Page 158 of Mad Girl

“Well,” Nic said, gaze flitting over to you, “maybe Casey could…limit his courses to two days a week, and I could work from home when he isn’t here. That way, someone’s always here to hang out with you. We can sort out the details later.”

“You say that as if it’s definitely happening.” I dropped my spoon, no longer hungry. “As if I don’t even have a choice in the matter.”

“You always have a choice,” Nic said. “But you’ve had a tough year, honey. So I’d really like you to consider doing this for yourself.”

What a convenient way to use my assault against me. Nearly dying hadn’t kept me from excelling in my classes, acing my college interview, or sailing through midterms. So what if I’d missed the deadline to apply for early decision? Got sent to the headmaster’s office that one time? Disappeared with Willoughby once? Cut myself? Sent someone to the ER? Still had nightmares?

Okay, so maybe I hadn’t actually sailed through anything. Just barely kept my head above water. But still.

“Right,” I said, rising from the table. “Because it’s totally normal to put off college for no reason at all.”

“I just gave you several reasons,” Nic said. “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs.”

Late that night, after Tinsley and Bree had drifted off to sleep, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs.

Michael peeled back three blankets before pulling me onto his lap. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged, hands resting on his shoulders.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I would’ve loved to take a gap year. I was so pissed when my mom fought my dad on it.”

“But it’s putting my life on hold for nothing.” Or was it? Maybe Nic wanted me to defer because I’d hurt Sienna. Because he knew I’d want to live on campus, where he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on me anymore. “It puts me a whole year behind everyone else.”

“Who’s everyone else?” Michael asked with a snort. “None of your classmates are heirs to a billion-dollar empire. Unlike them, your future’s already secure. You don’t have to worry about someone coming along to take Nic’s place before you finish school. The firm’s yours whenever you want it—or whenever Nic steps down. Whichever comes first.”

“You think he’ll actually give it to me? That he’ll ever trust me with that kind of responsibility?”

“He’d be stupid not to. You’ll make a more formidable president than all the men who’ve come before you—and your dad knows it.” He pressed his lips to my neck. Against my pulse, he whispered, “I keep telling you: you’re a total badass.”

As Garland watched on with disapproval, we kissed and nipped at each other, Michael’s breaths quickly becoming ragged as he jerked my camisole down to my waist.

He groaned as I moved on top of him, his lips drifting across my collarbone. “Think about it,” he whispered. “You and me. My bed. How hot it’ll be.”

My chest crackled as I dragged my nails through his hair, pressing his mouth closer still.

And then⁠—

A deep voice, piercing through it all. “What the hell?”

I knew that voice well: John.

Your dad strode into the room with my dad trailing close behind him.

“Oh my God.” Mortified, I twisted to face Garland, struggling to yank up my camisole. Michael’s hands fluttered up my arms, helping me pull the straps back into place.

John directed a vicious look at Michael. “What’s going on here?”

Michael readjusted himself while I crossed both arms over my chest, suddenly hyper aware of how cold it was in that room.

We fumbled through an explanation, a jumble of muttered words that couldn’t have possibly made sense.

John pointed at me, then pointed to the sofa across from the coffee table. “Go sit over there.”

So I did, trembling along the way. Nic snatched my Harvard sweatshirt off the back of the sofa and tossed it at me.

John looked at my dad, standing still and perfectly silent. “Nic, how are you so calm about this?”