I remind myself that yet again. It’s the kind of thing he’d do out of spite, but I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if he fucked my mom, if he wants to drive. It doesn’t matter where he’s taking me. It doesn’t matter if he kills me. Nothing matters.
“Cool,” I say, turning my indifferent gaze on Royal. “Ready when you are.”
“See you soon, Mrs. Apple,” Royal says, detaching himself from her clutches.
“It’s Ms., silly,” Mom says, batting his arm this time. “I’m not married.”
“Right,” Royal says. “See you, Ms. Apple.”
I’m already out the door. He hurries to catch up. He parked right behind my truck in the driveway, blocking me in. He probably thought I’d fight it, that I would insist on driving, and he could win again by blocking my truck and not letting me leave, making me get in his car instead. I don’t give him the satisfaction. I climb in the front seat of the Range Rover, almost spiteful in my apathy.
I haven’t been in his car since the day he kidnapped me and dragged me to the swamp, and I swear I can still smell it here, the rich, oily scent of rotting plants and murky water. I close my eyes and swallow the thick feeling in my throat.
We drive for a minute in silence. “What are you so pissed about?” Royal asks at last.
“Nothing,” I say. “I’m not pissed about anything.”
“Is it because I talked to your mom?” he guesses.
“Nope.”
“Come on, Harper,” he says. “I know you. I know you’re pissed. Just tell me why.”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just does.”
“Fine,” I say. “First off, you don’t know me. Youknewme. You knew the girl who wouldn’t want you to see the hovel she lives in while you prance around your fancy mansion with your butlers and maids and shit. You knew the girl who would care that you talked to her mom behind her back, that you probably fucked her because she’s your type, right? And she’ll fuck anyone who can keep it up long enough for her to climb on. You knew the girl who might not want to get in a car with a guy who kidnapped her and took her to the middle of nowhere to have her gang-banged and left for dead.”
“What the fuck, Harper,” he says quietly. “I didn’t fuck your mom.” He looks at me, his gaze so wounded I almost believe he’s capable of hurt. But I know better than to buy into that game.
I take a deep breath and go on, though, because I’m not done. “You’d think the girl you attacked wouldn’t get in a car and go anywhere without knowing what she was getting into after that little incident. But that’s because you think I’m still that girl, that I’m the same Harper Apple you knew. But I’m not. I’m no one. And no one doesn’t care if you saw her house and know you were right all along, that she’s trash. She hopes you fucked her mom and got all her diseases, too. And it’s not that she’s stupid for getting in your car, it’s that she simply doesn’t care.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I don’t care if you take me right back to the swamp. I don’t care if you have a whole fucking parade come by and fuck me before you kill me this time. I don’t care what you do to me, Royal, becauseI’m already dead.”
Royal pulls up in front of the Slaughterpen and parks. He turns to me, and after a second, he reaches over, swiping his thumb across my cheek. I didn’t even know I was crying until he wipes the tears away. “I think you’re wrong,” he says. “I think you care.”
“I don’t.”
He leans in, sliding his hand over my cheek and under my ear, cradling my head and pulling me forward. Before I realize what’s happening, he presses his lips to mine.
I shove him so hard I break out of his grip and fly back against the door, my head slamming against the window. My breaths comes quick as I stare at him, my eyes wide with shock.
“See?” he says with a little grin. “You do care.”
He opens his door and climbs out, closing his door before I can say a word. I sit there, my heart ricocheting crazily around my ribcage. What the fuck just happened?
Royal opens my door and holds out a hand, that little smirk still on his lips, and all I want to do is bash every one of his teeth out of his stupid head with my brass knuckles.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I say, leaning away from him.
“I didn’t fuck your mother,” he says. “And I give less than zero fucks about your house. Your house isn’t you. And you’re not trash.”