Turning the card over, I find red writing scrawled across the back.
Someone’s been a very naughty girl…
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself. “Stop being suck a fucking creep,” I shout, assuming that he’s probably watching me right now and Theo’s words about going to the boss were bullshit. “It’s weird.”
Not hearing or seeing anything to confirm my suspicion about him watching me, I lift my bag up higher on my shoulder and head for the house.
Silence greets me, and I sigh in relief. As much as I might want answers, I want them from my father, not our staff.
I grab myself a bottle of water and a bag of chips from the kitchen before forcing my exhausted legs to drag me up the stairs.
The spa might have been relaxing, but all I want to do now is curl up in bed and sleep for the rest of the weekend.
I’m so up in my own head when I get to my bedroom door, I don’t even notice that it’s ajar as I push it open—but I sure as fuck realize something is wrong when I step inside.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, my eyes scanning all the new additions to my room. My heart is in my throat as my trembling hand reaches behind me blindly to close my door.
Photographs line my walls, all taped there and fluttering in the breeze coming from my open window.
Rushing over, I close it and drag the curtains closed. That motherfucker isn’t getting any more of a reaction out of me over this.
I stand there in the middle of all of my mistakes. The answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself, plainly laid out in front of me.
As I stare at each one, memories flicker through my mind.
Kissing Daemon. Dancing with him and Alex.
Disappearing into the bathroom with Seb. Thank fuck there’s none from what happened inside that room, but as my eyes keep moving to the next image, my stomach turns.
Theo with his tongue deep in my mouth, his hands firmly on my ass as we moved together.
Then I was with Nico and another girl, one I vaguely recognise from this morning, only in this image she was wrapped in a barely-there purple dress.
There are images of me with Toby, but he’s the only one I’m not completely molesting.
No wonder he was pissed, seeing as I was all over his friends.
“Oh God,” I sob when I get to some of the final images to find that it was him who carried me out of the bathroom, stripped me out of my dress and helped me into Theo’s shirt—after he helpfully dragged it off his body for me.
I’m not sure if the photographer was meant to capture it, but he’s at the perfect angle to be able to see everything in Toby’s eyes. His softness, how much he cares, his frustration, his anger. The only thing I don’t see that I should is his judgement and disappointment in me.
I’m a limp, drunken mess in his arms. He’s watched me with all his friends and he’s still the one trying to hold me up.
I sink to my knees in the middle of my bed and crumble.
I’m a mess, and my need to punish Seb for his cruel words and vicious touches is hurting the wrong person.
Toby—Calli and Emmie aside—is the only one who’s tried to help me since I started at Knight’s Ridge.
And look.
I risk a glance up and find his wrecked expression as he stares down at me flat out on the bed. Theo’s shirt might be long enough to cover me, but it’s ruched up and with the way I’ve fallen, Seb’s brand burning bright on my inner thigh.
“Oh God.”
I fall on my side onto my bed and let out a loud sob.
But my pity party only lasts for a couple of minutes, because I manage to find some strength from somewhere deep inside me, and with my cheeks soaked with my tears of regret, I begin stripping all the images from the walls and ripping them to shreds.