Chapter 18 #2
“Sorry, Professor Riddle, but I promise this will only take a minute.” I stop in front of Scarlett’s desk and peer at her over the computer.
It takes everything I have not to slap her in her whole face, but I refrain from physical violence as I swing my bag around and awkwardly dig inside it for the tiny canvas.
I wing it at her. The picture lands with a soft thud on the desk.
Scarlett doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even so much as glance down at it.
“Lovely piece of art. Self-portrait?”
“You think this is a fucking joke?”
Scarlett lifts a single, manicured brow. “The only thing that’s a joke is your silly temper tantrum. Actually, no, I take that back. It’s actually embarrassing, Alice. If I were you, I’d be dying of shame.”
A few people snicker, but I stay focused on Scarlett.
I narrow my eyes on her and imagine what her severed head would look like.
“You’re trash, Scarlett. Doesn’t matter what family you come from or who your daddy is, because you’re garbage, scum, and that’s all you’ll ever be.
” I stab a finger at the canvas. “You pull this bullshit again, and I swear to God, next time, I hit back.”
“Miss Knightly, that’s enough!” the professor shouts.
Scarlett’s blood-red, cupid-bow lips lift in a slow, smooth grin. “Why, Alice, are you threatening me?”
“Damn right I am,” I hiss.
Scarlett tsks. “And in front of the entire class.” She presses her delicate hand to the breast of her vintage red dress. “How unsettling. Why, I’m practically terrified.”
“Leave right now or I’ll call security,” Professor Riddle warns me.
“Fuck with me again, and you’ll learn what being terrified really means. How’s that for a threat?” I sneer, not caring that everyone inside this room is watching us. Hanging on every word I say to her.
“Alice Knightly!” Professor Riddle rushes to his desk and lifts the receiver. “That’s it, I’m calling security.”
“I’m going,” I tell him, snatching the painting off the desk.
The audacity of this bitch. She waves at me. “Bye-bye, Alice,” Scarlett singsongs. I flip her the finger before spinning on my heels to march from the room. But then I hear, “It’s truly a spot-on likeness. The only thing missing is a bit more blood. You know, for effect.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I snap before pushing open the door. I slam it behind me, and once out in the hallway, I press my back against the oak-paneled wall and cover my face with my hands. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter into my palms.
I’m not a confrontational person by nature, but my God, it felt great to call Scarlett out on her bullshit—and to have done it so publicly.
She damn well deserved it. I’m done being docile.
Being silent. My father always encouraged me to stand up for myself, and I’ll be goddamned if I continue to allow Scarlett to run right over me without fighting back.
Grossly late for class, I decide to skip it.
Besides, my phone is blowing up. No doubt by now, the scene I pulled is making its way around Briar Rose.
Here, gossip spreads like wildfire. I’ll bet that most of the texts coming in at rapid-fire speed are from Maddox, and after trudging to my car, getting drenched from the rain, I see that all the messages are from Maddox and Ivory.
I reply first to my best friend’s last text.
Ivory: WTH happened?!?!?
Me: Your sister is a bitch. I’m going home
Ivory: Call me later!!
Me: I will
Ivory: U better!!!
Then I answer Maddox.
Me: Scarlett’s an asshole. Meet me in the maze
I hit send when the rap on the passenger’s window scares the life out of me.
Gasping, I fumble for my phone, the tension draining out of me when I see Maddox outside the car.
The top hat is under his arm, and the rest of him is soaked.
He slides inside when I unlock the doors and pulls his phone from his pocket.
He sets it on the dashboard, then runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his scowling face.
“What the hell happened?”
“Scarlett happened.” I dig in the bag and pull out the painting. “She left me a gift in my locker.”
Maddox places his hat beside his phone before taking the painting from me. “The fuck is this?”
“A stunning replica of Rook’s masterpiece.”
“Sonofabitch,” he mutters as he examines the chilling artwork. “This is what he painted?”
Nodding, I say, “Right down to that left eyeball hanging out of the socket.”
Maddox stares at the painting in silence for so long that the silence becomes uncomfortable. Long enough for the windows to fog and for me to start the car and turn on the air conditioning to dehumidify the air in here…
…and to cool it down from the furious heat radiating off Maddox’s body.
Finally—finally—he lowers the painting, and in the amber abyss of his eyes are twin flames of wrath. “Before, I wanted to kill the bastard quick. Get rid of him. Not make a huge mess. Now? I’m going to have so much fun torturing him.”
“I should be appalled,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t want you to do that.”
“Wouldn’t matter,” he declares, his tone harsh. “This is gonna happen with or without your blessing, Alice.”
I gaze down at my hands, wringing my fingers. “I know,” I whisper. When I lift my gaze to look back at him, I meet his unflinching stare. “And yet you have it anyway.” I swallow hard, pushing the lump in my throat to my gut. “He can’t be allowed to do what he did to me—or worse—to anyone else.”
“Trust me, Malice, by the time I’m done with him, he won’t be able to hurt anyone—ever.” Maddox leans toward me and cups my chin. He seals his oath with a kiss, and I know nothing—not Rook, Scarlett, or even my own demons—will ever hurt me as long as this man has even a single breath in his body.