“What makes you feel that way?” I inquire, knowing it’s probably the case, but I don’t want to assume Vivian is stupid enough to harass Selection picks.
Ariah huffs. “She’s continuously marking my grades lower than they should be, even after the situation was already addressed. And she’s always making snide comments.”
That sounds precisely like Vivian.
Once we reach the front office door, I hold it open, allowing Ariah to exit. She mumbles her thanks and steps through the door. The candy floral scent of her perfume fills my nose, and I have to fight the urge to flare my nostrils.
“I know she’s your ex or whatever,” she states, making me stumble momentarily.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It’s all over the school, and if the rumors weren’t enough, her direct threat to stay away from you a couple of months ago solidified the fact,” she rushes out.
I feel the headache that was a dull ache earlier double. Vivian is a fucking nuisance that I created out of my need for vengeance.
Ariah’s arm swings out, stopping us before we exit the school building. “Look, I get you’re not a fan of this whole process. I wasn’t at first. Fuck, I’m still not completely on board, but we’re in this, and I would appreciate it if you could get her to back off before I do something to make my point.”
Turning, I face her, watching the flare of her nose and the flush of her cheeks. “And what exactly is it you intend to do?”
“Fuck you in front of her.”
I choke on air, covering up the sound with a fake cough. “You shouldn’t tempt fate.”
My words cause her silver eyes to narrow. “I’m not scared of my civics teacher.”
A smirk grows on my face. “She’s not the fate you’re tempting, Spitfire.” Her eyes dilate at the shift in my voice— smooth and deep. “I’m not sure you know what you’re signing up for with me,” I state, stepping into her space and bending to whisper in her ear. “Your throat would be hoarse by the time we were through.” I stand and step back, enjoying the flush in her skin— now from lust instead of anger. Moving around her, I say, “I’ll deal with Miss Taylor. Have an amazing holiday Miss Bishop.” Then, I make my way out the door, leaving her with her mouth hanging open before I tip my head in Thomas’s direction as I pass him to reach my car.
I know I shouldn’t have teased her like that, but the image of her counting as she’s laid out on my bed shot my ability to make good decisions right out the window.
My mood sours the minute I put my car in drive. Now, I need to go and deal with a lingering problem.
* * *
The Taylor estatesits on the edge of town. Like most of Edgewood’s homes, it spans acres and sits behind a gate.
I pull into the horseshoe driveway and park, jumping out and climbing the ridiculous amount of steps to the door. Before I can knock, it swings open.
“Sebastian,” Vivian’s mother gasps, “I have to say I never thought I’d see you at our door again. I guess Vivi was telling the truth for once when she said you two were getting back together.”
Of course the lying wench would say that.
“No. We’re not anything. You know the Selection has started, and even if it didn’t, I’d never subject myself to your daughter’s ideas of love again,” I state emphatically.
Mrs. Taylor’s posture visibly relaxes, stepping aside to let me in the house. “I knew you were a smart boy, Bash. I don’t know where we went wrong with Vivi— she’s always been so thirsty for power.”
I follow her to the sitting room as she prattles on about how sorry she is and how she would’ve told me if she had known what her daughter was up to. I appreciate her candor. She’s always been straightforward.
“Where is Vivian now? I need to discuss something important with her.”
“She’s in the guest house at the back of the property. She’s living there until, in her words, ‘I get Bash back.’ I’m going to need to speak with her father now that I know she’s lying again. You know where to go. It was good to see you again, Sebastian. Make sure, whatever you boys do, you don’t pick that Davenport girl. She reminds me too much of Vivi,” she states before leaving the room.
My stomach roils at the thought of ever being tied to another soul-sucking leech like Vivian. Samantha Davenport is a close second to the woman I thought would be mine forever.
I hear the moans before I even open the door to the guest house.
“Fuck, ride me fucking harder, Vivian or I’ll flip you over and take what I want,” the voice of my father nearly catapults me back to the scene in our home that day.
“Shut the fuck up. You’re here to get me pregnant and nothing else. We have a limited window for Bash to believe this baby is his,” Vivian’s vile voice snarls.
