Chapter 3 #2
The harsh chemical smell burned my nose, and I clamped my mouth shut. Brooks was unhinged enough to actually pour it down my throat.
He released my hair and pinched my nose shut. My lungs burned as I thrashed against him.
“Decide, Cory,” he demanded.
“Brooks, man …” Cory backed up a step. “Just let her go.”
Cold plastic pressed against my shut lips.
If my choices are poison or suffocation, suffocation it is.
The closet started spinning as my fight weakened. But then I remembered how much I fucking hated him.
Spite is great motivation.
Then it happened. Liquid splashed my blazer. My hair. My fucking face. Cold dread punched through me as the chemical stench flooded my nose.
He actually fucking did it.
I shook my head, blinking back tears.
“Jesus, fine,” Cory spat, raising his palms. “She’s all yours. You fucking win, Byron.”
Brooks grinned like he’d just won his first presidency. “Stay away from her,” he warned Cory. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look in her fucking direction.” He twisted the cap back onto the bottle and gestured toward the door.
Cory cursed and walked out.
The second he disappeared, I bolted for the door. Brooks caught my wrist.
I jerked against him. “Let go of me.”
He tightened his grip. “You stay right here until I teach you your lesson.” He shoved me back, shut the door, and calmly turned the lock.
He rested his back against the door and crossed one ankle over the other like he had all the time in the world. “What’d Cory tell you before I came in?”
I mimicked his stance. “You mean, before you rudely interrupted like some jealous, deranged ex-boyfriend?”
He bit down on his gum hard enough that I heard it snap between his teeth.
I ripped a wad of brown paper towels from the dispenser and scrubbed the rat poison from my face.
“What. Did. He. Say?”
I tossed the paper towels into a trash can. “I don’t know. I was too busy undoing his pants to pay attention.”
He was across the closet before I could blink. I sucked in a shaky breath when my back hit the wall. His chest crowded mine, all heat and muscle under his dress shirt.
“If that’s the case …” His voice dropped, low and gravelly. “Feel free to do the same with me.”
He captured my hand and pressed my palm against the front of his slacks. I lost a breath. He was rock hard, every thick ridge pressing against my palm through his slacks. He dragged my hand up and down his cock.
I squeezed him hard, hoping it’d hurt him. He only groaned against my cheek and drove his hips into my palm.
Of course the twisted bastard gets off on pain.
I tried to rip my hand away, but Brooks trapped it under his, keeping my palm exactly where he wanted it. His other hand slid around my throat.
My swallow pressed against his palm. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t have to.
Message-fucking-received.
The rat poison was within arm’s reach. For a second, I considered smashing it over his head. I wasn’t stupid enough to do that. If I ever got lucky enough to poison him, I’d have to be sly about it. Pour it in his coffee or something.
Cinnamon clung to his breath, and damn him, I wanted a taste. His thumb moved once against the pulse jumping in my neck.
“Last chance,” he said. “What’d he tell you?”
I turned my head to look away from him.
“Keep testing my patience, and I’ll drown you in every chemical in this room, then sit back and watch you foam at the mouth.”
“He said he wanted me to be his Fawn.” I smiled sweetly.
Take that, asshole.
His gum stopped moving between his teeth, and he released my hand.
“Do you want to be his Fawn?” His voice went way too calm.
My smile didn’t drop. It only grew.
I couldn’t beat Brooks physically.
Couldn’t poison him.
But I knew exactly where to stab.
I cleared my throat before saying, “Yes, I want to be his Fawn.”
He slammed his palm against the wall beside my head, and I flinched.
“Why?” he snarled.
“So I can fuck his brains out.”
“Too fucking bad.” He skimmed his nose against mine, the touch too gentle for a man who’d almost poisoned me. “You’re mine to make miserable.” His lips brushed mine before his teeth caught my lower lip.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
“And trust me”—his teeth caught it again—“I fully intend to.”
“I can say no,” I choked out.
He caught my jaw, forcing me to meet those beautiful, soulless eyes. “That’s no longer a rule, Princess.” He drove his hips into mine.
I gasped as heat flooded my veins. He was even harder now.
“Get ready for me to ruin your life.” Brooks pressed his thumb against his bite on my lip.
It stung, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.
He smirked, as if he’d already claimed my soul. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I’d poured that rat poison down your throat.”
Thanks to Brooks’s psychotic janitor’s closet episode, I had to sprint back to my dorm and change.
That left me twenty minutes late to Media and Politics.
Taking political science classes was pointless now. Before my father’s arrest, I’d planned on a career in politics.
Now?
Who the hell knew.
But I wasn’t ready to let go of that dream yet.
The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, the room went quiet.
Professor Laurent stood at the front, repeatedly tapping his Apple Watch before pointing at the stack of late slips on his desk.
Yeah, yeah. I know.
He handed those things out like trust-fund kids handed out cocaine in Manhattan clubs.
I was convinced he only did it to impress Arisono because the two were definitely secretly hooking up. Which made me seriously question her taste in men. The man sported a curly mustache and scarves year-round.
I looked away from him and spotted Adelina waving me over. Laurent resumed his lecture as I hurried up the stairs.
I dropped into the empty seat beside her and shoved my bag under my chair.
She wrinkled her nose.
I couldn’t blame her. I probably smelled like a damn exterminator.
Adelina sat perfectly straight, exactly how her mother had raised her. The girl would never get tech neck. A gold Chanel clip held back her red hair.
“I’ve texted you, like, fifteen times,” she said. “You oversleep?”
“Something like that,” I grumbled.
“Did you miss me?” She’d gone to Martha’s Vineyard with her mom over the weekend.
“Of course. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Just kept looking out the window like a sad puppy, waiting for you to return.”
She patted my head like I was said sad puppy. “That’s my good best friend.”
“And for that, I’m finding a new bestie.”
“You’d never. You and I have too much history to ever give up on each other.”
My smile faded at the truth of that.
Adelina had been my first friend in the States. She’d stood by me when no one else had. And I’d repaid her by betraying her family.
If she ever found out, it’d be the end of our friendship.
She lowered her voice, pointing her glittery gel pen at me. “I heard you and my brother had quite the spat this weekend while I was gone.”
“Blair’s big mouth?”
“Nope. Brooks texted me a list of replacement best friends.”
“And you got us fighting from that text?”
“No, then I asked Blair, and she told me.” She capped her pen and tossed it to the side. “He’s such an asshole. I blocked him for two days, just so you know.”
“It should’ve been at least five.”
“That was my intention, but then I needed him to bring me Taco Bell. A chicken quesadilla was calling my name.”
“If you’d said a Crunchwrap, our friendship would be over.”
“Ugh, never.”
She turned back to her bright pink laptop, tapping away behind the privacy screen. I didn’t need to see it to know she was on her anonymous social media account.
I faced the front and gave listening to Laurent my best shot.
That lasted maybe thirty seconds.
Like every lecture hall here at Saint Vale, this one looked more like a cathedral. Stained glass stretched up one stone wall while crystal chandeliers hung overhead. The desks probably cost a small fortune and were still uncomfortable as hell.
Laurent’s lecture about the media’s powerful sway over politics faded into background noise.
I rubbed the tender spot on my lip where Brooks had bitten me before pressing my thumb against it while his words replayed in my brain.
“By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I’d poured that rat poison down your throat.”
Saint Vale’s dining hall looked more like a five-star restaurant than a university cafeteria.