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I shove him off as quickly as possible, jumping up from the bench and immediately stumbling again on that stupid ankle.
“Don’t!” I say, holding out my hand to stop him as he tries to stand up, too. “I have to get back. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. And definitely don’t fucking kiss me anymore.”
Oliver doesn’t reply. He just stands there, brows furrowed, and hands stuffed in his pockets.
I hobble back in the direction of the car, stomping on my one good foot and fuming over that encounter.
I’m pissed that he kissed me! My marriage to Callum may not be exactly real, but I’m not ready to be unfaithful. Especially not with Oliver, who’s really starting to creep me out.
When I get to the lot, I see Nessa standing on the sidewalk with her bag slung over her shoulder.
“Where’s Jack?” I ask her.
“The car’s there.” Nessa points to a nearby parking stall. “But it’s locked, and empty.”
I get out my phone, planning to text Jack’s phone with something polite and simple—like maybe
one of those yellow middle finger emojis. Then he pops up next to me, saying, “You ready to go?”
“Yes!” Nessa says sweetly.
“We’ve been ready to go for twenty minutes,” I lie. “Where were you?”
“Taking a leak,” Jack says.
He holds open the back door so Ness and I can slide inside.
I lean back against the leather seat, not really believing him.
I’m quiet on the drive back to the Griffins’ mansion, wondering how in the fuck I’m going to avoid Oliver Castle in the future. About halfway home, I get a text from Callum saying:
Come meet me in the library when you get back.
I get out of the car as soon as it stops moving, hurrying into the pleasantly cool house and heading directly up the stairs to the library.
Callum is sitting in one of the new armchairs—cream leather this time, instead of brown. I take a seat in the chair opposite.
He looks pale and composed in his dark suit. I can already tell that he found something, from the resolute set of his shoulders.
Before he says anything, I want to tell him about Oliver showing up on campus. The problem is that Oliver groping me the other night was the one and only time I’ve seen Callum lose his temper. It’s a sore subject between us. I’m not exactly looking forward to bringing it up. Especially when we’ve been working so well together.
Before I can start, Callum says, “We found one of the shooters. Not the Butcher, though. Your brothers think we should smash up Zajac’s casino tonight. Try to flush him out.”
“Are you going with them?” I ask.
He steels himself, and says, “Yes. And you could come, too. If you wanted.”
I can tell it’s not what he wants at all, but he’s offering it, not even waiting for me to make the demand.
Now I definitely don’t want to tell him about Oliver.
Instead, I say, “I do want to come.”
Callum looks slightly pained but doesn’t take his offer back.
It’s funny that he invited me into the library. I haven’t stepped foot in here since the first night we met.
The restored portrait of his great-great-however many greats-grandmother is back above the mantel. Also the carriage clock and the hourglass. But no watch anymore.
