Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
RYE
“I told you not to keep me waiting.” Leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, box of eclairs in my hand, her cheeks turn red when my eyes rake her frame.
I want her back on her knees. Or on top of me. Or bent over for me. But my sister and her unnecessary mourning make that impossible.
Moving into the kitchen, I’m careful about keeping my robe over my hard-on. As I pass Krystal, I take the knife from her hand and push it through our father’s face.
She looks up at me with glossy eyes and a crinkled forehead before my eyes land on the bottle of gin beside her. I don’t know if that’s a problem or not, but I haven’t seen her drink in years.
“This isn’t your fault.” Grabbing the bottle, I knock some back, hoping the bitter burn of gin softens the burn of seeing my dead father’s face.
It doesn’t.
“Mom didn’t even give him a funeral," Krystal says. "No memorial. No wake. Nothing." The air quiets as if we’re giving our father a moment of silence he doesn’t deserve.
Hannah’s words break it. “Do you really want to celebrate the life of someone who didn’t care about yours?”.
“Isn’t it healthy for us to do something?” Krystal presses.
A smirk starts on my face. “We’ll throw a party.”
“You would say that,” Hannah says. “But I thought we weren’t celebrating him.”
“Not him. His death.” Standing next to Hannah, my arm comes around her back, pulling her close.
My finger trails down to her thigh as her body falls against me.
This warmth, this body… it does something to me that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.
“Crimson. Sex. Filth. Everything its always been. No black attire. Red only.”
“You’re honouring your dead father with a sex party?” Hannah sounds unimpressed.
“It’s not about honouring him in the slightest. I just know he’d hate it.” He’d despise it. “Why not give the people more of what they want? And for us, it’ll be a good release.”
“That… would actually be kinda cool,” Krystal says, sitting up.
“Fuck tradition. Look how far that got us. We should mourn surrounded by people who don’t give a fuck that our father’s dead.
Ryung’s right, he doesn’t deserve honour.
” Her fist bangs on the concrete counter, then her face shifts, her eyes moving back to mine.
“But we can’t have a party without a statement, can we? ”
“The judge ruled self-defence,” I remind her. “We’ll keep it that way.”
“No press.” Krystal pushes the picture away from her, the dim light casting on her tired eyes. “The board can release a statement after the event. But for now, I think I need this.”
“We all do.” My hand slips to Hannah’s ass, giving it a pinch that makes her blush again. There’s something about making the Queen of Paradise Hill flustered that I’ll never tire of. “This time, you’re invited, Kitten.”
“No.” Hannah looks between us, my head whipping to hers. “I want to support you, but I don’t have time for a Crimson Party. I’m so far behind on studying, and I need to find a new internship ASAP.”
“Fuck that,” Krystal says. “You can be studious later. You have to be there. It’ll mean a lot to me, Han.”
Hannah stares at Krystal, her eyes beaming like a cartoon, and she even stammers a little. “It-it would?” Then she shakes her head. “May I remind you both that you took away internship opportunities from me? I need to fix that.”
Krystal shoots me a look as if this is all my fault. And… well, it kind of is.
Placing the box of eclairs on the counter, I take one out.
The chocolate-glazed one, decorated with handmade chocolate shavings from Belgium.
Her favourite. Hannah watches as I bring it to her lips.
When she looks up at me, the long pastry pointed to her mouth, it reminds me of exactly what I’ll be doing to her the minute I get her alone.
“Ew,” Krystal pipes up. “Guys!”
“Give us a second,” I say, my eyes completely zoned in on Hannah’s lips.
“Let me know when you two really want to talk about this.” She pushes the velvet stool back against the tile, covering her eyes as she exits the kitchen. “Which reminds me, this party will have boundaries.”
I’m too enthralled in how Hannah wraps her lips around the eclair to care. And I know this’ll help soften what I’m about to say. As she chews, her eyes roll back in her head as she lets out a moan, alerting my cock again. Should I be this jealous of this pastry?
“Listen, Krystal’s right.” I keep feeding her the eclair as I speak, trailing a finger down her soft cheek.
“I ruined your internship with my mother, and that’s on me.
So, how about we give you a stage?” I can feel the heat of her cheeks against my cold fingers before moving them down to her neck. “Use this as your runway.”
Her brows furrow as my fingers fall lower, trailing over her hardening nipples.
“You want me to have a fashion show at your next party?” Her breath hitches when I squeeze her nipple through that shirt, and I watch as she swallows what’s in her mouth.
My hand trails over the other, and before she can squeeze her legs, I put my knee between them. “Rye, I—”
“Are you questioning me?” My head sinks into her neck, taking in the blended smell of us.
Her perfume. The cologne on my shirt. And now I’m rock hard.
“I need you to trust me. You don’t deserve your future taken from you.
You don’t deserve to have to do extra credit to make up for what I caused.
Let me do the extra work. All you have to do is show your work. ”
“I took your world from you,” she says, her voice that soft tone she only reserves for me. I can’t fathom her having it for anyone else. “You don’t deserve that either.”
“Except, I do. If I have to spend the rest of my life making sure you know you deserve nothing but a bright future, I will. That starts now.” Dropping the rest of the eclair to the floor, I press my knee against her warm centre, a soft moan escaping her.
I walk my fingers to the knife in the photo, pulling it out.
“I took your big event away. I ruled with my parties. So join me.” Bringing the knife to her thigh, her breath shakes when the blade kisses her skin.
“Just show me you trust me. I know you do. I’ve felt it.
” My fingers travel between her legs. Hot.
Damp. “I won’t hurt you, and you know that, even though it scares you.
” Her eyes roll back when my fingers enter her, and I flip the blade, pressing the dull edge into her skin.
“She exhales in a way that sounds like relief when I push my fingers inside her, her wetness coating them. “Just say yes.”
This time, she hardly puts up a fight. “Yes.”
And fuck… I hope my sister knows we’ll need more than a second.
“Fuck!”
The minute I step out of the shower, something soft and silky drops over my head, and the world goes black.
I start to think I'm back at SOL before his scent takes over me. The one that makes my system both wild and calm.
“Trust me?” His voice lands in my ears, fire rushing through me. After a long day of lectures and trying to piece together some old notes with new information, all I’m in the mood for is a martini and a cuddle. But the way my body falls into him tells me that doesn’t matter right now.
“I do.”
“Good girl.” A smack to my ass gets me giggling as he steers me around the mansion. He’s careful, making sure I don’t bump into anything at all.
“Hello. Nice to see you too,” I tease. “How was your day?”
Swapping my castle in The Hill for the Rowen Estate has gotten us into a rhythm.
Classes during the day, with or without a cheeky hookup between, then back home for an evening sex-a-thon before sushi in bed.
Or movie marathons in the cinema with Krystal.
Or cram sessions with Ember in the study.
I'm starting to get comfy with life here, and I like it. It feels freeing to be able to roam the expansive home without an ear out for chaos or the expectation of a mood shift. I don’t need Sun House or galas or the Posse.
Right now, I only need him. Ember and Krystal are great, too.
“Okay, fine, let’s do cordialities,” he says, his grip tight on my shoulders as he swerves me around. “How was my day? Let's see, I it thinking about being so deep inside you, I don’t feel the need to exist anywhere else.”
Fucking, fuuuck. “What else?” I don’t hide the flirt in my voice or how bad I want him again.
It’s like a switch. A gasoline-filled cloth. Dry fucking wood. One little spark and I’m ready for our bodies to be smack together. The way I feel about him is kind of insane. Is this how my mother feels about my dad? Some impossible bond you can’t quite explain but crave like air and water?
“I touched myself to the thought of you climaxing on me, to the thought of you losing control all over me.” His words land against my cheek.
“Then I got word about this.” The sack lifts off my head, and when my eyes meet his, he smirks, tilting his chin straight ahead.
When I follow, I’m as floored as the first time.
“It’s all yours. Unless you decide to burn it down. ”
Michelle Nam’s home studio looks like it did before. Almost.
Gone are her fashion week posters and expensive fabrics, but everything else remains.
The mannequins. The sewing and drafting table.
The machines. Feeling like I’m in a Disney movie, I do a twirl, taking in my surroundings.
He’s got to be kidding. It’s one thing to have a home studio.
Money can buy that. It’s a whole other level of overwhelm when it’s Michelle Nam’s studio.
“Figured you’d need a place to prep your designs for the show,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. Right, the thing Rye convinced me of with his magic fingers.
“I thought if I agreed, I’d just do them at school.” I’ll be honest. The thought of designing a small collection in this studio is a dream. One I’m totally willing to live. But after burning it down, I don’t know if I deserve it.
“Now you don’t have to.” My eyes settle on his, hearing unsaid words. He wants me here. "Who the fuck knows when she’ll be back, so might as well make use of it. It still needs some renovating, but it shouldn’t impede your process. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You’ve already gotten me back into SBU,” I remind him.
“You said it would take much more than your favourite pastries.”
“Ryung Rowen, I’ve dated some impressive men.” Rye takes a step toward me when I say that. And in one swoop, he presses me against the wall. “But none of them have done anything this romantic.”
“Dated?” He gives me that intense look. But he doesn’t fight it.
After my last foray into The Hill’s dating pool, I never thought I’d be this freakin’ sprung for one of the most ineligible bachelors here.
Like, what a cliche. But with Rye, it just fits.
“Let’s be clear, I’m not the other fucks who came before me. But, Hannah, this was inevitable.”
“Okay, he talked me into it.” Krystal enters the room, chin held high. “I’m ready to be your first model.” She walks past us, standing on the wooden podium in the corner of the room. She places her hands on her hips like she spent all afternoon working up the nerve.
I laugh. “Actually, I think it’ll be good for Saint Bons to see you owning it.”
Rye wraps an arm around me, and even though his sister cut our convo short, I think I got the gist.
This was inevitable.
This would be a Hallmark movie if he weren’t whispering dirty things into my ear. Or his dick wasn’t hard against my ass. It makes it hard to keep my attention on Krystal, but something tells me that’s his plan.
“I welcome the encouragement, but it's misguided,” I tell them. “I’m going to need more than one model if this is going to work.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Rye pulls out his phone, not at all caring that I can see his screen. The ID says ‘Minion 1.' Is that Mac? Gray?
Ryung: you can come in now
“What’s happening?” Looking over at Krystal, she shrugs.
Before I turn to ask him again, Marisol, Chloe, and Zurie walk through the doors, all wearing red robes.
“I know some people who owe you," Rye says as they stand in front of Krystal in a row. Their heads hang like they’re ashamed of what happened over the semester. And that definitely brings a smile to my face.
Turning around to meet Rye, I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Your apologies are working.”
“I right my wrongs.”
A groan comes from the door next. “I didn’t know this was a Posse Party." Ember. “Hannah, I told you I don’t wanna join.”
Breaking my Rye-trance, I turn to her, blinking. “Then what are you doing here?”
Her eyes move to Rye. “Rye said you might want some help with darker designs?"
I slap his arm, but I’m actually happy she’s here. “I don’t need your help to be darker.” I spit back. “But I’m happy to show what I’m working on and to be honest, if I’m doing this—”
“Which you are,” Rye interrupts.
I move towards the door, ignoring him. “If I’m doing this, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
A smile spreads across Ember’s face. “Show me what you got.”
I tell the room to give me a second to fish out one of my sketchbooks. When I’m back, I lay out the plan. I have five pieces that I know will kill with the theme. It just needs a little tweaking.
It comes naturally to delegate tasks before taking measurements of all the girls.
Even Ember decides to model. Working with the posse again feels familiar, but different.
It’s like knowing how quickly they turned on me took away a lot of what I thought about them.
I thought they’d be by my side no matter what.
But looking at Rye, Ember, and Krystal tells me I no longer need them.
“Rowen and Alfonso are throwing a party together?” Mac’s chuckle comes from the door. "Never thought I'd see the day."
When my gaze moves to him, prepping a sassy response, my eyes land on something else instead. “What the fuck, Mac?”
A crimson casket sits in front of the door, shining under the lights with gold handles.
Mac shrugs. “Your boyfriend said you needed a statement piece.”
My attention shifts again.
Boyfriend.
That word hangs. Foreign and warm.
New, yet fitting.
Sublime.