“Fuck you,” I auto-reply, holding still in his grip.
“That was a one-time thing, sweetheart. The Saints never go back for seconds.”
I’ve heard the rumors. That they never date. They only fuck girls once. And they always fuck girls as if it’s a team sport. But I’ve also heard they ignore their conquests after they’ve spread their legs. I know why I’m different, but no one else does, and their public expression of interest in me will make others suspicious.
“Good,” I say, “because I’d rather slit my throat and die a slow and painful death than fuck any of you again.”
“Liar.” His warm breath fans over my ear, and my body betrays me, shivering as delicious tremors zip through my limbs.
Most everyone in the cafeteria is watching us, so when he speaks, he has the attention of the entire place. “Listen up.” His deep voice projects around the room. “The princess is off-limits. She belongs to us. Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
I’m still puzzling over it hours later when I arrive home, parking my SUV in the ten-car garage beside Mom’s silver BMW and a strange red truck.
I’m cursing Saint under my breath as I saunter into the two-story beige-brick house, plotting various ways to murder him. I’m resourceful and skilled, and it doesn’t take me long to compile a long list. I’m grinning to myself as I imagine ripping his heart from his body and putting it through a blender as I watch him bleed out slowly on the floor, gasping for air as he gradually dies.
I walk through the lobby, past the sweeping hardwood stairs with the mirrored banisters, along the porcelain-tiled hallway. I pass by the closed door of Dad’s study, the library, and reading room, and head straight for the open-plan kitchen and dining room, searching for Mom, but she isn’t there. Remembering the unfamiliar red truck, I head toward the formal living room next. That’s where she usually brings guests. But that room is empty too. Sounds of laughter filter from the main living area, and I head in that direction, unprepared for the sight that awaits me.
I stand stock-still in the doorway, blinking excessively, wishing my eyes were deceiving me when I know they’re not.
Mom is lying flat on her back on one of the gray leather couches, smiling up at the man looming over her. They are fully clothed, but their bodies are strategically positioned in a way that confirms familiarity, and I see red. I storm into the room like a wild tornado hellbent on destruction.
“What the fuck is going on?” I roar as I round the couch, stopping in front of them. My dirty boots leave a trail of mud on the gray, pink, and white rug I know she spent a fortune on, but I don’t care.
At this proximity, it’s even worse. Mom’s legs are parted, and the man is thrusting his hips against hers. I don’t need to see his erection to know he’s sporting one. His hand is kneading her breast through her blouse, and I’m seconds away from personal nuclear detonation.
I cannot fucking believe this.
Her head turns to the side, and she looks at me with a horrified expression, swatting at the man’s chest, trying to push him off. But the guy is tall and well-built, and Mom’s small hands do nothing.
The man jerks his head up, his icy-blue eyes locking on mine. All the blood drains from my face as I watch a sleazy smile creep over his mouth. My heart stutters in my chest.
“Hello, sweetheart.” His gruff voice sends shards of dread coursing all over my body, and hatred blooms in my chest.
A thin line of sweat glides down my spine as my heart starts thumping wildly, careening around my rib cage. Blood rushes to my ears, and pain throbs in my skull.
Inside, I’m a mess. My emotions rage at me, begging to be set free. I’ve been assaulted on several fronts today, but I won’t let this break me. I paint an appropriate mask on my face so he can’t see the turmoil turning my insides upside down.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, my gaze jumping between him and Mom as I execute my role perfectly.
“I’m your new daddy,” he answers, and I lunge at him without hesitation.
CHAPTER 5
IHALF-GRABhim off my mom, ignoring her screams as I ram my fist in his face. Rage surges to the surface, and I unleash the beast, thrusting my fist forward again.
He reacts superfast, rolling off the couch onto the floor, grabbing hold of my ankle, and tugging sharply. I go down hard, landing flat on my back with pain darting up my spine. But my reflexes are quick too, and before he can climb over me and subdue me, I lift my leg, jamming my knee into his junk. An animalistic roar rips from his throat as he collapses on his side, clutching his crotch and writhing in agony. I climb to my feet as Mom scurries to his side. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“She kneed me in the balls!” he shouts. “Of course, I’m not okay.” He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning as I stand over them with my hands on my hips, my eyes fastened on my mom’s hand as she sweeps it up and down his arm in a soothing gesture.
Anger pummels my insides, and I glare at her.
“Everyone, just calm down,” she says, eyeing me warily. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Harlow. I wasn’t expecting you home for another hour.”
“Clearly,” I deadpan.
“You didn’t go to kickboxing class?”
“The instructor got sick. Canceled the class at lunchtime.”
