“Zayne was there when it happened.” His voice shakes as he wrings his hands nervously.
“What?” Is all that escapes from my mouth as I grip the arm of the chair.
Vix leans against the dresser, clearly already in the know.
“It’s why he doesn’t like to talk about it. He feels guilty that he didn’t do anything to prevent it from happening.” Knox explains
“Why, what could he have done?” I ask in disbelief. “He didn’t know.” A flash of the other night when we’d talked about it comes to mind. How distant he was, clearly trapped in the nightmare of that night, and I put him there.
“I asked him about it the other night—ugh, I’m such a jerk,” I stress, shaking my head.
Knox walks over kneeling next to me.
“No, Myssa, you’re not. You wouldn’t have known.” Knox rests his hand to my arm to comfort me.
“I told you, because you needed to know. But you have to promise me you won’t tell him.” He stands up, and I look at him questioningly.
He wipes his hand down his face. “Vault, Myssa,” he says.
I stare at him. Vault is something we came up with when we didn’t want anyone else knowing. Basically, secrets that if spilled would end friendships. But wouldn’t it be easier for Zayne toknow that I don’t judge him for this, for not helping? I, of all people, know what it’s like to deal with Jasper first-hand. I think I get it, though. It’s not like he’s the only one keeping a secret. Reluctantly, I agree.
“Vault.” I hold out my pinky, and he grabs it before we shake.
“Now, you guys get ready. The show is in a few hours, and I know it takes Vix at least three hours to get ready.” He smiles.
“Asshole,” she says, smacking him on his bicep as he walks past her.
He flinches and laughs on his way to the door.
“I mean, he’s not—” I get cut off and stifle my smile when she whips her finger in my direction.
“Not another fucking word,” she says.
A few hours later, she walks me to the mirror.
“There,” Vix says, looking proudly from behind me as she moves her hands from my eyes to show me her makeover. My hair has been whipped into a teased ponytail, my make-up done in a Vix’s signature smokey-eye style, topped off with a deep wine-colored lipstick. The look is completed with leather pants, a black tank top, my platform boots, and a black hooded, open cardigan.
“Let’s see if this gets his attention. Your ass looks hot in these pants,” she says, smacking my backside.
I turn around, and if I’m honest, she’s not wrong. I take a step to my dresser and grab my bracelets and rings.
“We are just friends,” I say half-heartedly.
“Yeah, ok,” she scoffs.
“The number of times I’ve watched you two flirt and steal glances at each other makes me want to…” She proceeds to make a pretend gagging noise.
I push her playfully. Vix has always been my wing woman.
“Shut the fuck up, Vix.” I chuckle.
“Hey, watch it, you’re gonna make me mess up my own make-up,” she says as she applies her lipstick.
With her hair in an oversized loose braid, her bright-green-and-black eyeshadow, and green lipstick with black liner, Vix will forever be a force to be wreckin’ with.
She’s wearing a black mini skirt that barely covers her ass, fishnet stockings, a black bra halter top with her tall platform shoes. I know what she is doing right now, and it’s going to drive Knox crazy.
It is the look he “forbids” her to wear while working. Not because there’s a dress code, because there isn’t. Does he try to pretend this is one, yes…yes, he does. The truth is it’s because he can’t concentrate and gets all alpha male on her.
