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A woman sitting behind a desk greets me with a fake smile. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Diavolo requested my presence.” I try my best not to sound bitchy, but that’s much easier to do when you don’t feel like a tennis ball that’s been whacked across the court for the last half an hour.
His assistant types something into the computer while I lean on my crutches, my chest heaving as I suck air into my lungs. It might not seem like a long walk, and it’s not when you’re walking on two good legs, but with crutches and dodging bodies, it seems way longer.
“Ahhh, yes. I see he made a note for you to come and talk to him. Head on in.” She looks up at me and gestures to the door on the left side of her desk.
I swallow down my fear of what’s going to take place in that office any second from now and trudge forward. As soon as I open the door, I want to turn around. Lucas is intimidating, and without Quinton’s protection, I feel like a lighthouse on the beach ready to take the battering of the ocean.
“Have a seat, Aspen.” Lucas gestures to the two seats in front of his desk.
My stomach knots, and I look at the seats and back at him. Lucas is what I would call a dangerous sort of handsome. For an older man, he appears rather youthful. Maybe it’s the fact that he is covered in tattoos.
His features are still firm, and his body, which I imagine is chiseled from stone, probably doesn’t show his age either.
I hobble over to a chair and almost let out a sigh when my ass hits the seat. Lucas watches me intently, his dark gaze penetrating deep inside me. It’s terrifying.
His lips press into a thin line, and I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on when he speaks.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, and with your broken leg, it might be hard to attend classes, but I can’t let you graduate if you aren’t going.”
It’s the final nail in the coffin known as my life. Not really, but it feels like it. The weight of his words slams into me, and my response sputters out.
“I understand. I’ll start going to classes tomorrow. I’ve just been wary with the leg, and I take a lot longer to get places, but I don’t want to risk not graduating or having to take classes over next year.”
He nods. “I’m sure it’s difficult, but my hands are tied.”
I don’t ask him in what way they’re tied. I don’t care. I knew I’d have to go back to classes. It just turns out I am going a little earlier than expected.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.”
It hits me then, smashing into me with the intensity of a mac truck. I’ve been so consumed with Quinton and the crash that I never stopped to ask anyone if they contacted my parents.
“Did you contact my mother to let her know about the crash?”
Lucas frowns. “I called her the day you left, and then again when you were brought into medical. I even tried to get ahold of your father, but neither of your parents have responded.”
I nod and swallow past the knot in my throat. Part of me isn’t surprised, but another, smaller part of me is. Perhaps my mother didn’t care enough to make sure I was okay, but my father sent me here to protect me. If he discovered I was hurt or missing, he would’ve done whatever he could to help. I’m sure of it.
“Was that all? Your email made it sound like you had more than one thing you wanted to discuss.”
“That’s all. You’re free to return to your dorm.”
“Oh, okay. Well, please let me know if they get back to you.”
He nods again, and all I see in his eyes when I look back up at him is pity. He feels sorry for me. It’s written all over his face. The girl no one cares about. Not even her own parents care to know if she’s alive.
I’d laugh if it wasn’t so fucking sad.
Instead, I do what I do best and blink back the tears, refusing to let anyone see me weak. Quinton’s already seen the worst pieces of me, and he’s gone now. Now, I have to fend for myself… at least I know I won’t die. Maybe.
14
QUINTON
Staying away from Aspen has been harder than I anticipated. She has a hold on me I can’t explain or shake, no matter how much I want to. I try to occupy myself with making Matteo’s life miserable, but it’s just not as satisfying as taunting Aspen. It merely scratches an itch.
“Did you like my presentation, Quinton?” Anja’s annoying voice drags me out of my mind.
