Page 96 of Filthy Little Pretties

“Well, you only have yourself to blame. I tried to warn you at lunch today. She’s out of your league.”

I gently but intentionally remove her finger from my chest and let her hand drop to the side. She shakes her head with an expression of disgust. “Wise up. Donovan can smell your fear, Grey. And nobody likes a desperate bitch.”

Bending slightly, I make sure she hears me as I grit my words out into her face.

“You’re high. And in no place to give advice. Go to bed before I decide to hold you accountable for the liberties you’re taking.”

I begin to turn away, but Caroline grips my forearm, tugging me back toward her and digging her nails in.

“Must I do everything myself? Listen to me or you’re going to go down in a spectacular show of flames.”

My eyes dart to my arm and back to her face.

“You’re so sure? That I’ll lose? That’s unlikely, little step-whore.” My voice is laced with amusement, but the look in Caroline’s eyes is determined and worried. I don’t like it. At all. Something’s up. “What happened tonight to make you so worried?”

Her hold loosens, but she keeps her gaze fixed on me. It’s the way she straightens her shoulders, like she’s prepping for war, that tells me I’m right—something did happen tonight.

“Don’t worry about tonight. Your problem started eighteen years ago. But I can help you, if you let me. I care about you, Grey.”

Jesus. She managed that with a straight face. Laughter cracks my chest, before I pull my arm from her grip.

“Bullshit altruism—that’s a new low for you. Cut the shit. You’re bathed in an ulterior motive. Since when do you give a shit about anything or anyone I do? Why the interest now, Caroline?”

A smile plays at my lips as I say the words because I can see through her. My eyes are locked on hers, reading all the thoughts she’s trying to hide as I tilt my head because that tiny seed she’s trying to plant didn’t get past me. The only eighteen-year problem I could have is Liam.

She lets me go and gives a small, slow, malevolent-feeling shrug, accompanied by a fraudulent smile. “Let’s just say that I have an interest in you getting what you want.”

“Because of Liam?”

Caroline’s eyes narrow, but I smile bigger. It’s never been a secret to me—I could always tell that she had an interest in him, even if he’s oblivious. But she’s a vicious little snake, and I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.

“Doesn’t matter. Do you want me to help or not?”

Her voice is sharp and nasty. I love it when I hit a nerve.

“Not.”

Her head pulls back, and she takes a step backward, throwing her arms up and letting them fall just as hard. “Then you don’t really love her because if you did, nothing would stop you. Not even taking advice from me.”

Two hard breaths leave my body like an empty laugh before I follow her as she walks into her room. “Don’t talk about shit you could never understand. You have to possess the ability to love to advise on it.”

Caroline raises her brows over her shoulder, as if I’m the pot and she’s the kettle.

“I know how to love her. That’s enough.”

She shakes her head before walking to her vanity, and I plant myself just inside the doorway, leaning back against the bedroom wall, steeped in morbid curiosity over what I don’t know yet. Caroline begins to take off her earrings, dropping them into a small pearled jewelry box.

“You don’t know how to love her. Trust me. And you’re too arrogant to see that you’re failing.”

“Enlighten me, General. What would you have me do differently to win the war?”

Caroline’s head twists toward me. “Is she or isn’t she your fucking soul mate?”

“She is.”

“Then if you want her so bad, make her think you don’t. Imprison her in jealousy, and let her fucking rot with all her dumbass principles.”

My instinct is to put Caroline in her place over how nasty she’s being toward Donovan, but my shoulders tense from the wariness I’m beginning to feel. Why is Caroline out for blood? This is more than worry from her—she feels threatened.