Page 670 of Lessons in Cruelty

“Fuck you!” I yell, shoving off the bed and rushing over to my tote bag. Bastian’s phone is so slick, I fumble it as I take it out.

I don’t bother with a DM.

His phone rings, and rings, and rings before going to voicemail. I briefly consider leaving one, but something tells me that’s not a good idea. In fact, I just realized that calling Bastian was a bad fucking idea.

What if they take my phone and see I tried to call him?

I’m studying, that’s all. He said I could call him if I had questions. Just a student calling her professor. On a Sunday. Right after being interrogated.

The damage is already done. The call is logged on a server in some secure government facility.

I call again.

“Morning, sweet girl.”

How fucking dare he sound so fucking sexy when I’m this fucking mad at him?

“Make it stop,” I whisper-shout into the phone.

“Make what stop?”

“You know what. I get it, okay?” I raise my voice to a nasal whine. “You’re fucking God. You can do anything with the snap of a fucking finger.” My voice drops to a growl. “Now undo it.”

“God, you say?” His dark chuckle makes my nipples harden. “That would make you, what…my obedient supplicant?”

“I’ll be whatever the fuck you want me to be,” I grate out. “Just get him out of there.”

“Whom out of where, sweet girl?”

This motherfuck⁠—

“What do you want?” I’m trying to hold back the tears, but I’m so tired, so frustrated, so fucking angry, they keep slipping past my defenses. “Please, Bastian. He doesn’t deserve this. I fucked up, okay? If you want to punish someone, punish me.”

The phone digs into my knuckles at Bastian’s throaty laugh. “From the sounds of it, I couldn’t be punishing you any harder.”

He’s right, of course.

Again.

Fucking always.

“Is this all just a game to you?” I bluster out, half sobbing, half laughing like a fucking lunatic.

“I like it when my pets fight,” he says. “But only when I watch.” He sounds dreamy now.

He’s probably done a ton of coke already this weekend and finished off a bottle of his most expensive bourbon. I’d say it’s because framing someone for a crime is thirsty work, but this is probably just a regular weekend for Bastian fucking Rooke.

“Just stop with the drama and the mind games, okay? What. Do. You. Want?”

“You.”

I roll my lips between my teeth. “I’m with Kai now,” I murmur.

“I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is, I’m with him, so I can’t be with you.” It’s like talking to a fucking brick wall.

“No, sweet girl, I don’t think you understand.”