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Her innocence should make me feel ashamed of the kind of thoughts I have about her.

But it only makes me want to corrupt her more.

It only makes me want to make her mine.

There’sa knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say.

Alaric steps inside and closes the door behind him. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Don’t,” I say.

He walks toward me and sets a bowl on the table.

“I brought you some ice cream.” He sits in front of my desk, propping his feet on the table. I expect him to ask me why I didn’t join them for dinner, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you,” I say.

“So I met your nanny,” he says. “You told me how crazy you were about her, but you didn’t tell me she was such a babe. I understand your predicament better now.”

For the first time in my life, I want to wrap my hands around my childhood friend’s neck and squeeze until he apologizes.

“Yeesh. She’s all yours, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want her,” I say.

“Clearly.”

“I found her reading Sera’s diary the other day,” I say. “She’s too fucking nosy.”

“And you placed spy cameras in her bedroom,” Alaric says. “I think that makes it even.”

“I’m never going to tell you things if you’re going to use them against me,” I say.

“You never told me about the spy cameras,” Alaric says, wagging his index finger in the air. “I learned about that all on my own.”

“Stop calling them spy cameras,” I say.

“What else am I supposed to call the cameras that you use to secretly stalk your nanny?”

“You call yourself my best friend. Aren’t you supposed to have my back no matter what?”

“Not when you’re being this stupid,” he says. “Now tell me. Did you remove the cameras like I asked you to?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?” he asks. “A lawsuit?”

“You don’t understand,” I say.

“Talk to me, then,” he says.

I look at him. He’s giving me a hard time about the security cameras, but I know he’s not a judgmental person. It’s one of the things I love about him.I could tell him that I killed someone, and he would give me a lectureafterhelping me bury the body.

“She makes me feel things,” I confess. “And I hate it.”

“Someone has a crush,” he singsongs. “But tell me something I don’t know.”