Why did I even get ready?
Why was I even trying?
It would always be like this.
This push and pull.
This need for me to go to him when he always told me to run.
Stupid.
I was seriously so stupid.
I needed to move.
It was the only option.
Any one of the bosses would take me in—I’d be safe anywhere, right?
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, though? I wondered as I made my way outside to his waiting Tesla.
Maybe I was the exception? Not the rule? Hah, said every girl out there when they think they can change the hot guy who has no morals.
My heels clicked against the concrete as I walked toward him. Ash looked like something out of a magazine. Tall, dark, handsome—lethal. How many weapons did he have under that perfectly tailored black suit?
He wasn’t wearing a tie, which meant his chest tattoos were on full view as I took careful steps toward him. The last thing I needed to do was trip in my heels and skin both knees.
His aviators hid his eyes from me.
And I hated that I’d turned into the exact girl that needed to see the guy check her out—see his eyes dilate with pleasure.
I gripped the faux snakeskin clutch in my right hand and forced a smile. “Ready?”
The only movement he made was the slight tick in his jaw; his hands were still shoved in his pockets, his body relaxed and yet tense. “Who dressed you?”
“Wow.” I gritted my teeth. “You look nice too, thanks. Oh, what was that? You’ll get the door for me?”
He still didn’t move.
After multiple curses under his breath that had me blushing in embarrassment, he pushed away from the car and jerked open the door in one fluid movement. “Get in.”
A year ago, I think I would have started to cry all over again, or at least felt the burn behind my eyes.
But tonight?
I was pissed.
Because I could see where he’d taken me against the grass, where he’d chased me, just like I could envision the pool where we nearly had sex but never finished. Or his bedroom. His bathroom.
I could count on both hands the amounts of times he’d given me this exact expression, only to act on it then blame me afterward as if I was some succubus out to lure him into my web of sex and pain.
The engine didn’t roar to life when he got in. He simply pulled out of his driveway and never once looked in my direction or tried to make small talk or even say, “Hey, last night was weird, am I right?”
Instead, he drove.
I sat, painfully aware of my own breathing and of the tight dress.
I should have worn the stupid sweater dress.
Then again, how dare he make me feel like a whore! It was for him! Only ever for him, and he couldn’t even smile?
The drive downtown was short, maybe sixteen minutes, and with each passing second, I got more and more angry to the point that all I could focus on was strangling him or just knocking that perfect smile off his face and stepping on his sunglasses, kicking off my heels and running in the opposite direction.
Ash pulled the car aggressively into the Regis while I pulled out my phone and sent off a text that may as well be a breakup.
Then again, like everyone said.
All I’d had was his face between my thighs.
His heart?
He’d buried that a long time ago, in a grave next to the church he built for the only girl to ever hold it.
And it was time.
That I finally let him go, just like I had her.
Me: Can you arrange for me to live somewhere else?
Chase: …Are you sure that’s what you want?
“Annie!” Ash snapped his fingers. “We gotta go, stop snapchatting for like two seconds, all right? There’s photographers, and I have an image to uphold.”
I reared back like I was staring at a monster.
And without thinking twice, deleted the NO.
And as I slowly got out of the car looked down and typed YES.
Chapter Thirty
“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us, while we live.” —Normal Cousins
Ash
My focus was complete shit.
I’d nearly blacked out when she walked toward me in that dress. I’d never been so damn thankful for sunglasses to steel my expression. Her hips, breasts, and even more so, the brave face she wore reminded me that she was trying to be strong in a world that preyed on the weak. She was beautiful. Brave. Stunning. And she hated me.
“Remember,” Dad had reminded me again that morning. “Your cruelty has to sell this, Ash. It has to be believable. Every reaction she has, every moment anyone’s watching the hurt in her eyes, the chaos in yours, they’ll see weakness, they’ll approach her—you, either or. You protect your cousins at all cost, and in this little sting, you take the fall. You wanted to be their King—now prove you can rule.”