“Next time I’m going with you.”
Thirty-Eight
Blair
The laugh that escapes me is sharp.
“No, you’re not. I don’t care if you’re paying for the bills, you don’t get to just tell me when and where I get to go, or come with me like you’re my boyfriend.”
Devlin’s jaw clenches, a muscle jumping. “I am. You’re—”
“Mine? Is that what you were going to say?” I scoff, throwing my arms out. “Devlin, you never even asked me! You just started saying I was your girlfriend to your family without discussing it! You didn’t talk to me, didn’t ask me—you don’t just get to decide. That’s not how this works.”
He shoots to his feet, closing the distance between us in two strides, towering over me with a dangerous glint in his eye. I jut my chin, unafraid of him.
“You’re treading a risky path.” He grips my arms. “Don’t make me repeat how things work with us.”
It’s all becoming too much.
“There’s no us!” I struggle free of his firm grasp and turn on my heel.
Devlin follows as I jog up the steps. The hair on the back of my neck stands, my instincts go on alert, expecting him to grab me. I’m faster, keeping out of his reach.
“What do you mean there isn’t an us?” Devlin’s tone is so rough, it’s hard to make out his question.
The arrogant bastard has made a triumphant return. He’s lurked beneath this whole time, waiting to remind me of the one truth I’ve burned into my brain since Dad first left.
Men can’t be trusted. No matter what they say, or how sweetly they care for you, they’ll all do the same thing—hurt you. Survival has to come first.
I stop in the middle of his bedroom, blinking angrily. My feet carried me here automatically, as if I can’t shake how safe I’ve felt in this room. I kick off the short chunky heels I wore to his family’s house and take a breath to filter out some of the agitation that’s built in my chest since finding the contract hidden in Devlin’s closet.
“Did I miss the part where I sold you the girlfriend experience?” The accusation leaves me on a pained shout, scraping my throat raw.
A flash of surprise crosses Devlin’s face before he schools his expression into a controlled calm. It’s fake, manufactured to hide his true feelings. I can see the white-knuckled fists he shoves in his pockets, though.
“I haven’t set a task or paid for you to humiliate yourself in weeks. We’ve clearly been operating under different impressions of our relationship.”
He’s so careful about the way he words it, skipping over the way he’s been manipulating me, treating me like he cares when he still has the contract. The blistering fury overflows, spurred on by the long fucking night I’ve had sitting with Mom, her body drained like she’s going to be taken from me at any second.
“Goddamn it, Devlin! You can’t buy love, it’s not real! This has all been a fucking game to you!”
“The money doesn’t matter.” Devlin’s mouth pinches, working like he’s trapping his unfiltered responses, considering what to say before he opens those lying lips. “The arrangement doesn’t matter, or anything else.”
I jab my finger at him. “Doesn’t it? You’re so desperate for company, you paid me to play house with you.”
Devlin’s jaw clenches. Misery fills his eyes for a second before it disappears. Words keep coming, spilling from me without control. I throw everything in his face.
“You’re a monster,” I hiss. “You hated a girl so much you had to take your torment even further by diminishing me and manipulating my desperation to suit your sick game? You made me believe you actually—” I cut myself off with a harsh gasp before I continue in a low voice. “What a way to live up to your reputation as the devil. No wonder your parents are never around, because they probably can’t stand to be near their demon spawn.”
The only reaction Devlin gives me is a faint tightness around his eyes and the precise tilt of his head.
My throat burns with regret. The second the words are out, I wish I could take them back. It’s a low, cutting blow, even for me. After seeing the way his parents treat him, I shouldn’t have said it. That anger is born of the hurt Dad instilled in me, my rage is for him above anyone else, for leaving and destroying Mom’s happiness.
I open my mouth to apologize, taking a step toward him.
“I see.
” Those two words are clipped and austere, freezing me in place.