Page 105 of Twisting Beauty

Then there was a string of texts from the contact that I’d relabeled.

The Bastard: Coffee.

The Bastard: Now.

The Bastard: And get me a breakfast roll too.

The Bastard: Where’s my coffee?

The Bastard: Where are you?

The Bastard: Gray…

The Bastard: Answer me.

The Bastard: Or else.

Then seven missed calls from him.

Each new message made the pressure knot tighter. By the time the missed calls stacked up beneath them, the phone no longer felt like a device in my hand so much as a leash jerking tight.

My phone pinged again.

The Bastard: My room. Now.

How dare he? How fucking dare he act like nothing happened? Like I was still a pawn on his chessboard he could move around with three words and a send. Like last night had been nothing. Like I was nothing.

Fuck him. Fuck this place.

I tossed my phone aside and yanked open the wardrobe, pulling out gym leggings, a sports top, jacket, and runners. I tugged them on, driven by the need to get out of this room before the walls closed in completely.

I needed out. Needed air. Freedom, even if it was only a lie and only for an hour.

I yanked the door open and nearly walked straight into the bastard.

Lorcan was already there, standing right in front of my door, as if I’d caught him deciding whether to knock or to just barge in.

His eyes moved over the running gear, then came back up to my face. “You weren’t at college.”

I bit down a retort and pushed past him.

“I’m talking to you.” He fell into pace beside me, close enough that his arm grazed my shoulder and his violin scent-song played in my head.

I didn’t break stride. I pulled my hair back as I walked, using my fingers to scrape it into a ponytail.

“Seven texts, Liath.”

“Eight.” I pulled the elastic out from between my teeth to secure my hair.

“So you did read them.” He stepped in front of me, walking backward, trying to get into my line of sight.

I smoothed down my flyaways and stared past him as if he wasn’t there.

He halted right in my path, crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging under his charcoal sweater. “I called you.”

“Several times, I see.” I sidestepped him and kept walking, my steps faster now.

He kept up with me. God, would he ever leave me alone?