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“Oh, and what is that?” he sneers, a brow lifted in challenge.
“Mock me all you want, Lucian. I don’t care. I’ve thought long and hard about this. There’s only one thing that will get me to stick around, keep Cristo off your back, and get you your precious diploma.”
In my bed, under the covers, I’d thought about what would make this right and what I could get from him that I couldn’t get from anyone else. I require safety and secrecy—and he’s capable of giving me both.
In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of me. Taking my chin in his fingers, he snarls, “The fucking Popescu prince asks you to do something, you fucking do it. End of story.”
I shake my head but can’t loosen his grip.
Grasping his hand, I try to pry his fingers off. No use.
I stop fighting him but it doesn’t prevent me from glaring at him with the full blast of my hatred. “I’ll do it, if you give me what I want. Otherwise, I’ll go to Cristo and tell him to find someone else. You swore to him that he wouldn’t hear from either of us again, that there wouldn’t be any problems. It will make you look weak if you can’t control a woman.”
The anger coming off him is palpable, but I lift my chin and promise, “But if you give me what I want, I’ll be dutiful and quiet.”
“Since when are you so stubborn?” he asks, his features twisted in exasperation.
He might be exasperated, but he’s got nothing on me.
“Since I’m sick of being good. Good equals stupid equals getting treated like you’re nothing, and I’m done with that. The good girl is dead, so get used to it.”
He shakes his head a little but doesn’t relent on his grip of my chin. “You’re talking in riddles. Spit it out already and tell me what you want.”
I wrap my fingers around his hand and he finally allows me to pry his fingers off. “If you’d let me talk, I’ll explain.”
“Go ahead then,” he snaps.
God, I hate him.
Considering just how much I hate him, it’s a wonder I’m about to propose this to him. But my choices are limited, I remind myself. As horrible as he is, he’s still my best option. Okay, let’s face it—he’s my only option.
“After graduation, I want you to help me escape,” I blurt. “I’m doing everything I can to get into a good college far, far away and, when I get accepted, I’m going to leave this hellhole. You help me get out without anyone finding me and in exchange, I’ll help you with your reading assignments, essays, and preparing for tests. I won’t help you cheat, but I’ll be at your beck and call.”
I gulp. “Anytime you need me. Day or night.”
Shock spreads over his face.
I pause and take in a deep breath before emphasizing, “But only if I get what I want.”
He stumbles back a step.
“Oh, come on,” I huff. “Don’t act so surprised. And before you ask me any stupid questions, the answer is yes, I know what I’m doing. Yes, I’m aware that I’m ruining my chances of a good marriage.”
His face morphs into shock.
“God, stop looking at me like that. I won’t get married. So what?”
“So what?” he asks, outrage reverberating through his tone. “Why in the fuck would you do that?”
Men are so dense, it’s a wonder they’re the ones who rule the world. They must think we’re incredibly dumb. How could we possibly be interested in anything but the stupid rules they’ve set out for us? His shock is almost laughable.
I cross my arms over my chest and reply, “After the way you’ve treated me, I’m not sharing anything with you. Just to be clear, Lucian, I don’t wantanything else from you. I don’t want an apology. I don’t want friendship. I don’t need you to respect me or my choices. I’d have to care enough about what you think for that to happen. In case I didn’t make it clear, if you help me, I’ll disappear forever. You’ll never see me again, God willing.”
If possible, his expression only turns darker. I thought he’d be pleased with that last bit, but whatever. I’m beyond caring what he thinks.
His face is stiff, but I ignore it and keep going, “This is an arrangement to get me where I want to be, and that’s all it is. The only thing I ask is that you maintain the utmost discretion. No one finds out about our arrangement. Not Anton. Not Marku. Not your sister. Not your mother.”
He jeers, “My family knows nothing about my life.”
