Chapter Twenty-Six
Lily
? “Underneath It All (ft. Lady Shaw)” - No Doubt ?
Have you ever had a woman come to your house, set up a station, and give you a pedicure in your living room? I bet not. This is the type of thing you get done when you’re wealthy and entitled. I watch as the lady paints my toes black. “Do you do this a lot?”
“Put GPS chips in women’s pedicures? No.”
Her attitude reminds me of Roxxie, always responding with a short, angry tone, which makes things so incredibly awkward. The nail tech has bleach blonde hair cut into a bob, and light hazel eyes. She’s gorgeous but her attitude stinks.
I grab the phone that Jace gave me. I never don’t have it on me, checking it every ten minutes to see if he’s texted me.
Especially after his insane confession of wanting to be with me every day.
It sent an unknown emotion swirling through my body.
I don’t know if it’s fight or flight. I shake my head and give in to text him.
Me:
Who hired her? She is kinda mean?
Not a Sexy Irishman:
Rowan.
I laugh when his name pops up. Jace’s contact in my personal phone is “Sexy Irishman,” so I figured putting “Not a Sexy Irishman” in this phone was fitting.
Me:
Well, that makes sense. Rowan has the personality of a warthog. She is definitely the type of woman he would hire.
Not a Sexy Irishman:
And how do you know what a warthog’s personality is?
Me:
All warthogs do is huff and run. The same thing Rowan did to Celeste when he dropped her back off at our
doorstep after Italy.
Not a Sexy Irishman:
Got jokes, álainn?
If there was a camera in the house right now, I’m sure I look so stupid staring and smiling at my phone like a little teenage girl.
Not a Sexy Irishman:
It’s on. I can see your location.
The more days that have passed, the more nervous I get. This sick feeling in the pit of my stomach... The “what ifs” lingering in my brain like sticky little worms...
“You’re all done.”
I look down at my pedicure. It looks completely normal, and not like I have a tiny GPS tracker in my left big toe. “Thank you, I—” When I look up, she is already heading toward the front door.
Okay then.
I lie back down on the couch, staring at Jace’s last message.
Me:
How do you think he is going to do it?
“Kidnap you? Or propose to you?”
I jump up to see Jace standing in my bedroom door frame. “Jesus Christ, how did you get in?”
He shrugs his shoulders, walking toward me. He picks up my legs and throws them over his thighs as he sits down. “How do I think he is going to do what?” he asks again.
“Propose. I don’t think I want to know the kidnapping part.” I wince.
His hands roam over my feet, slightly threading my arches. “I’m sure it will be public. He wants the attention.”
I grab one of my throw pillows, covering my face with it. I would rather die gagging on my own throw-up than have a public proposal. Everyone clapping for you, congratulating you... It’s a form of attention I’d rather not have.
I throw the pillow off me. “What if Celeste finds out?” She will murder me for not telling her.
“She won’t. Rowan is keeping her busy.” Jace winks at me, showing his bright, cutting smile.
I grab the pillow off the floor and throw it at his head.
We break out into a wrestling match when he jumps on top of me, pinning down my arms. I’m laughing and screaming as his cold hands run against my skin, trying to find all my ticklish spots.
Someone please hide the cameras. I’m acting like a teenager in her first relationship.
Our bodies freeze when my doorbell rings, and the house becomes eerily silent as Jace and I stare at each other. I kick Jace off me, running to the door, and look out the peephole to see Mateo standing outside. I run back down the hallway, mouthing to Jace, “It’s Mateo.”
Jace calmly gets off the couch and walks into my bedroom, as if this could not affect everything. I walk back to the door, straighten my shirt, pat down my hair, wipe my clammy hands along my shorts.
“Hey, Mateo.”
He leans in, giving me a kiss on both of my cheeks. I try not to gag at the action and put a smile on my face as he leans back.
“What was all that noise?” His eyebrows pinch together as he looks beyond his glasses. Glasses that I once thought cute, but now all I see is a fucking devil in disguise.
“Sorry, I must have had the TV volume too high if you could hear it from out there.” I laugh to hide behind my lie.
“You going to invite me in?”
No. No. No. God, no. I don’t want you in my fucking house, or my fucking life. And I hope you die a terrible, painful death with Icy Hot shoved up your asshole.
I move my body to the side, letting him in.
“Babe. How long have you been living here? You should have told me this is what you go through.” His eyes wander throughout my living room.
My gaze mimics his, looking at the leather sofa that, yeah, may have gone through some rough patches, and the coffee table that me and Celeste bought from a thrift store and broke on the subway back home.
Our TV stand is a cubicle I'm sure is meant for shoes. But it’s home.
My home. Mine and Celeste’s home. I have memories here and I’m proud of it. So how dare he judge?
“It’s not all bad.” I jump onto the couch, tucking my legs under me. I wish I could shove his balls back up his stomach. If I meet his mother and father at the wedding, I want to tell them what a horrible child they have raised, and they should be embarrassed.
Who am I kidding? He obviously got his personality from someone. I watch as he carefully sits down at the edge of my couch like he might catch a disease if he gets too comfortable.
“Right... So, I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner tonight?”
Like a dog, my ears perk up at the sound of two taps from my bedroom wall.
Oh god, is Jace still here? If Mateo decides to be noisy, we will be so fucked.
Plan over. But Mateo obviously didn’t hear since he is still staring at me with the fakest smile I have ever seen.
His upper lip twitches when we don’t break eye contact.
I really thought I knew how to read people but boy, was I wrong.
And my theory about psychopaths was right—the true psychopaths pretend to be nice to you before they murder you.
The crazy people who just show you they are psycho from the beginning are just “normal” people.
Humans. With human emotions. Ever since Jace told me the truth about Mateo, I see right through him.
Memories of us in the subway resurface like pictures floating through my head. The nights at the club where I would sit and talk to him... All of it was a front.
“Actually, I’m sorry. I have to get a head start on the school syllabus.”
He nods as he stands from the couch, his hand rubbing my arm and creating goosebumps along my skin.
And not the good kind of goosebumps. It’s the kind you get when you want to shake off the invisible bug you have crawling on you.
The goosebumps you get when you see something so sickening you want to rip your skin off your bones.
“No worries. I am so proud of you, babe. You work so hard."
I might need muscle relaxers after holding this smile for so long.
His face leans closer to mine. His eyes roam to my lips before coming back to my eyes.
My heart rate picks up and my fingers start to twitch.
Fuck, he is about to kiss me. If I twitch or lean back, it will destroy everything.
My heart is pounding against my chest, begging my sternum to open so it can hop away.
Mateo stops when we hear a car alarm going off. He turns his head, and I let out the breath I was holding deep in my chest.
“That sounds like mine.” He takes off toward my front door and I follow right behind him.
Jace, please don’t be out here.
Parked in front of my house is Mateo’s BMW with a brick in the rear window.
Mateo pulls his keys out of his pocket and turns off the alarm.
“Son of a bitch!” he yells, picking up the brick and throwing it into the distance.
“I’m getting you out of this neighborhood.
It’s not safe.” He points at me before getting into his car and driving away.
I run inside, closing the door behind me, and let my head fall back against it. My hand is plastered to my chest, feeling my heart beating a mile a minute.
“Sorry. I couldn’t let it happen tonight.”
I look down my hallway to see Jace standing there. The light from my living room shining behind him, highlighting every portion of his body. A demigod. A fucking demigod.
My demigod.
“A brick?” I chuckle.
He walks toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. “He’s lucky I didn’t throw one at his face.” He grabs the nape of my neck, pressing his lips against mine, and picks me up to walk us back toward the couch.