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That’s an interesting bit of knowledge and I decide to tuck it away for later until I can decide what to do with it.
“Why did you let me pledge?” I ask. “I’m sure the alumni weren’t too happy about that.”
“Because rules are rules. Our bylaws say what they say and it isn’t my place to change them,” he slurs. “That video never should have been released, by the way. If it were up to me, that shit never would have happened.”
“You definitely sound like a paragon of discretion.”
Brady’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “You’re the one who spent weeks sniffing around Havoc House, getting wasted at our parties and making it clear that you were open for business.”
It’s a slight stab in the dark, but my sister’s test results aren’t a lie. If he wasn’t obviously drunk, then I might hold my tongue, but it’s hard to pretend that any of this shit is okay. “Oli…I mean, I was blitzed out of my mind.”
“Nobody forced anything down your throat. You enjoyed it, if I remember correctly.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that Brady is basically admitting that he was one of the masked guys in that sex tape. I pretty much already knew that, but it’s a little surreal to hear him admit it without even an ounce of apparent shame.
I guess I should have known better. If you haven’t done some weird sex thing where consent is basically optional, then are you really rich in America?
“I wasn’t in my right mind,” I point out, fighting to keep the anger out of my voice. “You really think things would have gone down like if I’d been sober.”
He shrugs that off, like it doesn’t matter. “Welcome to the party. You knew what you were signing up for when you came here. Most girls don’t walk away from Havoc House unhappy. If you’d played it right, this could have been your year.”
“Played it right,” I repeat. “You mean by not getting violently attacked in the woods?”
Brady closes his eyes as his head lolls back on the couch. For a split second it seems like he might have fallen asleep, but then his eyes blink open again and he blearily stares at me. “It’s not Havoc House’s fault that some random asshole chose the night of our Bacchanal to do a bad thing. Sorry you got your face smashed in, or whatever, but it didn’t have anything to do with us.”
If he wasn’t such a monster, that might almost sound like sympathy.
I sit back, feeling frustrated. If I ply Brady with any more alcohol, then he might just pass out completely. “You really don’t have any idea who did it?”
“Wish I did,” Brady mumbles. “I’d like to have a word with whoever thought it was a good idea to go after a face like that. You might be a total bitch, but at least you’re hot as fuck.”
“Jesus.”
He suddenly lurches forward and grabs onto my arm, yanking me toward him. “You know, I always wanted another go after the Initiation. You weren’t supposed to know which of us was which, but you had to have figured it out. Every girl walks away wanting more from me.”
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me go. Real fear streaks through me. “I think you’re drunk.”
“Not too drunk to get it up.” His free hand goes to the waist of his pants as he works at the zipper. “I think I want you on your knees. Bet you give great head. Pledges have to do whatever they’re told, right?”
Drunk or not, Brady is stronger than I gave him credit for. His grip on my arm tightens, and he yanks me out of the chair hard enough that my knees hit the floor with a bang. “Let me go, Brady.”
“In a few minutes. We can make it quick.”
“No!”
I scream at the top of my lungs and he just laughs.
“It’s soundproof down here, remember?” His expression darkens when I slap his searching hand away. “Don’t be like that. I’m just asking for the same thing you’ve done a hundred times before. What’s the harm?”
I should have known that an inebriated Brady would be just as dangerous as a sober one, maybe even more. The little bit of control that he usually has over himself is long gone.
Brady might have strength, but I have speed. I lash out with my free hand and catch him full across the face with my fist. His head rocks back with a sickening thud, but he shakes it off with an angry growl.
Shit. The alcohol has probably decreased his pain tolerance.
“I guess you like it rough, now. That’s okay, I’ll give it to you anyway you want it.”
He uses his body weight to force me back against the chair as his hands tear at my jacket and he dodges my attempts to hit him again.
