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He glances around my room as if that can tell him.
“Song?”
Now he looks like he’s going to start breaking things at any moment.
“Okay, I’ll make it easy on you. What’s my favorite food?”
He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“See, Camile knows the answer to at least two of those questions.”
“Camile.” He snorts as if she’s a nobody and of no consequence, and it pushes my rage higher.
“All of you see me as a thing. I think you have feelings for me, and I do for you, but it’s not healthy or normal, and it’s most certainly not what you base a marriage on.”
“I see. This is your answer to me when I come to save your life and your reputation? This disgusting, sneering refusal?”
He snakes his hand into my hair and pulls at my nape, so my head snaps up, forcing me to look at him. His lips crash down on mine, harsh and demanding. Hating myself for it, I whimper into that kiss.
When he breaks it off, we’re both panting.
“You will fucking marry me, Mackenzie. I tried the nice way, and if I have to, I will do it the hard way. I suggest you get your head around this fact.”
Then he lets go of me and stalks to the door. He opens it and then pauses, turning back to me.
“This topic of conversation is paused for now,” he says, “but it’s not over. Oh, and don’t even think of telling the others unless you want to risk getting them killed. My father doesn’t take kindly to people ruining his plans.”
He slams the door behind him.
I pause long enough to scoop my phone back off the floor and check the screen isn’t cracked, then I walk to my bed on shaking legs and collapse onto it. I stare at the screen. I’m dying to call Tino, or Dom, but the warning about starting a war rings in my head. I don’t want to do any such thing. I know what they’re capable of, and I’m scared they’ll end up killing one another.
Still, I need to speak with someone. My head will explode if I don’t. I can’t talk to my mother, obviously, which leaves one person. Camille.
I know she’s going to judge me, because she thinks what I’ve got going on with these guys is crazy. I really need to tell someone about this, though. It’s too much for me to deal with alone.
I’m caught between two awful choices. Doing as I’m told, and not speaking about this with Dom or Tino, which will mean they’ll never trust me again, or telling them and possibly getting somebody killed?
How did I not see this coming? How could I have seen this exact turn of events, though? Honestly, if you had told me one of them would have lost their head in this way, I would have predicted it would be Dom. I’m not sure why, but he’s always seemed the most intense.
I thought staying here at college would be the safest bet, but it’s slowly become the most dangerous. Once more, I entertain the idea of running. Surely to God there has to be something better than this. Now, I feel like a pinball ricocheting around between various men who are all just playing games with me. Sooner or later, I’ll fall down that hole in the game, never to be seen again.
I fire off a text and quickly change. I grab my purse and head to the door. My phone buzzes as I’m halfway down the stairs, and when I look at it, I see the answer from my friend. I smile in relief. Crossing the courtyard, I head toward the cafeteria where I’m going to meet her. At this time of the evening, it will most likely be empty. People are either in their rooms or heading out to the bar. Only a few students tend to sit in the cafeteria in the evening.
I walk into the cafeteria and sigh in relief when I see only three tables are occupied. A sports game is playing on the TV that sits in the back of the room, and the scent of food fills the air. Normally, the smell of fries, onion rings, and burgers would make my stomach rumble, but today it only nauseates me.
I walk toward a table at the far end of the room, one that is hidden away in the shadows. Sitting down in my dark little corner, I pick up a napkin, and without thinking, start tearing it into tiny shreds. I’m working on napkin art number two when someone clears their throat to the right of me.
I turn to see a tall man with dark hair and piercing eyes staring down at me.
“I’m not sure we’ve been formally introduced,” he says.
Holy fuckballs. My life just seems to go from bad to worse.
I pick up an accent. It’s French, I think. I’m sure I have a vague memory of someone telling me the twins are part of the Marseille mafia. So, is this fucker Louis or Mattheo?
At what point did one of the Vipers decide it was the perfect time to come and talk to me? This cannot be my life right now.
I turn and give him a sickly-sweet smile. “I don’t talk to strangers. My momma told me not to.”
