by Lily White
“If you don’t fucking like it, move out. You’re the adult, aren’t you? Go get married or whatever it is you’re supposed to do with your life.”
With a roll of her eyes, Emily throws up her hands. “Fuck off. Mom and dad will kill you for this.”
He laughs at that. “You act like they ever come back here or give a damn what I’m doing. I’m not the expensive piece of ass they’re selling off. Get the fuck out of here with your good girl shit. Go spread your legs for the Cross twins so you’re not so bitchy all the time.”
Emily’s eyes round with anger, but rather than answering him, she walks away. It’s probably best she lets it go. Dylan has never had a fuck to give.
“I should have the twins drag his ass off to an alley somewhere and teach him why he shouldn’t piss me off,” she grumbles as she brushes past me. “Might teach the asshole some respect.”
Following her, I keep my mouth shut until we walk into her room.
“We did worse, Em. His little gathering is a nothing more than a proper tea party compared to the trouble we caused.”
Laughing at that, she nods her head.
“True. Okay, well, I’m grabbing a shower. I hope you don’t mind, but Ezra is supposed to be coming by in a half hour. I didn’t expect to have to rescue you today, or I would have canceled. I mean, I still can, if you want.“
“Don’t worry about it. I can keep myself entertained while you play with him.”
She smiles at that. “You’re the best. I’d tell you I’ll hurry it along just so you’re not bored, but that won’t be an option. I like to take my time with those boys.”
I walk into her closet to grab some clean clothes.
“Take all the time you need.”
Dylan wasn’t wrong to tease that Emily needed something to help her mood. She hasn’t been herself since the engagement party. I would assume it’s the issue with Mason that has her so down, but I’m starting to think it has more to do with the twins than anything.
That’s on her to figure out, though. I have problems of my own. First and foremost, the need to get out of these wet clothes and into something warm.
Outside, another storm is rolling in, the distant thunder barely loud enough to grab my attention.
I strip off my wet dress and drop it into a pile of dirty clothes Emily has in the corner of the closet and grab a pair of thin sweatpants and a long sleeve cotton shirt to put on.
Thankfully, my panties are mostly dry, so I keep them on, but my dress had a built-in bra shelf, which means I have nothing to wear up top. I’d borrow something of Emily’s, but there’s no way I’m stuffing a set of Cs into her modest B cups.
Damn it.
I need my bags, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to Gabriel to get them.
Nobody can make me go anywhere near that man. Not for the rest of my miserable life. I flat out fucking refuse.
And with that thought in mind, I walk out of the closet, turn toward a noise, and scream to see Gabriel standing in the doorway, an arrogant smirk curling his lips as his eyes run a slow path down my body.
“You look nice,” he teases, pure humor in his voice. “Although I think I liked the dress from earlier better.”
His emerald green eyes meet mine. “It was easier access.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I hate the high pitch of my voice, the obvious shock. But this jerk has a way of sneaking up on you in the most unlikely of places. He knows it, too, if that charming smile he wears has anything to say about it.
Leaning a shoulder against the frame of the door, he keeps me locked in that charming stare, the true Gabriel I know peeking out from behind it.
“You left before we had a chance to discuss our upcoming wedding. Should our colors be white and silver, or are you more partial to blue? Also, are we doing a full cake, or do you prefer the tiered cupcake arrangement? I hear those are popular these days.”
“Stop being an idiot. You’re here to rub it in that you think you won.”
He blinks at that. “I haven’t?”
“Not even close.”
He grins. “Such a shame, I’ll be sure to cancel the trophy I ordered with my name engraved on the plaque. It’ll be sad to cancel the victory party. I was so looking forward to the clowns and balloon animals.”
My lips twitch at that, only because it reminds me how much of an idiot he was to believe anything I said on our date.
Cocking an arrogant brow, he says, “Actually, I’m here to give you your bags.”
His eyes slowly drop to my chest, my nipples hard because it’s cold, and the shirt is thin.
“I thought you might need them. And apparently I was right. Unless you like the all-natural look. In case you’re wondering, I’m a fan.”
Crossing my arms to cover my chest, I wait for his eyes to lift again, that lying smile stretching his mouth when he sees the annoyance in my expression.
“Are you going to help me get the bags, or were you expecting me to drag all forty of them in myself?”
“It’s seventeen, Gabe. You know that.”
“My apologies for miscounting.”
His brows shoot up.
“We can stand here all night, if you want, but I assumed you’d want to get rid of me as soon as possible.”
“Can we backdate that? I’d like to get rid of you eighteen years ago.”
Laughter shakes his shoulders. “Sorry, love. No can do. Plus, how boring would your life have been without me?”
I drop my arms and walk to him, our eyes locking as I draw close. “I’m sure I would have survived.”
“But would you have felt as alive?”
My heart thumps painfully at his words, our gazes tangling together without hope of letting go.
It doesn’t matter what he’s doing or where we are. I see Gabriel as a man, but also as a nine-year-old boy, the two images superimposed.
Now he stands with his posture relaxed, his face all hard angles and easy charm. But beneath that is the scrawny kid with wavy hair that fell to his chin, his eyes swollen and his lip split.
I’d offered him a popsicle that day, thinking it might make his lip feel better, and while our fathers stood at a distance discussing business, he’d knocked the treat from my hand like I’d offended him.
“I don’t want it.
“But you’re hurt. It will make you feel better.”
“You’re not supposed to see that.”
He shoved me to the ground after saying those words.
The boy had hurt me, and I’d cried back then. His father had laughed proudly while Gabriel glared down at me. Like Gabe was supposed to hurt people because that’s who he is.
Through the years, he learned to wear the charming mask, and he’d fooled everybody around him. Seduced them into compliance. Made them feel safe.
And in the background where nobody could see, the boy grew up and kept hurting me, but I hurt him back.
An entire lifetime of it leaving us with scars that are perfectly matched.
I wish he’d let more people see behind the easy smile and charming manners. Those scars somehow make him more beautiful.
“Bags,” he reminds me on a whisper. “Do you want them or not?”
I shake myself of the past. I’m dazed and confused, but that’s how he always leaves me.
“Yes. Of course, I do. I’m a little surprised you brought them. Especially after everything you’ve done.”
He softly clasps my chin between his fingers. “Are you still mad about that?”
Ignoring the spark that always jumps between us, I nod my head. “I still plan on murdering you. Slowly. Most likely painfully as well.”
Heat flashes in his green eyes, his mouth curling into a grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”
This time it’s Gabriel who gets lost in thought as he stares at me, his eyes searching my face, his fingers softly tracing my jaw.
“So about those bags,” I remind him, becau
se I can’t see that heat and not be affected by it. I can’t feel his touch and not want more of it.
It’s how the worst night between us happened, the night I saw something I shouldn’t have, and nature almost struck us dead.
I have to hate Gabriel, and I can’t forget that while I’m being lured in by his charm.
Because of him, I have a problem to fix, one which has no easy solution. But also because of him, I get confused and forget what that problem is.
Only when he’s around me.
Only when we’re standing like this.
Only because I see the boy and the man.
And only because I know he’s the broken prince, while everybody else knows Fraud.
I can’t forget.
Not again.
Not ever.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “About them.”
I shove past him despite how much I want to stay standing like this. “Let’s go, Gabriel. It’s best to get this over with and get away from each other.”
He steps up to walk beside me.
Thankfully, the halls are wide enough that it doesn’t shove our shoulders together. Still, having him there is uncomfortable, but more preferable than having him at my back.
Turning a corner, I see Dylan standing in a doorway, his eyes tiny, red slits, his lips curling at the corners. He’s a good-looking kid with dark auburn hair, not as red as Emily’s, more brown. He’s the same height as Gabriel while still not quite filled in, but high school guys never are.
Dylan glances at me, but then locks his stare on Gabriel, their knuckles knocking together in greeting as we pass.
Eyeing Gabriel after he does it, I lift a brow in question.
“I thought you hate Emily and everything about her.”
“Emily is a bitch. But Dylan’s not so bad,” he answers.
“How do you even know him? I mean, as kids, obviously we all knew each other, but how do you know him now?”
We reach the front door, and he grips the handle, his gaze finally crawling to mine.
“Where do you think Sawyer gets his pot?”
My jaw drops as Gabriel opens the door and directs me outside. He’s not letting us slow down for even a second to have this conversation.
“You’re buying from high school kids?”
“Prep schools always have the best shit. And I’m not buying anything. That’s Sawyer’s deal, not mine.”
Keeping his hand on the small of my back, he’s practically pulling me along, his long-legged stride moving much quicker than my legs can keep up.
“Why would Sawyer do that? He’s a twenty-eight-year-old man.”
“I don’t know,” he says as we approach his car. “You’ll have to ask Sawyer that question.”
I roll my eyes. “When would I ever talk to Sawyer? It’s not like I hang out with you guys.”
“How about now?”
“Huh?”
A bag is pulled over my head, and I’m shoved forward by a body much larger than mine, low laughter grabbing my attention as my brain catches up with what’s happening.
That son of a bitch.
“Let me go, Gabriel.”
“I don’t have you, love,” I hear him answer from a distance. “You’ll have to ask Sawyer to do that.”
Struggling against the asshole who’s holding me is useless, my feet lifted off the ground when he wraps an arm around my abdomen and tugs me to him.
I thrash anyway as I hear the distinct sound of a car door open just before I’m tossed onto what I assume is the back seat.
“What the hell are you guys doing?”
Sawyer laughs as he climbs in after me, the car door shutting next to him as another one clicks closed up front.
I try to wriggle away, but he grabs me and holds my hands in place, the stupid bag rubbing against my cheek, making it impossible to see anything.
“I’m going to kill you for this, Gabe! Where the hell are you taking me?”
The car pulls forward, and my body rolls back against the seat with the motion, Sawyer still trapping my wrists together with one of his hands.
“You keep saying that, beautiful, yet I’m still breathing. And I’m taking you to another house so we can finish what we started earlier today.”
“What’s with the bag on my head? This isn’t necessary.”
He laughs.
“Actually, it is. There’s no way in hell I’ll let you see where we’re going.”
Gabriel
Dylan really is a decent kid. And it’s insanely helpful that he hates Ivy as much as I do.
All it took was one phone call from Sawyer and he was on board to help us out.
Unfortunately, the little shit is also a shrewd businessman. It pissed me off, but also made me respect him a little more. I would have done the same thing at his age.
For the low-low price of five hundred dollars, Dylan let me know immediately when Emily and Ivy returned to the house, as well as unlocked the front door for me. I’m sure if I’d dropped another five hundred on top, he would have rolled out a red carpet and given me a celebrity welcome.
I didn’t need all that, though.
Just Ivy.
And now I have her.
Sawyer, thankfully, was more than happy to come along because I wasn’t lying when I told Ivy that he gets his pot from Dylan.
I’m not always a liar and a fraud.
Only about certain things.
Sadly, I never planned on chasing her down this fast, but a few phone calls I made after she left convinced me that having her close by would be more beneficial to me than the entertainment of watching her attempt to put her life back together.
Unlike Tanner, I don’t feel the need to keep the people I’m chasing close. I’m more than happy to let them run around until they’re good and exhausted.
Unfortunately for Ivy, circumstances changed, and I had to move quicker than expected.
“Why are you doing this, Gabriel? Have you lost your mind? This is a little nuts, even for you.”
Laughing at the rage in her voice, I turn a corner and head toward the highway that will take me closer to home.
“Somebody’s been lying, Ivy, and for the first time, it’s not me.”
She grows quiet for a second, and I can hear her shuffling around on the seat. A heavy thud sounds immediately after.
“Fuck! Watch it! You kicked me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says with that sweet voice that always affects me in ways it shouldn’t, “did I hurt you?”
“Yes,” Sawyer grumbles.
Another thud and he yells again.
“The fuck! Stop.”
“Then I suggest you remove your hand from my ass before I kick you again.”
My eyes shoot to the rearview mirror, and Sawyer’s stare meets mine, his lips stretched into a shit-eating grin. He’s enjoying the abduction a little too much.
I narrow my eyes in warning, and when he laughs, I finally understand why Tanner was so intent on killing him.
“I haven’t been lying about anything,” she lies, presumably after Sawyer removes his hand.
Grinning at that, I can’t be mad at her. Ivy is just as much a fraud as me.
“Really? Then you won’t mind explaining to me what connection your family has with a tech firm in Georgia.”
And she goes silent again.
Just like I thought she would.
I’m counting down the seconds in my head until the next lie rolls off her lips. Reaching one, my ears prick at the sound of her voice.
“Why would I know anything like that? My dad tells me nothing.”
Traffic comes to a standstill, and I hit the brakes.
“It’s interesting you immediately assumed your dad has the connection and not your mom.”
Silence fills the car again as her mind scrambles for the next excuse.
“My dad is better connected...”
Not a lie.
“...and my mom knows nothing about
technology...”
Also not a lie.
“...so assuming it was my dad would be a better bet...”
Half a lie.
“...but still I know nothing.”
Full lie.
She knows something, and the only reason I know that is because she’s no longer threatening to kill me for abducting her.
I’ll admit Ivy is a damn good dancer when it comes to dodging the truth, but she’s not as good as me.
Whatever she’s worried about is more important than the fact she’s currently being held down in the backseat of my car with a bag over her head as I drive us to an undisclosed location.
Actually, I’m just taking her to my house since Tanner banned me from his, but she doesn’t need to know that. The point is, she should be more concerned with being smuggled off somewhere and fighting that issue more than my question.
The fact that she’s not tells me everything I need to know.
We cross a bridge that leads away from the expensive suburban neighborhoods closer to the city, the storm that had been rolling in earlier even closer now. In the distance, thunder shakes the sky, a flash of lightning high up in the cloud layer cracking through the twilight.
Another fifteen minutes has me pulling down a private, tree-lined drive that leads to my house, the property surrounded by a thin ring of woods that gives it the appearance of seclusion. It’s not as flashy as Tanner’s house, Emily’s house, or even Ivy’s family home for that matter, but it gives me the privacy I crave on days I don’t feel like being seen.
Only the guys know I live here, the deed written in the name of a fake business I set up to ensure nobody can run a simple internet search and find me.
The chicken incident taught me well, but more than that is the need I feel to hide. A need nobody knows about.
Except Ivy.
Which is why it pains me that she exists.
We pull up to the house, a two-story Tudor-style mansion that looks like it was pulled from a page in history rather than built specific to my tastes.
Only the outside looks old. The inside is more modern with sleeks lines, ample natural lighting and a spectrum of grey color that is understated compared to the design of Tanner’s place.
Don’t ask me why the interior doesn’t match the exterior. I try not to think that it’s a representation of the man who owns it.