Page 98 of Anton

“Oh, no. Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “You could say that. Someone blew up my car.”

My eyes almost fall out of their sockets, and so do Blair’s.

“What? That’s crazy. Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, thank God. But my father wants me to stay put until we know what the hell is going on.”

Blair presses a hand over her mouth as a sick thought forms in my head. Because I have a strong suspicion who might have done this.

“Of course,” I tell him. “You should absolutely stay home. Don’t worry about tonight at all.”

“I’m really sorry, Thora. I’ll make it up to you.”

Yeah, maybe don’t do that. Because if you try, another car might explode.

“It’s okay.” I press my fingers to my forehead. “Really. Just be safe.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call you when things calm down.”

“Sure.”

The call ends, and I lower the phone from my ear while Blair is still staring, full of disbelief.

“Holy shit. Who the hell would blow up his car?”

My gaze drifts back to the mirror, and Anton’s face fills my mind. With it comes the warning he gave me about letting another man touch me. Maybe setting Brayden’s car on fire was his way of keeping that promise.

The fucked-up part of all this is that beneath the horror and the very reasonable concern that I have attracted a man who thinks arson is an acceptable form of communication, there’s a tiny bit of me that feels a sense of satisfaction. Because he found out about my date and did something about it.

My eyes slam shut.

God help me. I might be worse than he is.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THORA

I swear, I wasn’t going to.

But by the next afternoon, I’m done pretending I can ignore what he did, and if that man looks me in the eye and tries to pretend it wasn’t him, I might shoot him.

Maybe driving to Anton’s house is a terrible idea. It’s impulsive and exactly the kind of thing Blair would tell me not to do if I was stupid enough to mention it to her, but I have to look him in the face and ask him why. Especially after what he said about me to his brother.

When I pull up to the security gate, my hands are clammy and my nerves are shot. Two guards stand near the entrance, both of them turning as my car rolls to a stop. The second the taller one recognizes me, his shoulders drop.

“You again.”

I roll down the window, a nervous laugh slipping out as his harsh expression gives me a once-over. “Sorry. No cookies this time.”

His mouth twitches. “That is most unfortunate.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“Mm-hmm. What do you want?”

“I really need to speak to Anton. It’s an emergency.”