Stealing from our family for months.
That’s why we’re here, right? Because my mother’s been getting paid by Senator Devereux, and she’s developed a drug addiction, and it’s on me. It’s my fault that the payments have stopped and her way of life is disrupted.
Her flightiness makes sense now. I can fill in a million motives for her absence, for the way she hasn’t returned my calls. The loneliness I felt, the abandonment . Maybe she’s always been addicted to something, and the opioids just provided another level of escape for her. But at the end of the day, she stopped talking to me because of the drugs.
No other reason is necessary.
I haven’t been stealing from the senator. That’s a nice little twist on an ugly truth: that he’s been giving her the cash to get high. And who knows what she moved onto after my prescription ran out. Who knows what sort of people she’s been with, and in what sort of situations… drug dealers aren’t exactly known to be safe people.
I hate that for her. I really do.
And the guilt follows me a second later, because now I’m left to wonder if I should’ve seen the signs. Could I have prevented this?
How, though? With no idea that she went behind my back to get my medical bills paid for, and then took it a step further to blackmail the Devereuxes. I thought insurance took care of my hospital expenses and that she had a job she liked.
And Grey? Does he believe this? Because right now, the senator is painting a picture for his son, and I’m the villain. I’m the leech, the gold digger. The one who wanted payback on their family and continually lashed out.
His father would like that, wouldn’t he? Just to have everything neat in a bow.
Maybe I should just cut and run now.
I risk a glance at Greyson, and his arm tightens on my shoulders, as if he senses where my thoughts are going. I have a desperate need to flee, but there’s a man guarding the door. My biceps ache from where he grabbed me earlier—and he still has my phone.
“Elaborate,” Greyson says stiffly, unmoving.
I want to scream at him that it’s not true. That this final manipulation is an effort of his father to break us apart once and for all.
Why? I haven’t done anything to them.
Grey’s father steps closer to him. “It was Violet’s idea to file a lawsuit. She wanted to ruin us.”
“I wanted my medical bills covered,” I say quietly. “Because my career was over.”
His upper lip curls. “And then you leaked your story to the press. But threatening a countersuit wasn’t enough, was it? I’ll admit, it was my mistake not to have your mother sign the nondisclosure agreement. And once I realized, it was too late.”
“I was just trying to get what I was due,” my mother spits. She jabs her finger at the senator. “Your boy destroyed us.”
I flinch. How did I not see this? Was I that blind to her fury? Right now, she’s trembling and red and the angriest I’ve ever seen her. Maybe she hid this from me while I was recovering, and living with her as I relearned how to walk correctly, when I was navigating around in a boot. Between now and then, though, her façade broke.
“How did it destroy you?” Grey asks. His tone is stoic. Uncaring. Not even curious. More like he’s trying to poke holes in their stories, one question at a time. More will come, I’m sure.
Mom stiffens. “You took—”
“Violet’s career,” he interrupts. “Which we’re rectifying. But you… you had a daughter who needed your support, and instead you extorted us for money?”
She throws her head back and cackles. I shiver. I’ve never seen her like this. Angry, sure, but also unhinged.
Senator Devereux raises his eyebrow at his son. “This is what you’re inheriting,” he says. “By cutting ties with me, I’m wiping my hands clean of this problem. You’ll deal with the fallout of her threats, if they come to pass.”
I snort.
All our focus comes back to me.
“Sorry, Senator, but she’s your problem. Unless you’d like to explain to your voters how you funded a drug addict for the last six months?” I shake my head. “I’m sure any article that comes out about you would be national news. Right, Mom?”
My mother’s eyes light up. She knows a cash cow when she sees one—and right now, the senator is in her grip. There’s nothing Senator Devereux can say to that either. He knows I’m right, but he was probably hoping we’d miss it. That would’ve been a solid deal, passing off two problems—my mother and me—onto his unruly son.
I take Grey’s free hand and tug at it. “I think we’re done here, don’t you?”
“I do,” he murmurs.
We leave them in silence, and I pause in front of the bodyguard. I glance at Greyson. “He has my phone.”
Grey’s expression darkens.
The guy lifts his hand to his breast pocket, retrieving my phone and holding it out to me. As soon as it’s in my grip, I take a step back.
Grey has other ideas. He lunges at him and snaps his fist forward. His knuckles smash into the guy’s face, skating across his cheekbone and nose. The guard stumbles backward, covering his face, but Greyson follows him. He fists the front of his shirt and shoves him into the wall.
“Don’t you ever fucking lay a hand on her,” he says in the bodyguard’s face.
He holds out his hand to me again, and I take it. He squeezes twice, and we walk out the door. As soon as we’re in the hall, I let out a breath. But he doesn’t slow. He tows me down the stairs and around the corner, out of sight.
Good. I don’t want to even think about seeing them again.
“Holy fucking shit,” Grey breathes. He pulls me into an alcove and spins me against the wall.
My back touches the concrete, and I tip my head back.
My heart is going a million miles a minute.
“That was crazy.” I run my hands up his arms. “I mean… yeah, no. Crazy is all I’ve got.”
“I was going to go out of my mind when he put his hands on you,” Grey admits. He pushes my sweater off my shoulders, his fingertips grazing my upper arms. Like he’s searching for bruises or signs that he hurt me. “But I swear to you, Violet, no one is going to hurt you again.”
My chest tightens, and I hold his wrists. “But…”
“Don’t say I can’t protect you. Because I will. God, I’m so fucking furious at my father. He locked you in his suite while he came up to schmooze, and then so casually threatened you. Absolutely fucking not.”
Yeah. And it felt like an eternity, too, with my antsy mother. It felt like I was waiting on the edge of a cliff, unsure if someone was going to push me off.
“Thank you,” I say. “For coming to rescue me. But… what if I want you to hurt me?” My voice drops. “What if I want you to make me scream…”
His gaze falls to my chest, which is suddenly heaving. He plays with my bra strap, then slowly pushes it down. I lean more of my weight on the wall and tug him forward by his waistband. He steps between my legs and leans down. His lips touch my collarbone, and I close my eyes. He works his way up my shoulder, the crook of my neck. He nips my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to give him better access.
His teeth skim my throat. His tongue samples me.
I’m breathless when I ask, “Kiss me, would you?”
He chuckles. “I will. But I’m too busy imagining all of the demons that live under your skin, and how I’m going to make every single one of their dreams come true. You’re just as twisted as I am. Excuse me for taking a minute to compose myself… or else I’ll rip your clothes off right here and show you how much I appreciate that sentiment.”
I shudder. I meant what I said, though. The quiet, terrible things I can admit to him and only him. I like when he brings out his knife. I like the little sparks of pain that prelude the pleasure and intertwine with it. I like knowing that he can—and will—take me to that edge.
I want it—and I know he wants that, too.
“You should.” I tug at his pants again, then slide my hand into his waistband. I wrap my fingers around his cock. He’s hard and waiting for me, and he doesn’t object when I push his pants off his hips. His erection appears, and my mouth waters.
Before I can go down on my knees, he shoves my leggings down to my ankles and spreads my legs. He lifts me by my thighs, slamming my back harder against the wall. I can’t wrap my legs around him like this, with my ankles essentially bound. I’m at his mercy, and his grip on my thighs makes me squirm. He takes a breath, looking between us. There’s no foreplay, no waiting. He runs the tip of his cock through my wetness, as if testing, then thrusts hard into me.
I arch my back, my lips parting. He fills me completely, and I realize how much I needed this. He pauses for a moment, taking it in, until I squirm again. He pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. He hits a deep spot inside me, and stars burst in front of my eyelids.
Soon, he’s increased his speed. I tighten my hold on his shoulders and let him go at a punishing pace. The only noise between us is the slap of skin and our harsh breaths. The hallway just to my left is silent, the stadium beyond us dark. I could believe that it’s just us in the whole damn building.
“Touch yourself,” he orders, his eyes boring into mine.
I obey without question, slipping my hand between us and rubbing quick circles on my clit. My cunt clenches around him at the sudden wave of new sensation. It isn’t enough, though. I crave the connection—all of it. He wants to unchain my demons? I want to climb inside his skin and stay there forever.
What do I do when even this close isn’t enough?
“Kiss me,” I beg.
He finally obliges, leaning down and capturing my mouth. His tongue sweeps along my teeth, tasting every inch of me. I crave the invasion. I want him to fill me up completely, because I’m not sure I am even a person anymore. I don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be, and part of me needs him to guide me there.
We keep up the furious pace until an orgasm crashes through me. I tense again, whimpering his name against his mouth, and it knocks him over the edge, too. He comes with his lips on mine.
He pulls out of me and lowers my feet to the floor, but immediately his hand is between my legs. He thrusts two fingers inside me, pressing his body to mine. Keeping me pinned to the wall. “I can’t fucking wait for the day you have a baby in your belly,” he says in my ear. “And even though you’re on birth control, and you have a dance career ahead of you, I want you to picture our future every time I come inside you. Every time I push my cum back into your pussy.”
Ugh. What a fucking turn-on.
“Come on,” he says suddenly, pulling away from me.
I let out a groan, the loss of him sudden, and yank my pants back into place. He chuckles and offers his hand again.
“I scored a hat trick,” he informs me. “And we have a party to attend.”
