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“Because your mom is a social vampire and your dad is an asshole but he’s not stupid.”
“Hey,” she glares at me. “My dad is not an asshole…he’s flawed.”
I notice she doesn’t even bother to defend her mother. “You’re an only child, they don’t have any other options to inherit their council seat or their businesses.”
“They have Tyberius.”
I grimace. I doubt they will give a cent to Tyberius …not with his gambling problem, but Etta doesn’t need to know that. It would just upset her. “Maybe? But I still don’t think they would just throw away their only kid.”
“You’re underestimating how much they hate you.”
“Look, if I’m not worried about being disowned, you shouldn’t be.”
It’s a bald-faced lie. She’s actually bringing up a good point—maybe I should be worried about it. I actually do think she’s safe, but me? Not so much. My parents actually have a pretty good alternative heir in Bennet. He’s more responsible than I am, and I’m fairly sure my dad likes him better than me. I’m actually at a pretty severe risk of disownment…except I don’t care. Because all I’ve ever cared about is sitting in the passenger seat next to me, and I’m so close to getting to keep her forever.
It’s pitch dark as I pull into Etta’s driveway. It’s only five, but daylight savings makes it feel like midnight. I suggest we meet up tomorrow—same time—to go see her aunt in Salem. She bites her lip, seeming unsure and my stomach plummets…if she’s going to back out.
“I can’t tomorrow,” she says.
“Why?”
“I have class. I am still enrolled for the moment, and then I have to have dinner with my parents and Harrison. It’s probably best to keep up the pretense, don’t you think?”
I raise an eyebrow. She doesn’t know it, but I didn’t just drive home and go to bed after finding her on the side of the road the other night. Of fucking course not. But even after driving around, checking social media, and scrying again, Harrison Dane was nowhere. He’d vanished, like a fucking ghost. I sort of assumed that he bolted after whatever went down with Etta, maybe afraid of her family’s retaliation if he offended her or something.
“You’re still saying he didn’t hurt you the other night,” I ask, my anger from the other evening rising again full force.
“He didn’t,” she insists. “And if he did, I could have handled it, but if I don’t go to this dinner he’ll definitely say something to my parents about how bad Monday went.”
I press my lips together. It’s not that I think she’s weak or unable to handle herself, it’s that Harrison Dane is a full-fledged member of the Order and Etta isn’t. Size and strength aside, she’s at a power disadvantage. I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing myself not to lose my shit. “Fine. So, is this dinner at least with other people?” I bite out.If it’s not there’s no way she’s going.
“Yeah, it’s here, with my parents. I’m shocked he even wants to, but…” she shrugs, her mouth disappearing into a flat, upset line.
A vein throbs in my temple.It’s temporary,I remind myself. Soon I’ll have her all to myself, and exploding now in a fit of jealousy over a man she clearly despises will only scare her. “That’s at night, though. Not in the afternoon, right? When will your last class get out?”
“4:30.”
Damn, that’s probably too late to make it over there. “Okay, the next day, then. I’ll pick you up.”
She bites her lip, obviously unsure. In any normal circumstance I wouldn’t be pushing so hard for this. I hate readers, and I’m tempted to admit that to her—admit that the revelation that the only potential witness from her family is a reader isn’t a welcome one.
I didn’t think to ask Etta if she cares about star charts and predestined matches when we were making our plans because to me all that mattered was that she was offering herself on a silver platter. She can’t possibly, right?
Only now, I’m imagining the reader telling us we’re widely incompatible and that she has some other, faceless, nameless perfect match out there. The man is fictional, and still, I’m furious. Already, my hands clench into fists, as I imagine wrapping my hands around his throat. She’s mine. She’s only ever been mine, and I don’t care what her aunt or her parents or the fucking stars say. I defy you, stars!
“Alright.” Etta nods. “Just be careful. We should figure out a meeting spot or something.”
“Or you could give me your number.”
She pauses, one hand on the car door. “Yeah, okay.”
She takes out her phone and rattles off her number, before taking mine as well. I notice her glancing at me as she does this, her gaze seeming to linger on my hands. I furrow my brows. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says, her tone clipped. “I’m just surprised you didn’t write it below the hygienist.”
It takes me a moment to understand what she means. I laugh, glancing at the faded sharpie on my hand. “Jealous?”
“Gods, no,” she says too fast.
