Lilac holds out her hand, displaying the huge-ass ring I bought her.
“Let’s make something clear. Irvin is a married man—mymarried husband. If you don’t want the hell beaten out of you, stay away from him.”
Judy smiles and leaves.
I slide my fingers into my pocket. “What’s the problem, my princess?”
She glares, balling her fists and digging her nails into her palms.
“You’re not having a mistress, Irvin,” she sneers.
I straighten my spine. “Why do you care? You don’t want to have anything to do with me, right? Plus, I’m allowed to have a mistress.”
“I don’t care.” She bites her thumbnail.
I cup her cheeks and gaze into her stormy eyes—so beautiful. “Then why are you upset, my princess?”
She steps back. Again. And again. Exhaling deeply. “Because if I can’t be with anyone else, you can’t either. It’s not fair. I have to commit to you, and you can’t commit to me?”
She storms off, but I grab her hand and pull her close. Her breath hitches, her gaze lingering on my mouth.
“I need some fresh air,” she murmurs.
I watch her slam the front door.
A grin spreads across my face.
My princess is jealous—and she’s hiding it. That means she wants me. Now I just have to manipulate her into admitting it.
This will be fun.
Lilac
Irvin yanks me close, tucking me under his arm. I inhale a dose of his cedarwood scent. I study the fine threads of his shirt. He slides his fingers into mine, and I want to pull away, but I choose not to. I have to keep this façade—that I’m interested in him. So I can break his heart.
We’re at the diner not far from campus. The greasy food makes my mouth water, and the old jukebox plays a jazz tune.
Last night, when Judy told me she was going to be Irvin’s mistress, I saw red. To be honest, I don’t know why I was filled with rage. I wanted to claw her eyes out for even saying those words. The same emotions I felt for him surfaced—before he tricked me into marrying him. The feelings I had for him weren’t real. I need to keep my cool and keep my guard up. I need to keep pretending to care about him. So far, it hasn’t worked. He’s seeing through my bullshit.
So I asked him out on a date. Simple. Basic. Don’t look suspicious.
He studies my floral long-sleeve dress down to my ankle boots. “You asking me out on a date caught me by surprise.”
I need to stay on my toes with him. I need to get into his head so I can break him. And what better way than to play into his delusion that I actually want him?
I shrug. “I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life, so I might as well try to get along with you.”
He smirks, takes a fry from my plate, dips it in ranch, and pops it in his mouth.
How far can I push Irvin? I want to see if he’s onto me. I want to see what I can get away with.
“Can I have your white Mustang?”
He reaches into his back pocket and slides the key into my hand.
This is off-putting. Why the hell is he being so nice to me? What’s with the change in behavior? Is he still worried that I’ll try to escape him? I don’t like this new attitude—because now I have to figure out my next move.
The keys feel heavy in my palm, so I tuck them in my purse.
