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His lips part in surprise, and then he moans, “Al—”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Allura?” my mother says from the other side of the dressing room.
I honestly forgot she was even there.
“We need to get going,” she tells me before I can even reply. “We have a lot of things to do today, so hurry up and get dressed. And Blaise, can you please come out? I need to talk to you for a minute.”
I stare into Blaise’s eyes, hesitating.
“Later,” he promises then leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “I’ll go talk to your mother.”
With that, he exits the dressing room, shutting the door behind him.
And I’m left utterly perplexed, partly by his later comment, but mostly by what my mother wants to talk to him about.
The possibilities that come to mind leave me with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
THIRTEEN
BLAISE
I’m so riled up I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I can still smell her, taste her, feel her warmth even as I walk away.
And I am so fucked. No, I’m beyond fucked.
I wasn’t supposed to touch her yet. I know this, and yet she gives me one look with those big, gorgeous eyes of hers … and nearly three years of work could be for nothing.
No, don’t think that. No one saw.
Yeah, except for Justine might know what we were doing, and her finding out about it isn’t a good thing.
But maybe she doesn’t know.
Or perhaps, if she does, I can scare her into keeping her mouth shut. Justine is weak; maybe the weakest person I know. And a bully. If our plan works, then none of us, including Allura, will ever have to see that bitch again.
I’m still hard as hell when I leave the dressing room, so I take a few minutes to breathe in and out to calm down before I track down Justine. Weirdly, she’s standing in front of the door, staring out the window at the city street currently dusted with a light layer of snow.
“What do you want, Justine?” I ask with impatience as I move up beside her.
She remains quiet for a bit before saying, “It’s going to be a cold winter this year. Maybe even one of the worst the city has seen.” She has her arms crossed, and her eyes stay fastened to the street. “At least, that’s what everyone is saying, as if it should instill some sort of fear in us, like an extra amount of snow is the most frightening thing in the world.” She releases a dry laugh. “It’s daunting, isn’t it? To think that snow storms are the most frightening thing in the world for some people, but for people like you, me, and my daughter, that’s not the case.” She looks at me then. “Is it?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I say in a bored tone. Inside, though, anxiety is trickling through my veins. I can sense an impending snowstorm coming, one much worse than what winter is promising the city.
She faces me. Normally, Justine is the equivalent of a Stepford housewife, but she resembles somewhat of a human in this moment, making my anxiety spike.
“I need you to take care of her.” Her tone is even and calm, but her eyes carry an intensity I’ve never seen before. “I know you cared about her at one point. So did Ryder and Reece. And I’m not sure what happened between the four of you—what transpired to make you separate—but I need you to promise me that, no matter what happens, you’ll take care of my daughter.” Her eyes lower to the floor. “I haven’t been the best mother, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever could be … I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. I never desired it. I never wanted any of this. But like you know, in this world, we don’t get to choose our paths, at least not for people like me and my daughter, so I’m asking you to take care of her … no matter what happens.”
“What do you think’s going to happen?” I ask, measuring her reaction.
She has a secret. I can tell.
“Nothing.” When she returns her eyes to me, any signs of emotion have faded. “It’s just my duty as her mother to have you promise this to me.”
She’s so full of shit, but before I can attempt to drag the truth out of her, Allura is heading toward us.
“Please just promise me, Blaise,” Justine hisses.
