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I want to get out of here, and out of this damn dress.
Dom has gone into full on sex-offender mode, and I need to get the hell away from him before I tell Mom exactly what she’s marrying into. If I do that, it’ll make it impossible for her to marry Nataniele, especially after what happened, but then what would I do? Hand myself in to the police and confess everything? Mom’s already begged me not to do that, not to leave her alone so soon after losing Dad. I might be willing to put myself in that position, but I won’t do it to my mom.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the screen.
The phone is a burner, and Mom told me not to give the number to anyone back home, but I couldn’t just completely cut myself off from everyone. I made Lola promise not to store it in her phone and to delete any messages I sent her. I haven’t saved her number in my phone either because I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to discover any of my contacts from back home, but I recognize it as Lola’s anyway.
My stomach flips.
A rush of heat, followed by a dousing of ice-cold floods through me. Chilled sweat prickles across my hairline, and I find myself shrinking inward. She doesn’t know about me and him, but she used to tease me about the way I always blushed when he addressed me in class. Plus, practically all the girls in college used to crush over him, and half the boys, too. She’s fully aware I’ll know exactly who she’s talking about.
The cell phone trembles in my hand.
He’s missing, so it means the cops haven’t found his body yet. Surely someone will go to his apartment to check on him? He doesn’t have any family he’s close to, no one who’ll miss him outside of work. When the body is discovered, how long will it take for the police to put two and two together? How long for them to ask the right questions and learn about our relationship? My friends believe my mother is remarrying and that we’re having to start over again somewhere new, but that’s as much detail as I’ve been able to give them. There’s no way for the cops to track us down here. We have no bills in our names, no rent to pay, no record of us whatsoever. Soon enough, Mom will remarry and then we’ll have new names, too. While I know I’ve left DNA all over the apartment, I’ve also never been arrested. DNA is only useful if there’s someone to match it to.
A male voice snatches my attention. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Dom must have noticed my reaction, the way the blood has drained from my face, the vibrations of my body.
He snatches the phone from my hand before I’ve even had the chance to close the screen.
“Give that back,” I demand.
He ignores me and scrolls through the messages. “Who the fuck is the professor? Who is he to you?”
He lifts his gaze to mine, a strange kind of anger darkening his eyes. What is that emotion? Is it jealousy?
“What the hell do you care?”
“Who is this, Duchess?” Dom asks again waving the phone in my direction.
I make a snatch at it, but he holds it out of my reach. “It’s none of your business.”
“You’re my business,” he says.
I grit my teeth. “How the fuck do you figure that?”
“You’re going to be my stepsister, aren’t you? We’re family.”
“We’ll never be family.”
Isn’t that what he’s been telling me ever since I arrived?
He pinches his lips, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “If you’ve got someone hassling you, you know you can just send him in our direction, right? The Devils don’t let anyone mess with what’s ours.”
My jaw drops. “Since when have I been yours? Or Tino’s? Or fucking Kirill’s, for that matter?”
He shrugs. “Since I said so.”
“Well, I’m not anyone’s, so get that idea out of your head. Now, give my goddamned phone back.”
Begrudgingly, he hands it over, and I quickly lock it so he can’t get back in.
“I hate to think of you with an ex.” His eyes narrow. “Did you fuck him? Is he the one who took your V-card?”
My cheeks burn. “Mind your own fucking business, Dom.”
