* * *
The clothes Deanhad Brooke lay out for me are a classic example of exactly what I was hoping to never have to wear again—a cute blue sundress that falls to just above my knees with fluttery sleeves and a wrap neckline, white straw wedges, along with pearl drop earrings and a pearl and silver bracelet cuff. I pick up the jewelry, looking at it and wondering what it would be like to live the kind of life where you can buy a girl pearls just for an afternoon trip to get lunch.
I follow his instructions to the letter, though, mostly because I can’t find a good enough reason to fight back, other than purely out of spite. And there’s the possibility, if we’re having lunch with his father, that I might find out something interesting about what’s going on. At the very least, I can’t think of anything bad that would come of it—other than the fact that I have to wear this stupid dress and endure a lunch at a fucking country club.
Dean is waiting for me when I finally come down, but he’s not the only one. Jaxon is sitting in the living room with him, and my stomach twists when I walk in, my legs suddenly feeling unsteady as I catch a glimpse of Jaxon’s face when he sees me in the sundress.
“That dress looks fucking stupid,” Jaxon says, his upper lip curling. “What, did your new lord and master tell you to wear that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Dean says, shooting him a warning look. “Not all of us like our women to look like biker trash.”
Biker trash.The words cut in a way that they never did before when kids at my old high school used to call me that. Something about the way it sounds on Dean’s lips is even worse, the disgusting way he says it, as if my usual look reminds him of something he might find on his shoe.
“Careful,” I snap, my cheeks suddenly burning. “You’ve been sticking your dick in that ‘biker trash.’”
Jaxon laughs, a sharp bark of a sound, but Dean just gets up out of his chair, graceful as a cat, and glides across the room towards me. His hand slides under my chin, tilting my face up towards him as he gives me an appraising look, as if confirming that I’m dressed and made-up to his satisfaction. “No,” he says softly but loud enough for Jaxon to hear. “I’ve been claiming my prize. No matter what anyone else has to say about it.”
My gut twists and I try to pull my chin out of his grasp, but he’s holding me too tightly.
“Cayde might have something to say about that,” Jaxon says with another laugh. “He’s pretty wound up after what happened yesterday morning.”
Dean ignores him, but I cut my gaze sideways, catching Jaxon’s dark eyes. “Don’t you give a shit about any of this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Jaxon shrugs. “I planned to just sit back and watch the three of you tear each other apart. Seems…entertaining.”
I refuse to let him see how much the dismissal hurts. I don’t bite my lip, and I refuse to let tears well up in my eyes because I don’t want him to have any inkling of how I feel. Of how, just for a few minutes out in the grass under the night sky, he made me think that I might not be totally alone here and then dashed all those hopes to pieces.
He told you, Athena, I remind myself. He told you from the very beginning not to rely on him. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you started to catch feelings. And why? Because he reminds you of home?
I don’t really have a good answer for that.
“Let’s go,” Dean says stiffly, reaching for my hand. “Time for our first date, Athena.”
I don’t look at Jaxon’s face as we go. I’m afraid to, really, afraid of what I’ll see there. Whether it’s hurt or careless disregard, it’ll hurt just the same.
Even though it shouldn’t.
I jerk my hand out of Dean’s as soon as we’re out of the house. “This isn’t a date,” I snap. “This is you dragging me somewhere I don’t have any desire to go.”
“Aren’t all dates just that, deep down?” Dean smirks as he leads me out to his waiting car, a black Maserati gleaming in the early afternoon sun. “If I had a nickel for every time a girl made me go do some stupid activity I didn’t have any interest in just so I could get laid later—actually, never mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a nickel in person. I’m not even sure I’ve ever handled cash.” He flashes me a grin. “Perks of being wealthy, Athena. No loose change.”
I just shake my head as I slide into the car as he holds the door open for me, and I don’t fail to notice the irony of it. The same man who holds me down while he fucks me, who ordered me to stick my tongue out for his cum the same day I woke up in his house not knowing where I was, who whipped me with his belt and called me a whore, is holding open a car door for me like a perfect gentleman while standing there smiling politely with his movie-star good looks.
It could really drive a girl crazy if she thought about it for too long.
The car smells like new leather, cool and dark on the inside, the seats buttery soft under my hands. I can practically taste the luxury. I’ve never been in a car like this, and I can’t help the small flutter of excitement in my stomach, even though I’d rather be on the back of Jaxon’s motorcycle.
The engine purrs when Dean starts it up, nothing like the grumbly roar of a bike or the sputtering of the old truck my mom used to drive before it perished in the fire that took our house.
Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever get that smell of tires burning out of my nose.
“So, where is this country club?” I ask, leaning back and looking over at Dean as he puts the car into gear and pulls smoothly out of the manor house driveway.
“On the shore,” Dean says coolly. “But we’re not going there quite yet.”
“Oh?” My heart thumps in my chest. “Where are we going, then?”
“On a little tour.”