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My pulse spiked at the thought of exposing myself as her stalker, and all I could do was dip my chin.
I watched as she turned on her heel, strode across the room, and left me standing by the windows. For a long while, I stared at the empty space she’d filled, wondering why I hadn’t demanded more. Or worse, why I had offered the deal in the first place.
10
SUTTON
3 YEARS EARLIER
City lights blurred past as our driver weaved through traffic toward The Riot, my head spinning while Amelia talked my ear off.
After my classes ended for the semester, Mother had convinced me to stay at the estate for a couple of weeks. And, of course, as soon as I had unpacked, Amelia invited me to an exclusive club with the very people we’d gone to school with.
Truthfully, I didn’t feel like going, not after Noah’s death. Even after eighteen months, socializing still felt forced. Just the thought of being surrounded by people I didn’t like or want to be around had my temples throbbing.
Our driver switched lanes, and I cracked the window.
Warm air hit my cheeks, howling against the glass with the scent of salt and pine. Summer had made its appearance, the land stretching out in a sea of thick, endless evergreens on both sides of the highway.
My stomach curled, and I was starting to think the drinks we had earlier were a mistake. Amelia had insisted we pre-game before meeting with her friends, Colton and Jeremiah. I already knew they’d have the personality of a wet paper towel just by their names.
I tugged at my black dress as it rode up my thighs and watched the windows.
“What was Manic saying to you when we left your estate?” Amelia asked while opening her compact mirror to check her red lipstick in the exact same shade as her dress.
I gritted my teeth at the question, recalling those minutes outside my home. I’d snuck out the sitting room door to prevent running into my father and his guests when I’d caught a glimpse of pale Mortaine hair shining beneath the foyer chandeliers.
Ronan and Grave had stood inside, there for a meeting about the casinos. Manic had been smoking on the porch when I’d snuck out and turned the corner.
“Nothing worth talking about,” I said to Amelia, even though his voice continued to rumble in my ear.
“Where are you going dressed like a call-girl?” he’d asked.
I couldn’t decipher whether the question was a compliment or an insult. I’d scrunched my face, hating how he looked like one of the statues near the front of our long driveway—stoic and devoid of emotion in that tailored suit of his. Well, except for his permanent hungry expression, like he’d seen something delicious to devour.
Too aware of the estates’ camera pointed down the driveway and my admirer likely watching, I had told him to fuck off and stormed to our waiting car, slamming the door shut behind me.
“I invited Manic and Grave while I was waiting on you,” Amelia added, then closed her mirror.
“You did what?” My head snapped to her, but she only shrugged.
“You know he owns the place… right?”
I didn’t actually, but I wasn’t surprised considering he seemed like the type to own a high-end club. “Are they coming?”
Amelia half-frowned, shrugging again. “I don’t know. They mentioned something about popping in after their meeting with your father. Could be a few hours. Or they might not come at all.”
My shoulders sagged, my tension momentarily easing.
Regardless of ownership, being alone with Manic was the last thing I needed. I would never hear the end of it from my admirer. But being questioned by him wasn’t the only thing that had the alarm bells ringing in my head. Every man I’d tried dating had coincidentally disappeared from my sights.
Well, not entirely. Some still attended the university, they just avoided me now, like something I did had caused them to scurry in the opposite direction.
And those dates? Well, they’ve all stood me up at dinner only for me to be left with a single peony by the end of it. I was up to five now, and I was beginning to believe my admirer had a hand in it. It was annoying. Even though Manic grated on my nerves, I didn’t exactly want him to disappear.
“Don’t look so drab! Who knows, it could be fun! Colton and Jeremiah are almost there, so we’ll have a distraction.” Amelia giggled, her eyes already glossed over as she leaned against the seat. Then her brows pinched, her smile fading. “I had psychology with both of them before I was forced to switch majors. They’re really smart.”
Amelia had originally applied for a psychology degree until her father made her switch to law last year. She’d fought him on it, so they settled on a psychology minor instead. Apparently being a lawyer was a part of the Belmonte family business, and she wouldn’t be an exception.
