“I had a feeling they would fit you pretty well. Keep them as long as you need.”
Oh, fuck me. “I didn’t know they were yours.” What kind of game is this? Was there nowhere else Lucas could find clothes for me? Jesus Christ, don’t they get deliveries around here? He could have had some clothes overnighted, brand new. It wouldn’t even cost that much.
But no, I guess he finds it funny, having me wear the clothes of the girl who’s the reason all of this started in the first place. Just when I think I know how deeply twisted he is, he goes and shows me how much worse he can be.
Meanwhile, Little Miss Perfect is staring at me, smiling. I guess I’m supposed to say something. “Thanks for lending them to me. They do fit well.”
“That’s great.” She chews on her lip before turning to look up at her husband. He hasn’t breathed a word yet, and I don’t think he’s going to. Not that I’m complaining. I don’t want to hear a single syllable come from his murderous mouth.
I guess he can’t be bothered to say anything when he’s so busy giving me a death glare. I know the last thing I need to do is antagonize him, but I’ve never exactly been good at ignoring this kind of thing. No matter how much I know I should. I don’t want to come off as being weak, either. Not in front of him. Not in front of any of these assholes.
“Anyway, we better get going.” Aspen offers a smile that I can’t believe she actually means.
And I match her smile, just as fake as she is. “Thanks again. That’s really generous of you, making sure I have what I need.” I make it a point to stare at Quinton for a beat.
When he blinks first, a surge of satisfaction makes my smile widen. It’s actually genuine now. “I better go. Don’t want to be late for class.”
I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing as I hurry away. He didn’t expect me to put on a friendly act. That much is obvious.
Then again, what would he have preferred? The sight of me weeping and begging for forgiveness? Probably. He’s got a long time to wait if he wants that.
I realize this newfound confidence is all thanks to Marcel as I cut my way through the hall. There are still whispers, stares, and all that. But I feel less alone. Like there’s a shell around me now.
If Quinton Rossi thinks I’m going to break that easily, he didn’t learn anything about me while I was locked up. I will always find a way to get through, no matter what.
18
LUCAS
I can’t remember ever waiting with so much anticipation. Not even when I was in the ring, waiting for the bell to ring so I could knock my next opponent out. I was pretty fucking insufferable about it, too.
But this? This tops anything. Why isn’t she back yet? I know her entire schedule inside and out—considering I put it together, it only makes sense. She should have been here ten minutes ago, but she’s not. I deliberately left my office and went to the apartment to wait for her, and she was not here.
It’s incredible, really, how many scenarios can run through a person’s head in the span of no time at all. Did she run away? No, somebody would have come to get me by now.
Did Quinton decide to finish the job? I would hope not since I don’t feel like dealing with any of those ramifications. Though I doubt there would be any. If what she’s told me is true, nobody wouldn’t be asking after her. It’d be as if she simply vanished from the face of the earth. Essentially, that’s what she’s already done.
As far as I know, there hasn’t been a mention of her in the outside world, almost like she never existed.
When the door to the apartment opens, I have to restrain myself from pouncing on her like a father waiting for his daughter to return home from a night out.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I bark.
She cringes away, eyes wide. “What? I came straight here after class.”
“That’s a fucking lie, and we both know it. You should have already been here if you’d come straight from class.”
“What, have you timed it?” She puts her hands on her hips, snickering and even going so far as to look me up and down. “I mean, I already knew you were uptight, but this is way worse than I anticipated.”
“Keep your fucking useless opinion to yourself. I asked you a straightforward question. Why did it take you ten minutes longer than it should have to get back here?”
“What are you expecting? For me to confess I was scheming?” She smirks, and I want to wipe the floor with her face. “Maybe I built a bomb and hid it somewhere.”