Page 31

twenty

Ryan’s urgency to play a game made me step up into the role he assigned me. I have a feeling it has something to do with the secret he always keeps behind his eyes, the one I suspect leads to freedom. He calls me his partner-in-crime, but I’ve yet to know if he can be mine .

Some girls dream of flowered wallpaper, diamonds, and rooftop proposals. I wanted a reason to wake up that didn’t involve wedding registries. Freedom. Not from love , but from being controlled by my Viscount.

A deep-seated fear took root when I decided to pledge Greek Life here at NU that I’d get stuck with a man who would force me into a life of garden parties and women’s clubs. My choice in major, Criminal Justice, was so that I could study power and who has it. Who lost it. And why…

And how to never end up caged by someone else’s decisions again.

I know I’ll be appointed, eventually. But maybe, if I get lucky, it will be to someone who sees me as more than a breeding contract to fulfill the god’s desires. Maybe I’ll be able to work. To do something. To still have a life that’s not reduced to white linens and legacy fucks.

Light giggles bubble up from my belly at everything the fat cat senator says while pretending not to notice his lecherous eyes dangling over my figure. Fortunately, there don’t seem to be any more young women in the crowd, but I get the feeling everyone needs protection from him.

I want this man in the ground.

Ryan abandoned me to entertain the wife, and part of me wonders if he’s doing something that would make me hate him. Mainly, though, I’m instilled with confidence. When he left me alone, his fierce, knowing eyes gave me a distinct message: he knows I can take care of myself.

No one ever treats me that way. No one has, except him.

My purple gown floats behind me as Senator Frances twirls us to the soft music coming from the live quartet in the corner.

The gleaming blond parquet floor makes my new high heels squeak, my feet groaning for true dance shoes.

I follow his lead carefully in his hold—he’s not as nimble as Mitch—but a plastered smile remains on my face, despite his disgusting whispers.

“I heard you were on the cheerleading squad, too. Tell me more about that,” he says, licking up saliva from his bottom lip. Whenever he speaks, his gullet shakes and my gut churns.

“ Love the football team at our school,” I lie, remembering that I don’t actually know where Alice attends. “They are so amazing!”

“And are you on the sidelines in a tiny uniform?”

Ugh… gross. “Yep! In a little skirt and bloomers.” Leaning in, I continue with a lowered voice. “But sometimes I lose my bottoms…”

His fingers rub against my lower back as we stride through another couple, who give us an approving nod.

What is wrong with these people? “Oh, sweetie. That’s okay.

It can happen.” Whispering, he lowers his lips to my forehead.

“If you ever find them, you could give them to your friend Senator Frances, couldn’t you? ”

The urge to vomit on his expensive shoes is overwhelming. “You’d want them? That’s so weird!” As slyly as possible, I dart my eyes around the room, looking for Ryan. He’s not back yet. How long do I need to entertain this old creep?

“Sure, I would. Just don’t tell your parents. We can make it our secret. Can you keep a secret?”

Not even paying attention to him, I nod and hum an affirmative answer, scanning the crowd again. My heart beats faster, worried about what’s taking him so long with the wife…

Okay, maybe I was being too cool before. Is he with her? He said he was loyal. Is that true?

Rough caresses on my shoulder draw me to the dance I’m forced into as Kier Frances strokes some of my hair. “Of course, in this state, you’re old enough to marry whoever you want with your parents’ approval,” he says while gripping my waist tighter to him.

“I am?” Suddenly, I get a wicked idea, and I’m curious if this is what Ryan had in mind.

“Yes, sweetie. Why, you could even be with a man like me. Powerful and rich. Would you like that? Do you think you could convince your parents?”

Fluttering my lashes, I don a kittenish expression to lure him into his next mistake. “You want to what to me? I’m not understanding.”

He leans forward so he’s close to my face, then murmurs, “I want to lick your sweet, young pussy. Would you like that?”

“I-I’m not sure. I’ve never done that with someone. Do you want me to do something to you?”

“Sweetie, have you ever put your lips on a dick before?”

“N-no. I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Oh, but I think you would. It’s just like licking a lollipop. How about we venture out to the patio… Care to join me?”

His large body presses close to mine, and I think about breaking one of his fingers, but insistent hands interrupt us, holding two pink-colored drinks between our chests.

“Sorry, sir. I looked for your wife, but she disappeared on me. Here’s her drink, though.” Ryan’s smile could only be described as star winning .

Senator Frances takes one startled step back, but hurriedly puts on a masked pleasant face and accepts the small glass. Ryan then grabs it again and shoves it at me.

“Oops! That one doesn’t contain alcohol. It’s for my underage sister.” Is it me, or is he talking very loudly? Other people near us seem to take notice of what’s going on in the middle of the dance floor and lean in to hear more. “Here, this one is your wife’s, well, yours now. Cheers!”

Ryan takes the sweaty double from me, clinks it to the senator’s, and tosses his back, then shoves the glass into Kier’s empty hand. Kier mimics him with his full drink to be polite, but it’s obvious the man feels as if the interruption was rude.

In a whirlwind of motion, Ryan grips my waist and swirls me around. It’s stilted, but the basic steps are there. And accurate. His hold is solid and steady. “I’ll dance with my sister,” he tells the senator, spinning us in front of the other political couples.

“How did you learn to waltz?”

His demeanor is easy, smooth. He’s happy , and the look he gives me reminds me of what Amelia said in the cafe that day. The way Ryan looks at me makes me feel powerful.

“Self-taught.”

“And when was this teaching?”

Blue eyes hit the ceiling as he holds back a smile. “Oh, a few weeks ago.”

“Since you met me?”

That alluring light in his eyes dazzles me as he lowers his gaze to my face. “Yes, pink cheeks. Since I met you.”

My breath catches, and for a moment, I can’t look away from him. His admission warms me until the emotion filling my soul makes my eyes tingle with tears.

He pulls me in tighter, then leans us into a deep dip, following my face with his. Hovering just over my lips, he glances at them only a moment, as if giving me an allowance to say no. But I don’t.

His taste is familiar now, comforting in a way, but still filled with fire.

He’s letting me know this is just an appetizer.

More is coming, and I best be prepared for it.

The urgency of his tongue sweeping against mine draws me into a battle.

Ryan likes to play. So my fingers delve around his neck and grip his hair there as we make out in front of the crowd of people surrounding us.

I’m dizzy and intoxicated by his scent, his presence. Even when he sets us upright and looks into my eyes for a good minute, I still need help maintaining my balance. My hands cling to his tuxedo jacket like a lifeline.

“Fuck! My sister knows how to kiss,” he yells to the crowd, who murmur whispered judgments throughout the room. My cheeks heat, but it’s more reflex than shame. I’m getting used to his chaos. Ryan smirks at me, slides his hand down my arm, grabs my fingers, and leads me from the room.

A commotion breaks out that has my steps faltering.

“No, come on. We need to go,” Ryan says, pulling on me with urgency.

As we exit into the hall, I look over my shoulder, where the senator stumbles backwards while clutching his chest. The audience retreats to give him space.

“He’s choking!”

“Is there a doctor?”

“We need a doctor!”

Quickening my pace, I follow Ryan as he guides me down a dark hallway, toward a bright red exit sign.

Once his hand shoves on the metal door at the end, his limousine waits for us in the alley next to the civic center.

Exhaust fumes choke my lungs. The driver holds the door open for us, and we scramble inside.

Feeling panicked, I gather my dress bottom and stuff it between my legs.

Ryan slides in after me, then leans forward to grab a chilled bottle on ice and a glass. “Champagne?”

“Ryan, what just happened?”

With a sizzle, he pours the golden liquid into the flute, then hands it to me before serving one up for himself. Like a trophy, he holds it high in the air, then clears his throat as the car turns onto Main Street.

“I propose a toast. To our first crime together, partner. Well done.”

Unable to form words in return, my eyes widen, and I slowly inhale, but he clinks his crystal against mine, slurping it down with a toss of his head. Taking a deep breath, I do the same.

With a peek at the raised divider, I whisper, “Is the senator okay?”

An ambulance whizzes past us on the way toward the building we just left.

Ryan mutters something, then pulls out his phone, opening an app I’ve never seen before. It takes a minute, but shaky camera footage comes on the screen, and he holds it for me to see.

The entirety of our evening was filmed, as if shot from the angle of my breast. When I glance down, I remember his fraternity pin, which still clings to the site where he attached it on my organza lapel. “A camera. It recorded everything.”

His eyes blink slowly as he searches my face, as if he’s seeking approval. How deep did his plan go?

Everything the senator said tonight is right there on the phone. All his nasty words about what he wanted to do to me and all the acts he asked me to do to him. Things he said to his colleagues jokingly, but disgustingly. It’s all on film, and I was an unknowing participant in the activities.

When another screaming siren wails past us, I turn in the seat to follow it out the back window, then swivel to Ryan for an answer.

Shrugging, he gives an almost silent chuckle. “I think the man had a heart condition and shouldn’t have been drinking so much.” His eyes lift to meet mine with a look so pleading, I nearly unravel.

Swallowing, I ask, “And his wife, too?”

One of his long fingers snakes under my palm before he holds my hand in his lap. His warmth bleeds into my skin, taming the tension wound tight inside me. A serious expression takes over as he presses his warm lips to my temple. “She tried to touch what’s yours.”

Despite the knowledge that this man just murdered two people, I somehow feel safer in his presence. Safer than with my father. Maybe even more so.

When Ryan said he’d kill everyone that stands in our way, I understand now.

He meant every word.

Like he’s my own slayer, my personal demon, a transformation happens deep within me. The tip of my tongue escapes as I think for a moment, considering this man in front of me as a fluttering sensation moves through my chest.

With deft hands, he undoes the camera stuck to my dress and kneels between my legs. From his side pocket, he produces the real jeweled Theta Rho Zeta pin and replaces it, all while his eyes never leave my face.

One of his hands caresses my jaw, stroking it slowly as he leans in, our faces so close I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of latching onto my mouth, he just holds there with his lips parted, breathing in my exhaled air.

That shift in my countenance? It’s power.

I was right. He told me the punchline to the joke.

I’m free when I’m with Ryan Cardell. I get to be me .

So I move in the rest of the way and press my lips to his, battling it out with our open mouths, caressing each other as equals.