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There’s a moment where I debate on kissing her, telling her I don’t give a shit what color her hair is. But I don’t. Things are already too complicated between us, and I sure as hell can’t add to it. “You don’t want to color your hair cherry dogshit? Fine. But redheads draw too much attention, and you don’t need any damn attention on you. So, go on to Wal-E-Mart’s fucking website and find a shade of brown that you can deal with.”
“And then I can leave the house?”
“Depending on the situation.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “You came back, remember? So you’re gonna have to trust me.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Fine.”
But there’s something in her eyes that tells me even if she picks out the color, she still won’t do it. Because she’s defiant and can’t stand the idea of anyone but her having a single iota of control over her life.
Victoria
The early morning sunshine catches in the mirror as I pull the last of my stitches out. Caleb did the best he could, but he’s no surgeon and it’s left an ugly scar. It’s a permanent reminder of what Bob did to me, right there for the world to see.
My attention moves to the new box of brown hair dye with a sticky note attached to it.
Dye your fucking hair!
I wave a middle finger at Jude’s message. Now, he’s resorting to communicating via sticky notes.
I’m going to do it. I want to be able to go outside and have some kind of life. My hesitation comes from the fact that the second I become a brunette, Victoria Devaux as I know her will be gone. I’m no longer the same person inside, but at least I still recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
On a sigh, I snatch the box and rip it open.
I sit on the edge of the tub while the dye sets, staring at the spot on the floor where I straddled Jude. As embarrassed as I am that he rejected me and I dry humped him, the memory of his body against mine still burns through my veins like a sickness. I have to question why the hell I’m drawn to a guy I know is bad for me. But this house is something like the twilight zone, where real-world consequences don’t apply. Maybe normal rules don’t apply when the villain plays a warped version of the hero. And he certainly does a good job of that.
Any time anything happens between us, the man retreats as if he’s just committed some atrocity. His rejection stings a little, even if I understand it. Though it doesn’t explain why he wants me in his bed every night. Because I have tried to go back to Caleb’s, and that never ends well.
I wash the dye out, then towel my hair and stare at my reflection.
Dark brown waves spill over my shoulders, making my already pale skin appear paler. I don’t look like the same person, and maybe that’s fitting because I know I’ll never again be who I was before I set foot in this house. I thought I would hate everything about this metamorphosis, but I don’t.
I tell myself I’ll go blonde again when this is over, that my life isn’t over, it’s just on pause.
Sighing, I move away from the vanity and head downstairs. I pour coffee in a mug, then take milk from the fridge.
“Your hair looks nice,” Caleb says from the living room. It does not. It looks awful, Caleb is just too nice to be honest.
“Thanks,” I mumble as I put the milk back.
Caleb glances at my mug when I step into the living room. “You drink a lot of coffee for a British person.”
“What else am I supposed to drink?”
He shrugs. “Tea.”
I fall onto the couch beside him. “Do you see any tea in this house?”
“Sweet tea…”
I struggle not to make a face. That stuff is offensive. “Gross.”
A cabinet in the kitchen opens, followed by the noise of Jude moving around. We’re both doing a great job of avoiding each other. Even though I woke up with his arm around my waist and his dick against my ass this morning.
A few minutes later, the door down the hall clicks shut, and I know he’s disappeared into his office. I release a long breath, exasperated by the man.
“Trouble in paradise?” Caleb smiles, changing the channel to the news.
I glare at him. “We are not fucking.” Just dry humping. Ugh.
The sound of Euan’s name pulls my attention from Caleb to the TV. A female reporter stands before a rotted pier with yellow police tape blocking the entrance.
“The body of the twenty-five-year medical student was found in Smith Lake by a local fisherman. Euan Williams was considered a suspect in the recent murder case of his girlfriend, Victoria Deveaux, another medical student from Vanderbilt University. Police say his death is being treated as suspicious.”
