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God. Damn. It.
Fuck my lizard brain. Fuck it right to hell.
I hike the heavy box of books higher as my attention falls to his exposed tan skin. Heat pools low in my stomach. When I dart my eyes back up, his smirk stretches. What an ass. He knows exac
tly what he’s doing.
Well, it won’t work on me. I won’t let it. Our fake kiss is all he’ll get out of me.
“Would it kill you to lift a finger?” I gasp.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. The box is hard to hold in my slippery grip.
Devlin shrugs. “It might.”
Rolling my eyes, I get the burden into the trunk without his help. It’s filled with my favorite books. I’m not bringing much else with me. A patched up duffel stuffed with some clothes sits next to the box. Other than that I have my backpack full of school supplies and my two uniforms.
Devlin insisted on picking me up to make sure I wasn’t backing out. His mechanic is supposed to pick up my Corolla later and drop it off.
We have Monday off from school. I’ll be trapped for three days straight in Devlin’s giant house.
This is insane.
I’m moving in with Devlin.
All because the arrogant asshole considers footing Mom’s medical bills payment for his demand.
Grateful relief brawls with the part of me outraged that he’s using his financial assistance to manipulate me. Now he believes he owns me even more than before. This no longer feels like a game to humiliate me as payback.
It’s darker, more twisted and sinister.
I have to adapt again to his mind games. If I don’t, he’ll swallow me whole in damnation and hellfire, consuming me until my last breath.
The problem isn’t dancing with the devil.
It’s that I’m willing to keep selling my soul to him if it means Mom gets better treatment and top of the line medical care.
We would never be able to afford that private hospital room, let alone the ambulance ride with our lack of insurance and limited income.
“Is that everything?” Devlin surveys my measly collection of belongings. “You don’t have more?”
He probably sees junk, but to me I have my most treasured possessions—my book collection and a few of my favorite printouts of folk art I got at the library. The carefully pieced together set of books is one of the few things I’ve saved for myself.
I shrug. “That’s it. The rest can stay here.”
“Then lock up your rat-sized shoebox and let’s get the hell out of here. This place is depressing, and your neighbors keep staring at Red.”
“They’re mentally pricing what they could get for your rims alone.”
Devlin slides his sunglasses down and peers over the frames. “I won’t offer them the same deal I have with you if they touch my ride.”
The look he sends me tangles my insides in knots. A hot and cold sensation travels across my skin, leaving me shivering.
Shaking it off, I jog back to the trailer and hesitate at the open door, peering inside. There isn’t an ounce of attachment for the place. Without Mom, it doesn’t feel like home. Just an empty space with mismatched furniture making an attempt at creating a comfortable space.
People are your home, not the places you live.
Nodding to myself, I lock up.
