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No kidding. Fucking ten sparkly red hearts.
Logically, I know Aspen isn’t the heart type of person and would rather be eaten by a shark than be affectionate. It’s one of the few traits we have in common.
Illogically, however, the thought that she has a man in her life who’s the exception to her no-emotions rule burns in my veins like cheap whiskey.
I answer it, fully intending to wield my dick card in a glamorous swing.
The shrill voice that greets me from the other end puts a not-so-glamorous halt to my plan. “Aspennnn! Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours and seriously contemplated going to the police and shit. And that would be for two different reasons. Your disappearance and Mateo’s one thousand percent chances of committing mass murder. He knows about the jerk Della Roma hitting me, and his battery charges will look like a joke in front of his ‘I’ll murder him and his entire family’ charges. I tried stopping him and keeping him with me, but he left first thing this morning while I was asleep.”
“You should’ve tried harder then. Now, I have to clean up your mess.”
There’s a long pause on the other end before who I’m sure is Caroline Luciano whispers, “Kingsley?”
“The one and only.”
“Hi! I’m Caroline.”
“No shit. I assume you’re the one with enough audacity to save her name as My Ride or Die with a disgusting amount of hearts.”
“Shhh. Don’t tell Aspen.” Her humor disappears. “Wait, she didn’t change it back? Where is she and what have you done to her?”
“She’s hurt and asleep. Don’t bother her until tomorrow.”
“What—”
I hang up before she can finish her sentence and head out with plans for my favorite dish.
Revenge.
ASPEN
AGE FOURTEEN
“And now what?” I cross my arms over my chest, pretending I’m not in fact barely trying to toe the line. At this point, there’s no doubt that alcohol is probably flowing in my system instead of blood.
The cold air bites my skin with the consistency of a venomous snake, but I keep my lips shut to prevent my teeth from chattering.
Any semblance of warmth is provided by a hand that’s crushing mine. Anonymous’s strong fingers have been holding my own hostage for the past half an hour after he led me out of the house.
When I tried to protest, he said either I go along with this holding-hand thing or I could resume my previous position on his shoulder.
This asshole has an infuriating way of giving stupid choices that aren’t really choices in the first place.
We’re now walking down the streets that are filled with blinding lights and a horde of people.
I’ve never liked the nice side of town. So even when Callie comes here any chance she gets, I avoid it with everything in me.
The nice side of town smells of dollar bills, expensive perfumes, and a luxury we’re not allowed to breathe near. So until I make my own way to this place, I’d rather not be here.
Anonymous stares ahead, but he doesn’t seem absorbed in the festivities, the joy, or the endless people in costumes of different colors and shapes. If anything, he appears bored by it all. However, he still stands out in the middle of it, and that has little to do with his mask and more to do with his whole aura.
His black slacks and T-shirt stretch across his muscles, hinting at some sort of physical discipline. Which makes sense, considering the way he knocked someone out earlier. But there’s more perfection than his physical superiority. It’s his presence, his edge, and his well-spoken manner.
He’ll probably grow up to be a man of power, like the people my father works for.
Maybe he’ll be so much worse.
And yet, I can’t help being trapped in his orbit with no chances of ever wrenching myself out of this trance.
