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And when it goes viral at the party, Archer disappears. Because it’s easier to brush me away than admit once again that he is a prick.
Archer stands in the middle of the living room with a drink in his hand, quiet and staring at me like I came to slaughter him.
Oh, I will.
“Number one,” I say as I stop ten feet away from him, hands on my waist. “The fact that you took a screenshot of me while I was on cam is beneath you. Or so I thought. But I guess I was wrong.”
“Kat, you are not—”
“Then you shared that picture with someone? Really? Wow! Is that the sort of shit you do when your ego wants revenge?” I lift my chin.
He frowns, his voice strangely low when he says, “I didn’t share it.”
I don’t believe it. “Really, Archer, you could’ve been a decent human for once, yeah?”
“You are not listening, Kat—”
“You know what? Doesn’t matter,” I lie. It matters but it’s useless to tell him that. He sets up his chessboard for a game, and when the pieces are gone, he sets up a new one. On repeat. I am just one of the pieces. And he is not even willing to shake hands decently when it’s over.
“Kat, listen, tell me about it later. Right now is—”
“Oh, you take a picture that’s mysteriously leaked to your fanbase but, no, let’s not talk about it. You are fucking selfish, Archer!” I shout, stabbing my forefinger in the air at him. “We had a thing going on. Not serious, fine. A fling, I understand. You can’t bond with people, understandable. But no, you can’t be just a good guy taking what you want and rolling with it. You need to teach me a lesson and humiliate me.”
“Kat! Stop!” he shouts, and I draw a breath in shock. “Stop talking right now. Please.”
Is he for real?
“Stop talking?” There is no stopping me. Emotions clog my chest. “Why? Because everything is more important than me?” He closes his eyes and rakes his hand through his hair. “That’s how it is with you, Archer. You have no consideration for others.”
“Can you let me speak?”
“No!” I snap, feeling my chest shake. If I let him speak, I’ll cry. I can barely hold back tears. “You are a beautiful selfish prick. You take what you want, then toss the person away. Without a single flying fuck. Just like with Olivia.”
His eyes widen, and I glare at him in triumph.
“What the fuck, Kat,” he breathes.
I don’t even know exactly what happened to Olivia. The Eastsiders don’t talk about it. Marlow doesn’t either. All I know is that Olivia was abducted by the Savages, and somewhere before they reached the Ashlands, she was assaulted and killed by a group of men.
I can’t imagine.
I don’t want to.
But I am not the first one to accuse Archer of not sending help. He praises himself for keeping this island safe. But only when it suits him.
“You have cameras all over this island,” I say sharply. “You parade your guards like a fucking dictator. But when someone else gets hurt, you don’t bother to lift a finger.”
“You don’t know what you are talking about.” His voice is barely a rasp.
“No? Olivia does. But she is dead. Yeah? Because who cares about others when you have yachts and escorts and your billion-dollar business that caters to the wealthy assholes?” I feel my chest tighten and a lump in my throat. “Who cares about others’ feelings when they are just…”
I hold back a sob.
My eyes burn with tears because he doesn’t answer.
Because I am right.
Because I thought we had something going on.
