt like she didn’t want to let go either.
When I finally pulled back, she blinked up at me like I’d just yanked her from a dream. Maybe I had. I didn’t say anything. I just grinned, then reached for the gearshift.
“Where are we going?” she asked, breathless.
I looked over, and yeah—my heart did a full somersault. Stupid muscle had no chill when it came to her. “To my spot,” I said simply. “Trust me.”
