Page 27 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Augustus

“Your precious toy took the car.”

I glance up at Maverick after he strolls into the den room in the basement. I arch one brow expectantly.

“After stubbornly refusing it twice,” he elaborates with an amused tilt of his lips. “Though her outfit screams she most likely stole it rather than owns it.”

She’ll have to take care of the attention she draws to herself. And she’ll have to think of a way without returning the car to me, which I’m certain she’s plotting to do at the first chance. Too bad, she won’t get it.

Plus, I’ve put a tracker in the car so I know where she is at all times.

With the cameras I put in her house, everywhere she goes in this town is a cage for her and I’m the emperor with the key.

My gaze follows Maverick as he walks over to the couch and slumps down on it.

“What about her outfit?”

“It looked cheap and bought from a thrift store.”

While I was at her house, I didn’t venture into the closet and the only clothes I’ve seen her in are her nightwear, which she loves to wear as minimum as possible. Half the time I give her clothes just a cursory glance because I’m far more interested in tearing them off her.

Now, I’m second-guessing if I should’ve. Because if Maverick is right, money is obviously tight for her. As someone who prides himself on being detail-oriented, I sure missed something important about Nessa.

I guess I’ll have to fight the urge to ruin more of her clothes. No more ripping or slicing them with knives.

Or I could buy her an entirely new wardrobe.

Motherfucker. First the car, now a wardrobe. I’m losing my senses over this tiny wisp of a woman. Why else will I be suddenly thinking of ways to spoil her?

Because of last night .

I’m not her boyfriend, nor do I want to be.

All I want to do is ruin her.

“Since when does your ass know about women’s fashion?” I snap at Maverick. It’s the bastard’s fault for the tunnel of thoughts I ventured into a second ago.

“Since I started fucking my father’s company’s COO and one of her favorite pastimes is getting railed in dressing rooms,” he shares with a dirty glint in his eye.

“Never a good idea fucking a married woman, Sinclair.”

“Neither is terrorizing your teacher,” he shoots back and scoffs. “Pot meet kettle, Grayson. Besides, what man doesn’t want to nail a hot older woman? Have you not seen her fat tits?”

I have at one of the many galas I attended with my family where I ran into her. While something is enticing about big tits, they pale in comparison to thesoft and sweet tits of Nessa.

The way they perfectly fit in my palms makes my cock swell. After tasting her pale pink nipples and the little whimpers that she lets loose when I suckle on them, they’ve become my favorite. They’ll look even prettier when I mark them with hickeys.

“Your dad’s going to have your ass when he finds out after you cause a blunder.”

He stretches his arm on the back of the couch and shrugs. “She’ll get fired. Nothing more.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Speaking of warnings, it’s stupid giving gifts to a woman who fucked you over.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “Her little complaint to Crane did nothing. As for the car, it was collecting dust in the garage. Now, it’ll have some use.”

“I also think she has a crush on you.” He snickers, refusing to let the topic of Nessa go.

The reason I sent him to drop the SUV was to distance myself from her. It’s bad enough she’s on my mind constantly. I don’t need to be talking about her with my best friend like a bunch of middle-grade schoolgirls.

Still, I find myself asking, “Why do you say that?”

I’ve done nothing but stalk, threaten, and blackmail the woman, I’d hardly say she has a crush on me. Venom spills from her eyes every time she sees me before I tame her into submission.

“Did Scarlett not tell you the assignment she gave the class yesterday?”

I drop the stick on the pool table I’m standing against. It sends one of the balls skidding into a hole. “No, she didn’t.”

“Essay on masked men.”

It’s the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth, making my brows almost rise to my hairline. A smirk threatens to take over my lips.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

When I had her phone for a night, I was able to hack it. Once I saw the familiar app, I checked the history and smirked at the videos she had saved.

No woman in this day and age is a stranger to masked men and bikers. After all, I’ve made a fortune off of it. My side business, though I only see it as a hobby, will be at itspeak this month.

My little prey is in the same rabbit hole of lusting after strange men in masks. Though she hides the truth behind her innocent facade. Her feed was filled with them.

So, when I saw her in my class, I knew she was my perfect match.

The perfect muse I was searching for. I vowed to give her the taste of the forbidden.

To make the reels become her reality and fulfill her darkest fantasies that she’s too scared to admit to herself.

Probably kept them locked somewhere in her mind.

I will coax them out one by one and replace them with newer, gritter, and kinkier ones.

However, I can’t forget she’s the enemy. A shiny new toy until I move on after corrupting her pure soul.

I came real fucking close to forgetting who she is to me yesterday.

Not close, you did.

“We should probably submit it too then,” I suggest to Maverick. “We’re suspended only for show.”

“How about you just order her to give us an A when you see her again?”

“I’m not going to see her, dickhead.”

Not until I have these foreign emotions in control. I despise that I went soft on her.

Why did I give a fuck she was triggered and hallucinated?

Because she forgot who you were and it scared you.

Last night went in a direction I never in a billion years expected it to go. All it did was solidify my belief that there’s more to my fascinating little creature than meets the eye.

However, it was my reaction to her demons and her vulnerability that disturbed me the most.

Why did it matter to me in that moment to fix her? To erase the broken little shadow on her beautiful face? To know the tragic tale of who put the look in those eyes in the first place? Why? Why? Why?

I was itching like thousands of bees were stinging my skin at once to run out of her place. Yet I sat quietly the entire time, a war brewing inside my head, while she took care of the wound in my palm like she couldn’t bear to see me in pain.

After everything I did to her, she still cared.

It fucked with my head.

The bandage she put onis still wrapped around my hand.

I need to change it but the thought of anyone but her touching my skin makes me livid. Every time I came close to doing it on my own, I backed out.

I lie to myself that I’m avoiding explaining to others how I got it in the first place.

“Then what are you using her for if not to get free grades?” asks Maverick irritably.

Unlike me who gives a fuck about his reputation, Maverick is a loose cannon and extremely reckless despite our similar upbringing.

His future is secure and the skills he requires to be successful and run his father’s multinational company one day aren’t taught in school. The grooming is being done by his father, Mr. Sinclair, who includes Maverick during his business dealings.

When thefuture is set in stone, it’s hard to muster up interest in things that don’t contribute toward it.

I also think this laziness will bite him in the ass once he goes to an Ivy League college.

“I told you I’m teaching her a lesson in who runs this town, and how I’m doing it is none of your business.”

“You’re very tight-lipped about Miss Davenport, Grayson,” he points out, a once-in-a-blue-moon serious expression crossing his face. “Don’t end up catching feelings for her. It’d be disastrous and you can kiss your dream of becoming the mayor goodbye.”

“I’m well aware of the repercussions and the risks.”

“Good. Because I didn’t get suspended for no reason.”

“You did, and it’s to fuck the COO,” I retort.

“You didn’t even know I was until now.”

I shrug.

“Prick,” he mutters under his breath.

“If you’re done gossiping, finish editing the video. I need to upload it tonight.”

Maverick is a talented videographer and handles all the editing of my videos for the private website. If it were up to Maverick, I think he would’ve chosen to do it professionally.

In fact, it was his idea to monetize our huge and rapidly growing following online. Private content is all the rage these days. Make it fulfilling women’s deepest darkest fantasies and you’ve hit the jackpot.

“I already finished it last night and texted you.”

Of course I missed it, because I was too busy fucking my teacher.

Why can’t I see she’s disrupting my life? Yet the thought of disappearing from hers makes me go berserk. All I need is to be in her presence and my brain short-circuits.

It chants to make her mine. Mine. Mine.

Touch her. Tame her. Fuck her. Destroy her.

Until last night, I thought she was just a Goody Two-shoes with a chip on her shoulder. Then, I experienced her vulnerability and the despair she carries. I realized with clarity that she was as twisted as I was.

Fuck. I need to get my head on straight.

“Let me see it,” I tell Maverick.

He gets up and goes to the corner where he has set up his many desktops and equipment. Sinking into the chair, he taps on the mouse and multiple screens light up.

I walk across the room and sit on the empty chair beside him.

When he hits play on the finished video, the instrumental remix of the song “Twisted Games” by Night Panda pierces from the speakers.

The video is from the night I met Nessa for the first time and after she ran away, leaving us behind with the original girl we were supposed to meet up with.

Mav didn’t want the night to go to waste, so I reluctantly agreed to shoot it. The girl was more than eager to do it as well. While I acted my part, all I could imagine was that it was Nessa I was chasing and haunting.

I have to commend the outstanding way Maverick has brought the scene to life with the flash of colors, lights, and effects.

It is gritty, tension-fueled, and primal.

The scene on the screen reaches the part whereI caught the girl, who didn’t match one-fourth of the emotion that Nessa portrayed. Of course, the difference was it wasn’t real for the girl.

As I watch, she begs to do anything as long as we let her go. Soon her scared pleas turn into cries of pleasure as Mav brings her to an orgasm.

No, I didn’t touch her. Not when I could still taste Nessa’s juices on my fingers.

Nessa unknowingly altered my cravings that night to something far more twisted and darker. She unlocked a door in my psyche that I didn’t even know existed.

Now nobody but her could satisfy those demented longings.

It’s only fair.

After all, it was she who let the devil possess her soul.