by Lily White
What’s also surprising is that neither of them have figured out yet that they’re secretly into each other. The entire school sees it clearly. But if you were to ask Ivy or Gabe, they would swear it’s only hatred they feel.
Ivy isn’t one to hide, though.
Just as Gabe approaches his locker, she pushes past the crowd around us to ensure she’s front and center for whatever is about to happen. And when it does, she’ll be the person Gabe seeks out because he always knows it’s her.
“Oh, fuck,” Ava laughs, both of us moving past the small crowd to stand next to Ivy. “What has she done now?”
Laughing at something Tanner said, Gabriel’s green eyes slide Ivy’s direction for only a second before he dismisses the sight of her.
He should know better by now, should suspect that if she’s waiting patiently nearby, his day is about to get a hell of a lot worse.
Still, it’s not Gabe that steals my attention right now.
Already I’m flicking secretive glances at the two boys behind him, my gaze skating down one of the twins before riding up the other. I can’t make heads or tails of them, but then one set of amber eyes seeks me out, the intensity of that stare teasing my pulse to go faster, my heart a fluttering bird in my chest.
Ezra.
It has to be him.
So absorbed by him, I miss what happens that causes the entire hallway to burst out in laughter.
Gabriel is cursing up a storm, already threatening Ivy by the time I can drag my attention to his locker to see something shiny and wet spilled out, the puddle so slick that Gabriel is sliding around in it.
He attempts to get up but only falls back down, everybody laughing so hard they’re holding their stomachs and leaking tears from their eyes.
Even Tanner can’t control his laughter, yet Ivy stands solemn among the crowd, her blue eyes locked on Gabe with only the faintest smirk curling her lips at the corners.
“She is so dead for this,” Ava says beside me. “What the hell did Ivy put in his locker?”
“Sex lube,” Gabriel Carter says at our back. “That’s why it’s so slippery.”
Most of the time, I don’t even want to know how Ivy manages to pull off the pranks she sets up. What I do know is she spends a fortune on them. But that’s not a problem when she has her own unlimited credit card that her father pays off with no questions asked.
Despite how entertaining it is to watch Gabriel struggle, so much so that the only option is for Tanner to grab his hand and slide him away from the mess, my eyes still dance back to one particular person who smirks in my direction.
There’s an offer and a warning in the way he looks at me now, his head angling toward the bathrooms, just enough so nobody but me will notice it.
Cocking his brow, Ezra grins again before walking off with the silent invitation for me to follow.
I shouldn’t.
He’s trouble with a capital T.
All of the Inferno boys are, but especially the twins. There isn’t a day when one of them shows up clear of the scrapes and bruises they wear, proud markers of the fights they always start and always win.
My fingers tighten over the strap of my bag, indecision cementing my body in place.
I watch with unblinking eyes as Ezra walks down to hall to slam a hand against the bathroom door, his gaze flicking my direction once more before he disappears inside.
Around me, everybody is still focused on Gabriel and Ivy. Not even Shane or Damon noticed that Ezra walked away, and I could simply slip through the crowd and follow without a single person noticing.
My pulse pounds harder as my teeth chew the inside of my lip.
I shouldn’t.
But I find myself sneaking around all the people gathered around me anyway.
Quiet as a church mouse, I walk down the hall, my head angled down and my red hair covering my face.
When I reach the bathroom door, I have another moment of indecision, just a few seconds where I can rethink what I’m doing and remember every reason it’s a bad idea.
This is stupid.
I can’t do this.
I don’t even make it one step away before the door pulls open and a hand locks over my bicep. I’m dragged sideways with one hard tug, the door closing again as my back hits Ezra’s chest.
“You were going the wrong way.”
Trembling at the whisper against my ear and the way his fingertips brush my neck when he moves my hair aside, I close my eyes and summon the will to walk away.
“Probably because being here with you is the dumbest thing I can do.”
He laughs, the sound soft and dark, mocking me in a way that sets my nerves on edge while lighting all the girlish parts inside of me on fire.
“That’s not what you said yesterday. Or the day before that.”
There’s always a distinct growl to his voice, a rough quality like someone had taken sandpaper to his words to scrape up the edges.
He turns me around and dips his head to capture my eyes with his. He always does this...traps me before I can regain my senses enough to run away.
Fingers soft against my chin, he tilts my face to his and I stare wide-eyed at the green flecks in his amber stare.
The problem is I have no idea who I’m staring at. It could be Ezra. It could be Damon. I could be part of the typical game they play without ever knowing it.
“Who are you?”
It’s the same question I always ask.
He answers it with a mischievous grin. “Does it matter?”
To most girls, the answer to that question is a resounding no. All of them clamber to be with one of the Inferno. I’ve always found it ridiculous on their parts. Pathetic, really. So, while it wouldn’t matter to most which twin they end up with for a few hours, to me it does.
“Yes.”
Confusion rolls through his eyes for a split second, there and gone with one blink of his eyes.
“Ezra.”
“You promise?”
His feet move slowly as he walks me back to a wall, my bag falling off my shoulder as his body cages me in place.
Dipping his head again, his eyes remain locked to mine as his teeth nip at my bottom lip, an electric spark shooting through my body at the contact.
“Why do you even care? You have one of us.”
A shaky breath rolls over my lips and it feels like he’s stealing it from my lungs as his mouth slants against mine, a quick lick of his tongue across my lips before it dips inside my mouth to taste the frayed edges of my nerves and the chaotic thrum of my pulse.
I shouldn’t be scared.
More excited.
More turned on.
But still my fingers curl into my palms, the nails indenting the skin.
Strong fingertips scrape up the outside of my thighs. The hem of my pleated skirt lifts with the punishing pressure of his aggressive fingers.
I have to flatten my palms against the heavy, grey fabric to hold it down.
A grin against my lips, those amber eyes flicking open to trap mine again. “Something wrong?”
“I’m supposed to marry Mason.”
There it is, the truth that hangs around my neck like a noose.
He blinks, his body going so still that it makes me nervous to be standing here.
Ezra is a live wire that can snap at a moment’s notice. He’s like an attack dog that gives no warning before going for the throat. Everybody eyes him and Damon warily because you never know what might set them off.
I don’t think he’d actually hurt me, but after seeing him fight, it’s difficult not to remember just how quickly he can go from easy and carefree to heart stopping in his violence.
“Do you want to marry Mason?”
I laugh at that. “No.”
He grins. “Are you married to him now?”
I shake my head, a lump in my throat preventing me from answering again.
“So, what’s the problem?”
There shouldn’t be one.
It’s just unfair that my entire life has been planned for me already.
Being promised to Mason is like having a chain attached to my leg. I can’t think of my future without considering him. I can’t have a career. I can’t care about college or a degree, knowing I’ll never use it. I can’t fall in love without knowing it will never lead to anything.
My destiny has already been written as the wife of a man propped up by a trust fund.
I’ll be a jewel.
An ornament.
A pet to be pampered and nothing else.
That’s who I am.
I can’t have secret trysts with dangerous men. Can’t fantasize about darker desires that are too scandalous to discuss in polite society.
And Ezra is everything the good little girls are warned about.
“We’re just having fun,” he reminds me, his finger twisting a loose strand of my hair that hangs down by my face. “I already told you that.”
Just fun.
Nothing serious.
The bell rings and I shove away from him to grab my bag.
“I have to go.”
Ezra threads his fingers with mine when I try to step away, his eyes shimmering with humor.
“You can’t run far. I know you want this.”
Yanking my hand from his, I duck my head and leave the bathroom without answering.
Because how can I answer?
Especially when he’s not wrong.
CHAPTER TWO
Emily
A knock at my door barely grabs my attention. It’s a gentle rap of knuckles that does little to breach the ground-shaking thump of bass in my room, a quick tap that I wouldn’t have heard if I wasn’t standing next to the door when it happens.
Blowing out a heavy breath because I can’t find the shoes I want in the pile haphazardly tossed on one side of my closet, I slam my hand on the knob of the door, twist and yank it open.
My mother’s blue-green eyes stare back at me, her face so pale I swear I can trace the line of small veins beneath her skin. I get my coloring from her. My red hair, alabaster complexion, and turquoise gaze, but beyond that, we’re nothing alike.
She’s meek and mild, never stepping out of line, while I have a fiery temper that nobody guesses about until I’m angry enough for it to explode.
Like now.
I have places to be and I’m already late. Plus, my mother never comes into the children’s wing except to check on my eight-year-old brother, and even then, it’s only for a few minutes until she leaves him with the nannies again to go wait hand and foot on my father.
“What?”
She winces at the snap in my voice but then regains her composure, her hands fluttering like butterflies, her lips stretching into a thin line.
“I need to talk to you about a rumor spreading among the families.”
Damn it...
I open the door wider to let her through.
Turning my back to her to keep searching for the silver sandals that will match my white Grecian style dress perfectly, I groan to hear the volume on my stereo lower and the faint squeak of mattress springs when she sits on the side of my bed.
“I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re promised to Mason Strom.”
Bile shoots up my throat to soak the back of my tongue. Not because Mason isn’t beautiful. The opposite happens to be true. He’s too beautiful to be fair.
All of the Inferno is, really, and I have to wonder about the odds that nine boys who grew up together could all have such fortunate genetics.
It’s not Mason himself that makes me sick, it’s the idea that I have no choice in the matter when it comes to who I’ll marry. I’m not even entirely sure why the marriage is so important to my family and his.
The Stroms are old money. Wealthier than even Gabriel and Tanner’s families. But they’re not as powerful. Not the center of it all when it comes to the social circle I was born into. I often think that my father believes combining this family with the Stroms will somehow center more influence for him and knock Warbucks off the top.
I feel like an object more than a human being every time I’m gently reminded to whom I belong.
Not that Mason wants me either.
Being forced together has only made us hate each other.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, relief dripping down my shoulders when I finally spot my shoes poking out from under the bed. Snatching them, I sit down to pull them on.
“There are whispers that you’ve been acting inappropriately with the Cross twins.”
My head wrenches her direction. “Where did you hear that?”
She’s not wrong. I messed around with Ezra for a few days, but after running away from him in the bathroom at school, I’ve dodged him. That boy is the most decadent of desserts, one who can be sliced open only for poison to leak out of the center.
How much I want him can’t matter. I’m not dumb enough to lap the poison up just to die on the inside when it’s over.
Ezra kept pursuing me over the next few days after that incident, but then school let out for the weekend and when he returned, his knuckles were busted and his face bruised.
Both Damon and Ezra looked like they’d fought an entire biker gang, their tempers so easily triggered over the past week that everybody has avoided them.
Jackson Porter made the stupid mistake of saying something about it. He left the school with three missing teeth, a few busted ribs and a broken ankle.
As far as the story goes, he tripped and fell down the stairs. But we all know what really happened.
Even if Ezra is at the party tonight, there’s no way I’ll go near him. Not after that reminder.
My mother’s expression doesn’t change. It’s the typical haughty elegance, a required distance between her and anything real in the world. She has children but didn’t raise them. She’s eaten food but never truly tasted it. She preens and polishes everything with a strict adherence to a prim and proper reputation.
The same is expected of me.
“It shouldn’t matter where I received the information, just that I don’t appreciate what the information is. You are to remain chaste, Emily-“
“Oh, drop it, Mom. I have been chaste. I haven’t had a boyfriend, haven’t had sex, haven’t let anybody touch me, just like you’ve demanded. Although, I think it’s unfair considering Mason runs around and does whatever he wants with whoever he wants and nobody says a thing about it.”
Not that I care.
The last thing I’ll ever feel for Mason is jealousy.
“He’s a boy,” she insists, her voice a whisper because even to her it sounds wrong. “You know how it is.”
Before I have the chance to remind my mother what century it is, my phone vibrates from the bedside table. A quick glance at the screen tells me it’s time to go.
“Ivy and Ava are here.”
She’s says nothing as I push to my feet and cross the room. Before I can walk through the door fully, she speaks at my back.
“Keep your legs closed, Emily.”
My eyes roll so hard I can see the back of my skull.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ten minutes later and we’re on the road. Ava is driving and Ivy is riding shotgun. I don’t mind having the entire backseat to myself. It gives me the ability to focus on the trees passing by instead of their excited conversation.
It isn’t until Ava says my name and lifts her eyes to the rearview mirror that I blink and snap out of my thoughts.
“Did you hear anything we just said?”
Not a word of it.
While they were discussing the latest school gossip and planning the rounds they will make at the party tonight, I was imagining what my future would look like as Mrs. Mason Strom.
We won’t be officially engaged until graduating college, which gives us another ten years before I have his ring on my finger. But that just means I have to behave like a modest, appropriate future wife while h
e gets to be the playboy.
Again, not that I care.
Mason could fuck every willing hole on the planet - both male and female - and it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.
I just hate the idea that every day is one step closer to the grand finale of my life as Emily Donahue. I can’t even be excited about giving up my last name up, or choose not to like some wives do.
Our engagement will be my funeral and I decide right here and now that I’ll wear black on that night to mourn the loss of my identity instead of white like I’m sure my mother is planning.
“She wasn’t listening,” Ivy answers when I don’t. “Which means I have to repeat myself and say that one of the twins was just seen making out with Hillary Cornish. Can you believe that shit? She’s a walking STD factory.”
I know what she’s doing and it won’t work.
Ever since finding out I had a few weak moments with Ezra, these two have been all but tying me up and dropping me on his doorstep.
Ava was against the idea at first, but Ivy came out of left field with the opinion that having a secret fling with him would be good for me.
Ivy knows I can’t fall in love. And when you can’t fall in love, your heart can’t be broken. Ava knows it too, but she wasn’t immediately convinced I can have a few months of fun without developing feelings.
Blue eyes meet mine.
“Wouldn’t you like to know which twin it was?”
“I don’t care,” I lie.
And it is a lie. Just the thought of Ezra with someone else is trapping my stomach in vicious claws, talons tearing at the flesh.
If anything, this feeling is only a confirmation that I need to keep my distance. I’ve only kissed Ezra a handful of times and already my heart is dragged into the mix.
Maybe it’s because I’m chaste that I feel like this. And by chaste, I mean so desperate and bothered to be like all the other girls that I feel naive and vulnerable when it comes to boys.
I’m not allowed to date.
I’m not allowed to know any boys.
Unless of course, that boy is Mason Strom.
Every dance in my life has been with him, a perpetual, unwanted date to the cotillions in our youth, plus every homecoming in high school.
We stand stiffly beside each other for all the photos, our mothers cooing at how great we look together, our fathers drinking scotch and smoking cigars.