Chapter 26
It’s days later when Bianca walks through her front door, dropping a duffle bag on the floor unceremoniously. She’s wearing leggings that hug her shapely legs and a long shirt on top. Her scarlet hair is cut into a fashionable bob and Kara stares, blinking.
“What did you do to your hair?” It’s the only thing Kara can think of saying and it comes out as a croak. This is an unexpected visit.
The redhead gives her a strange look and shuts the door behind her, locking it. “My hair? Who cares about my hair, what did you do to your face? Have you been crying?”
Yes.
Kara rubs at her face, “No. I didn’t realize you were coming over.”
Her oldest friend gives her a suspicious look. “You’ve been ignoring my texts and I’m beginning to wonder what’s going on with you.”
Hackles raising, getting defensive immediately, Kara flashes her eyes at her. “Nothing is going on with me.” Aside from my whole life blowing up in my face.
With a suspicious look, Bianca goes to rummage about in her kitchen. Kara frowns, rubbing at her eyes. “What the hell are you looking for?”
“The alcohol,” Bianca replies waspishly.
“I don’t have any.”
“Bullshit. What’s this then?” Her friend is holding up an empty bottle of vodka, pulled from her recycling basket. Bianca’s eyes are narrowed in betrayal. “You told me you weren’t doing this at home alone!”
Well, shit.
Kara’s lips form a stern line. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Not as bad as it looks? Not as bad as it looks? How long have you been doing this? You’ve been acting odd for weeks!” Bianca tosses it back in the bin, where it clatters loudly. More bottles. “I wanted to come over and hash it out, but now I think we just need a ‘come to Jesus’ moment here, what with all your lying and avoiding. Here I just thought you were mad at me for something stupid.”
Being called a liar sparks something in Kara and she stands up sharply. “Since when have you ever cared? You’re the one who loves going out all the time; I’m just along for the ride. I’m just your wing woman so you can find your next fix. You’re selfish and live in your own damn world. You’ve never cared about my fucking problems .”
Pointing a finger at her, Bianca flushes with emotion. “You are an absolute bitch when you drink like this. Remember when you were twenty-three? When you were picking fights in bars? I remember . I remember you at the bottom of that spiral.” Her hands settle to her sides and she looks lost. “You stand here, acting all self-righteous when I’m the one who helped you! I’m the one who stopped drinking when you went cold turkey for weeks to cool your head. I’m the one who supported you when you thought you were ready to start drinking again. I may be a selfish bitch, but don’t tell me I never cared.”
A flash of black and red drifts over her vision and Kara finds herself picking up the closest thing she can find on the table beside her. She wants to break Bianca’s face, wants to make her shut up, she doesn’t want to hear this anymore…
“You throw that stupid lotion at me and I’m going to brain you,” Bianca threatens, though a bit of fear is now in her eyes.
Kara sees it and wilts guiltily.
“You don’t even know how to fight,” Kara replies, the red clearing from her vision slowly, realizing what she had been about to do. She sighs, throwing the lotion down the hall as an outlet for her anger with a snarl. Then, she sinks to the floor again, exhausted at herself.
She digs her nails into her scalp, eager for the pain.
She’s becoming a monster again. All the self-loathing that’s been building inside of her for weeks boils in her stomach, painful, acidic.
Hesitantly, Bianca comes over to her and crouches beside her, hand gently moving through Kara’s hair, snagging on a curl awkwardly. “Talk. What’s happened?”
“My father has been calling. He wants me back.” Saying the words aloud make them that much worse in Kara’s head.
“Shit. Maybe you do need a drink,” Bianca mutters.
“And…” Kara hesitates, not sure how much she wants to share, because she’s embarrassed of herself for being so foolish. “There’s this guy. That I’ve been…I don’t…we’re not even together…”
“A guy? What guy? He messed you up this bad? He’s bad news if that’s the case, Kara. No one makes you like this; no one .” Bianca sounds disbelieving, knowing Kara’s track record of having short affairs and leaving. Or being left for being so awful to handle.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
Bianca plays with Kara’s hair, clearly missing her own long hair to play with now that it’s charmingly bobbed. “If he makes you feel this terrible, he’s no better than your father. Forget him.”
“Easy for you to say. I work with him.” She wants to forget his mouth. She wants to forget the way he makes her feel.
“Oh, my God. You hit it with your married boss? You skank!”
Flabbergasted, Kara nearly laughs through the numbness that has overtaken her. “No. Someone else.”
Placing both hands on the side of Kara’s face, Bianca forces her to look her in the eye. “Hey. Have you been drinking tonight. Open.”
Kara blows on her face and Bianca wrinkles her nose in distaste even though she smells no alcohol. “You gross woman. Seems you have some control left. How about this, considering you’re sad and hurting. Be my date tonight. No men. NO MEN. No alcohol. Just water or some sad little soda. Lots of dancing. I’ll stay over and cuddle you all night. I’ll spoon you if that’s what you dig, girl. Capisce?”
Sighing dramatically, Kara feels depression dragging her down. She’s not in the mood. She wants to stay in and just wallow in misery. Bianca gently slaps her cheek a bit, saying, “No, no. No sad face. When you wallow, you drink. We can’t let you wallow. Forget your problems. You love dancing.”
Not entirely convinced, Kara says skeptically, “So, you’ll take me home tonight. Cuddle me like a nice, sweet boyfriend should?”
“Oh, yeah bitch. You got it.”
Kara feels a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. She can’t help it; Bianca is good at this. She’d forgotten that, only seeing the worst aspects of her these past few years. It’s been ages since she’s had a spiral this bad, but Bianca is right; she was there for the last one.
“You’re so crazy,” Kara replies softly.
“I have to be, to deal with your ass all these years. I may not be the best friend out there, but I’m the one who knows how to deal with you,” Bianca replies. “I’m not perfect. I’ve let you down before. I know that.”
There’s a pause and Kara rests her head on Bianca’s shoulder. “You intend to go out wearing a large t-shirt and leggings? You’re daring.”
With a smirk, Bianca points to her abandoned duffle bag. “Hell no. I always come prepared. Come on. I need to fix that tear stained face.”
“Why? It will scare the boys away. Isn’t that the point?”
Bianca laughs, picking Kara up off the floor. She turns the stereo on dramatically and does a little twirl, pointing at Kara and crooking her fingers at her. “Come on, girl, don’t be shy.”
Kara doesn’t even hear her phone beep with a text from Nick.
It’s Friday.
They go to one of their old favorites. A place that once passed as an upscale martini lounge that morphed into an upscale tiki style nightclub. The place has plenty of fun drinks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, allowing for patrons of all sorts to come happily enjoy the atmosphere.
Bianca chooses it for that very reason. They can order fun drinks without the liquor and still go dancing on the mysterious dancefloor. Tiki jungle décor crawls over the walls and the ceilings, making everything seem mystical.
It’s fun, but as always, Kara misses the slightly fuzzy feeling that alcohol gives her, the pleasant numbness. She wants to order something with a kick in it, but knows that Bianca is right; she’s starting a spiral downward and Bianca doesn’t even know the worst of what Kara’s been doing.
She wouldn’t understand the sick games she’s been playing with Nick. Maybe no one can understand the way it reminded her of her father, made it almost tangible that perhaps if this vicious man could have some sort of affection for her, maybe her emotionally bankrupt father could too.
Kara is leaving the second level bar, looking to bring a new drink to Bianca, who is waiting for her by the dance floor. Balancing her drink and Bianca’s, Kara nearly walks straight into someone. Strong, athletic fingers settle on her shoulders, keeping her at bay. “Well, look who it is. Kara.” A familiar, smooth voice.
Kara looks up, feeling her heart skip a beat, her throat clenching. Oh . She feels herself flush as she stares up into pale green eyes. Sharp, cruel lips that have the capability of smiling oh so stunningly. “Dieter. I…ah…shit. Didn’t spill on you, did I?” All she knows is that she doesn’t want to be responsible for his dry cleaning bill.
What does she say to him? Last time Kara saw him, Dietrich had been quite put out that she hadn’t played into his hands the way he wanted. Her mind is racing and she hasn’t even been drinking.
He’s got a woman on either side, dressed to the nines in outfits and hair styles that say money money money. Their statures scream runway model and Kara suddenly realizes that’s exactly what the women probably are. They are looking at her like she’s last night’s leftovers. Bad leftovers.
“How about you watch where you’re going?” A brunette on his side snaps at her, pumped-up lips pouted in a not-so-pretty fashion.
“Mindy,” Dietrich says in an uninterested tone, his sharp features blank. He doesn’t take his eyes from Kara’s face. “Shut your mouth. Kara here is a…friend of mine. Be fucking pleasant.”
Somehow, he makes ‘fucking’ sound like a nice, acceptable word.
The two statuesque women give Kara suspicious, competitive looks at his words. Kara wishes he hadn’t called her a friend. They aren’t really friends. Acquaintances suits her just fine.
“Look at you,” the tall raven haired one says in a deceptively sweet voice, only ruined by the look in her eyes. “Sort of cute for a little hobbit, aren’t you?”
Both of the women are easily reaching the six-foot mark, what with their legs that go for miles and their high heels. Kara finds it interesting that Dietrich isn’t bothered by their height; both women are taller than him. Not that he’s short, no, he still has at least six inches on Kara, but these chicks are tall . Swans in human form. With fake tits.
Not that it matters what I think; I can’t stand his ass and he clearly likes women who tower over him. Must be a leg man.
Trying to keep herself from losing her temper with the chick who called her a hobbit, Kara settles for gritting her teeth and saying with an unpleasant smile, “I’m glad you think so. Is the weather different up where you exist, by chance?”
Dietrich snorts, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The raven-haired woman frowns, as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle. Then, she glares, as if realizing that Kara is calling her a giant.
Kara wants to ask if the chick would like to go outside and duke it out, but that tends to go over the wrong way. Actually, it never leads to anything good. Kara has lived that life, back when she lived far out of the city reach, back in high school when people would have kegs out in the cornfields. She’d show up to drink away her misery, but things often ended up with her scuffling with the prom queen.
“Come sit with us,” Dietrich says, though it doesn’t sound like much of a command. A casual ask, more like. “I’ve got bottle service.”
“I’m here with a friend actually,” Kara replies quickly.
One of his eyebrows quirks. “A boyfriend?”
“A friend .”
“Bring her with then, I don’t care.” The gorgeous women on either side of him huff in irritation and saunter back towards where their bottle service table must be, leaving Dietrich alone with Kara. His eyes go half-lidded and his gaze darkens. Kara feels her mouth go dry, so she takes a hesitant sip from her goofy little Shirley Temple. It’s tasty, sweet.
His gaze crawls up the shape of her body. When he settles for looking her in the eye, he tilts his head slightly. “I’ve missed seeing you, chickadee. Don’t keep me waiting.” He says it with a sneer, almost sarcastic.
It wasn’t meant to be endearing in the slightest.
With that, he turns and goes back to his section, sitting down between the two models, smiling blandly at them, watching them melt in his presence. Kara rolls her eyes, making her way back to where she knows Bianca is eagerly waiting for her.
Once she reaches Bianca’s side again, just a little past the dance floor, Kara leans against her casually. Bianca’s body is warm, feminine. “Sorry about that.”
“Sure, you are. I have eyes, you know. He’s gorgeous,” Bianca says loudly into Kara’s ear, trying to be heard over the music on the dance floor. “It’s almost a shame we are both off men tonight. Otherwise…”
Kara rolls her eyes. “Did you miss the fashion models hanging off his arms? Good luck. They both want to eat me alive.”
“Don’t make me laugh. You may be shorter, but you are mean . That’s gotta count for something, my itchy bitchy,” Bianca replies. Her delicate eyebrows quirk. “You seemed to know him. Got that starstruck look on your face, not that I blame you. From where?”
Tipping her nose in his direction, Kara drawls, “That’s Dietrich Bittinger.”
Bianca gasps, pale eyes widening in shock. “As in, the rich heir turned executive? Doesn’t he like, buy up other companies or something? Some big banking stuff too?” Whipping out her phone, Bianca types his name into a search engine. He comes up rather quickly, a professional photo showcasing his confident presence and intense gaze.
Kara leans over, peering at his birthdate, feeling like a creep. He’s only thirty-five.
Scrolling through his public profile, Bianca clicks on a name that jumps out to her. “His mother was a famous runway model, she traveled internationally for it. Wow, wow. Just look at her. She made millions .” Bianca gives Kara a curious frown. “How do you know him, know him ? He’s not the guy-”
Kara shakes her head instantly. “Oh, no. He’s not. They’re…friends. Kinda.”
“Shit, girl.” Bianca takes a big gulp from her concoction of ginger ale, lemonade, and grenadine. She twirls the fruity umbrella stick out of the top. “What have you been getting up to these days, seriously?”
What indeed. The music is uplifting and being out of her lonesome apartment helps carry her above the slime of wallowing in self-hate. Kara feels sick, thinking of Nick and his casual corruption in the courtroom. She’d known he was capable, but not towards her.
Not only that, it just hadn’t felt right, in that hotel.
Eyeballing the handsome blonde in the VIP section, Kara says idly, “You know, he invited us over to sit with them.”
Bianca’s head turns to stare at her, mouth agape. “What are we waiting for? I want to meet a filthy rich man for once.”
Shaking her head, Kara says, “I’d rather not, actually. He’s not nice and he’s got a temper to boot.”
“Oh, he sounds like he’s right up your alley.”
“B, fuck you. His temper is scarier than mine.”
Poking Kara with her paper umbrella, Bianca winks. “Time to try something new. It could be like Fight Club or something. Just think; the one guy you wouldn’t be able to scare off, because he’s as awful as you!”
“Yeah, well, what if he scares me off?”
“Impossible.” Bianca smirks. “Are we going over or no?”
Shaking her head vehemently, Kara pulls her closer on the dancefloor, “No.”
Though she sighs with disappointment, a sound almost lost in the bass, Bianca allows Kara to pull her onto the dancefloor for the next few songs.
“He’s scowling over here,” Bianca giggles into Kara’s ear, pressing against her in a way meant to be provocative.
“Boo hoo for him. He’s a spoiled brat. Seriously .”
“You’re an idiot. He clearly wants you to sit next to him instead of the bitch that’s trying to snag his dick under the table. Oh, look, he’s telling her off now.”
Swaying to the beat, Kara rolls her eyes, unsympathetic. “B, beautiful women grope that man all the time . He’s perfectly fine.”
“Sounds like sexual harassment to me.” Bianca spins Kara around so that she can see the table in question, arms wrapping around Kara’s waist from behind. “You should save him.”
She’s not going to save Dietrich Bittinger from casual molestation. Growling in frustration, Kara disengages from her friend. “I’m getting some air on the upstairs patio. Are you coming?”
“Nah.” Bianca wiggles her empty glass. “I’m going to get in line at the bar. Takes forever here, ugh . I need to double fist these tasty things. I think I want a virgin Pina Colada.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll find you at the bar.” Feeling flustered for reasons she can’t quite understand, Kara takes the stairs to go up to the top deck, the stifling heat from the dancefloor overpowering. The night air is lovely, like a drink in the desert.
Fire pits are spread out, groups of people smoking. Kara ignores them all and goes straight to the railing, spreading her arms out to stare at the cityscape in front of her, glittering lights, honking horns, the sounds of nightclubs beating in the undercurrent.
Within minutes, she’s actually cold, the night air dipping. Kara shivers, about to turn and go back down into the hot club when someone warm presses against her back, shielding her from the chilly night breeze. Kara tenses.
“Don’t get all nervous, it’s just me,” Dietrich says flatly.
“Now I’m really nervous.”
His body is draped behind hers like a wall, his hands on the rails just on the outside of hers. “You like to play hard to get, don’t you?” His mouth is by her ear and Kara shivers, though not from the cold.
Kara grins at the slightly put out tone in his voice. “Maybe I just like making sure you don’t get your way so easily.”
His body is warm behind hers, solid. “Then, you should know; I’m into that shit. Maybe you should stop while you’re ahead, chickadee.” His words shift her hair slightly and Kara feels electricity run up her spine.
“I thought you enjoyed having women falling all over you? You certainly have no shortage of that from the looks of it.”
“Fucking one of those women is like getting a participation trophy; it takes so little effort and the sense of accomplishment is a fat zero. I’m a sportsman; I like a challenge.” One of his hands makes its way to her upper back, pushing her forward slightly, threatening. “But there’s a difference in being hard to get and being insulting.”
Kara feels her throat tighten in momentary fear. He could knock her right over the edge. It isn’t like he’s not capable; she’s seen him do it before. There’s a certain dangerous power to him; Dietrich Bittinger can get away with just about anything he wants.
And, Kara is no one.
Feeling the strength in his hand, Kara shakily says, “Please, let me turn around.”
His hand relaxes pressure on her spine, sliding away as he takes a step back from her. Kara lets out a shaky breath, her fingers briefly tightening on the railing before she turns to face him. Pale, lovely hair, and sharp, stunning eyes. He’s so handsome it’s almost painful for Kara to look at him.
Dietrich’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks her over with an almost bored expression, as if he hadn’t just threatened to knock her over the railing. “Gale says you’ve been declining to come out on the boat again. Why?”
Kara looks away sharply. “That’s what this is about? Jesus. I just didn’t want to.”
“That’s the least convincing answer I’ve ever heard. Try again.”
Kara meets his green gaze again, firelight behind his back, almost giving him a halo. Maybe I don’t trust myself with you. Her mouth twists in discomfort, feeling pinned in place. “I’ve been busy.”
He rolls his eyes with a vicious air of irritation.
Taking in a mental deep breath, Kara finds herself saying words to calm him, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
He stills, peridot eyes flickering with city lights. Then, he says, “Are you willing to play ball?”
Swallowing thickly, Kara whispers, “Yes.”
The scent of him washes over her. Clean, fresh. Crisp apple, mint. The scent of champagne, sharp. His lips brush her ear as he suddenly leans into her space. Kara feels like she’s going to die, her heart is racing so fast from his proximity. “Meet me for brunch tomorrow,” he says smugly. “You can tell me all your woes, chickadee.”
She nods, feeling an edge of danger inside of her.
He sneers, the curl of his lip that reminds her of a wolf. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I like when we get along.”
Later, when she leaves to go home with Bianca, she ponders over the fact that she has his number in her cell phone and it makes her feel like she’s lost some sort of battle.
The next morning, she finds him easily enough at the ritzy brunch café. He’s seated by the window, a perfect ray of sunlight hitting him just so. He looks like an angel, just sitting there, like he knows everyone is gaping at him. Pristine, face serious and smooth, like he’s expecting someone to pop out of the ground and start making a portrait of him.
When Kara sits down across from him, his eyes flicker over her with what may or may not be feigned disinterest. He’s double fisting an espresso and a Bloody Mary. Kara finds it rather extreme, like a match made in heaven for acid reflux.
“What do you want to drink?” He pushes the brunch menu at Kara. “The bloody’s are pretty strong.” He gestures for a waitress to come over. The young woman looks less than perky when she notices Kara.
“I’d like an orange juice and a coffee, please.” Kara says, though she’d love a mimosa.
“You got it,” the woman says, her eyes flickering back to Dietrich with a hint of yearning. Good grief.
Silence falls over the table. Dietrich leans back in his seat, his left arm hanging over the empty chair next to him. His watch glitters in the sunlight, the same light that makes his hair seem ablaze. He’s waiting for Kara to speak it seems, as he’s in no rush to ease the awkward silence that Kara is painfully aware of.
Looking out the window, biting her lower lip, Kara comments, “You once told me that…you were the sort of friend people needed. Am I right in assuming you’ll help in return for something that benefits you?”
Without flinching, he adds more hot sauce to his bloody. With the calm of a lion watching its prey, he slowly pulls a pepper off the skewer of his drink and bites into it, swallowing. He chases it with his espresso.
He frowns as he sits back in his chair, catching the expression on her face. “Why do you look so scandalized? You look like I just performed some demonic ritual.”
The thing with the pepper and the espresso may have put a weird expression on her face. “Did you hear anything I said to you?”
“Are you asking for my help?” He asks it with a certain amount of glee, barely concealed in his glittering eyes. He leans forward, cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you.”
The rat bastard. Always enjoying her discomfort. She’s not sure if it would have been easier to speak to him about this if he didn’t look like such a treat all the damn time. Embarrassment colors her next words.
“My father is being investigated for embezzlement.”
One elegant eyebrow arches, translating into an expression of ‘so what?’. “My condolences. That’s an unglamorous thorn in anyone’s ass. Do you need a shoulder to cry on? I can imagine Nick is out for the count on that note, he’s not sympathetic of tears. Not that I am either, but I can pretend .”
Gritting her teeth, Kara leans forward to whisper towards him, not wanting all the neighboring tables to hear what she’s about to say. “The thing is, Dieter , my father never had good credit. My mother is dead, has been dead for a decade.”
The arch to his eyebrow smooths as his eyelids go half-lidded. Kara has come to know this as his expression of calculation. That smooth tone of his goes flat, “You’re kidding. You didn’t.”
Grimly, Kara grabs at her coffee and sips from it. “I did.”
Dietrich’s peridot eyes harden in disbelief. “Never co-sign with someone who has bad credit! Has no one taught you anything? God, someone needs to take you in hand and save you.” He considers thoughtfully. “Is that a tax write off, do you think? Saving people from themselves? It’s like charity, I’m sure.”
He’s unbelievable and Kara wants to shake him until he starts taking her seriously. “I needed him out of my life and signing on his mortgage and a few of his other expenditures seemed worth the price. Originally .”
Dietrich sneers, somehow still looking painfully handsome. Kara occasionally sees people seated around them looking at him, their eyes catching on his baby soft hair and his stunning eyes. He stands out wherever he is and Kara’s just not used to that. “No good deed goes unpunished, chickadee.” He’s all business now, the flat, empty expression settling into his gaze firmly. “What is it you are looking to ask me?”
Here it is. The moment she sells herself to him. Signs her damn death warrant. “He asked for me to represent him, pro bono. I can’t. I can’t afford to do that. Not only that, I’m not experienced enough to mitigate the outcome.”
“Did he do it?” A low, dark utterance. Almost cruelly amused at her dilemma.
Laughing bitterly, Kara sniffs, staring down at the table. “I have no doubt.”
“Shame. I’m surprised he’d commit such an act, knowing his daughter could be on the hook for his debts. It’s almost like he doesn’t care about you.” He says it mockingly, with no small amount of laughter in his tone.
Kara feels ill. Her stomach turns and a vague feeling of sadness crawls over her like a tarantula.
Dietrich leans forward, frowning. His voice goes empty. “He doesn’t care about you.”
Glaring, Kara hisses, “Want to say that any louder?”
His head tilts slightly as he studies her. “I think I get it now.”
“You get what ? Stop circling me with your fucking words.”
The corner of Dietrich’s mouth twitches slightly. “The ‘Nick’ thing.”
Face hardening, Kara says darkly, “I don’t want to talk about him right now. Can you help me or not?”
“Of course, I can. But, by the end of this, you’re going to start getting your ass logged on my account. I grow bored with Gale lining her bank account with my money. You’re new, interesting. You can be trained to be exactly as I want you and eventually you’ll be able to quit your fucking job working for that…ignoramus Benson.”
She wants to tell him not to insult her boss, but it doesn’t seem worth it. Kara feels like throwing herself in a hole and never returning to the surface. Like wallowing in her despair. “You got what you wanted after all. Me, under your thumb. Though, I don’t understand why.”
Now he laughs, though not nicely. “You think I want to control you? Chickadee, I control everything . I don’t need to hire you to have you under my thumb. Don’t delude yourself, it’s undignified. No, I want you on my account mostly to watch Nicholas squirm.”
Just…to watch Nick squirm? Horror drifts over Kara as she realizes she’s played right into his hand. He didn’t want her for merit or for anything special he’s seen in her. No. Dietrich Bittinger wants her just to piss off his frenemy, Nicholas Havenwood-Calais.
“You…are a horrid brat,” Kara utters the words furiously, feeling heat rise to her dark eyes. The realization stings.
Smirking tightly, Dietrich cracks his neck, the act starting to reveal itself as a habit for hiding immense pleasure over something. “Don’t take it personally. I’m going to help you, in more ways than one. If you do well as an associate to Gale on my account and prove yourself trustworthy, I’ll give you more. You’ll never find a more lucrative account than mine in your life. It’s win win for you, chickadee.” Grinning like a jack o’ lantern on Halloween, Dietrich says, “Well played!”
Despair falls over her. She’s going to eventually have to stop working a Derrick’s firm because of this. Instead of working for a reputable man, she’s traded herself over to a scheming monster that sees everyone as toys.
“Oh, come on, Kara. Smile. I’m making you a very lucky girl,” Dietrich says, his voice echoing strangely into her ears.
It sounds like the ocean is crashing over her.
And, just like that, Kara gets the distinct impression that she’s made a deal with the devil. Even if he saves her from her father, he’ll end up putting her in a different prison with bars made from the bones of his dead morality.
“Oh. One last thing.” There’s something wicked in his eyes and it makes Kara feel cornered. “I want you to go to an event with me. I need a date that’s not going to be trying to find my wallet in my crotch the entire evening. I know you think I’m a pig, so you’re the perfect choice.”
Kara feels her heart drop. “The party at Calais, Vickers, and Yates? Gale told me about it.”
He smirks. “Nicholas didn’t tell you about it, did he?”
I don’t like that smirk. What is he smirking like that for?
“No. He didn’t.”
Those pale eyes pierce through her heart. “I hate to be the one to break it to you- no, that’s a lie. I’m thrilled. He probably didn’t tell you about it, because he’s bringing someone else.”
Kara’s stomach turns and she feels bile rush up her throat. Her world tilts sickly. “Excuse me? What is this? Are you trying to start trouble?”
“No, I’m trying to smack you in the face with the obvious. He’s bringing his fiancée and I want to bring you as my date just to cheese him the fuck off.” He smiles widely, that big white smile that makes panties wet. “He’s going to be so mad .”
Her mind goes blank. Then red. “His what?! ”