Page 23 of The Brat: Prequel

But he hasn’t been alone once.

And this bubbling, virulent feeling inside me has me unsure of whether I want to puke or to stab every woman he’s danced with and then stab him.

“Ah.” Shay glances over his shoulder. “I should have known. What is it with you and that guy, Vicky?”

I close my eyes to hide from the woman mauling him on the dance floor. At least, she’s trying to maul him. He keeps ducking his head out of the way while they’re foxtrotting—he’s surprisingly good at it. I almost wish I’d been there to see him learn.

First elocution lessons, then dancing? What else has he had to learn to fit in with NYC’s idea of high society?

“Are you going to tell me what happened tonight? He’s obviously why you wanted to come here. That means there’s something you wanted to share⁠—”

“I text him all the time, Shay. I don’t need to see him to speak with him.”

As true as that is, I can’t write him about the way men treat me. I wish I could. But it’s like this wall comes down and the words won’t flow so I end up saying nothing and bottling it all up inside.

“You text him?!”

“Of course.” I pull back to frown at him. “You thought we didn’t talk?”

“He’s a grown man, Vicky. You’re a kid!”

“I’m almost eighteen.”

“Almost! Do you hear yourself? Does he ask you to do… things?”

“Fuck off, Shay. Maxim isn’t like that. He mostly answers questions, not asks them. He never asks for pictures and he doesn’t send them to me either.”

“Bullshit. You want more. You project it without meaning to!”

“Do you want me to slap you?”

His eyes bulge. “What?!”

“I’ll slap you if you don’t back off. I’ve had a terrible goddamn night, Shay. I don’t want to talk about it before you ask. I don’t need you to make it worse by accusing the⁠—”

When I break off, my bottom lip quivering, he sighs. “What is he?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘accusing the.’ What the?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I’m more likely to cry,” he snaps. “This whole thing freaks me the fuck out, Vicky.”

I shove his arm. “He makes me feel safe, okay?”

“Safe? Why would you feel in danger? The uncles will keep you safe. Dad will keep you safe. You’re never in danger.”

I can’t tell him about Ronan’s fingers on me. The way he thought he had a right to touch me. How he didn’t care when I said no. That I let him do stuff to make him back off.

“You can’t understand and I’m glad about that. But I’m not you. They’re not my blood.”

His mouth works. “You feel that way?”

“Yes.” I tip up my chin. “But Max? He’ll hurt the people who hurt me.”

Shay processes that, then shakes his head. I see the sorrow in his eyes before he takes in yet another woman dancing with Maxim and, softly, rasps, “And what if he’s the one who hurts you, Vick?”