Page 51 of Necessary Cruelty

What emotion flared in her eyes?

Jealousy or disgust?

The only way to know is to keep pushing until she snaps.

Or breaks.

And if I’m feeling generous, maybe I’ll put her back together again.

Sophia tries to push her hand down the waistband of my pants and I grip her wrist harder than is strictly necessary to shove it away. She makes a mewling sound that sets my teeth on edge, but I do my best to ignore it. For now, I still need her.

“Let’s go dance,” I suggest, not waiting for a response as I use the leverage on her wrist to pull her after me. We’re heading in the same direction Zaya and Jake just went.

People make a point of trying to talk to me as I stride past with Sophia in tow. I ignore most of them, giving a brief smile that probably looks more like a grimace here and a nod there, but it should be obvious to anyone watching that I don’t give a shit. Each and every one of these people could disappear off the face of the planet, and I wouldn’t care.

I’m only here for one reason.

Zaya is dancing with Jake. The song is slow, but the arm he has at her waist is stiff and a little awkward, like he isn’t sure how much pressure to use. There is enough space between their bodies that a determined person could easily push in between them.

Obviously, they haven’t screwed yet.

The sense of relief I feel just annoys me even more.

Swinging Sophia into my arms like a rag doll, I glide us close enough that Zaya would have to be blindfolded not to notice us coming closer.

Hopefully, selective mutism doesn’t go along with selective blindness. I stole her voice, not her goddamn eyes.

Zaya makes a point of ignoring me, going as far as turning her head away when I get close. But I’m too attuned to her to miss the tension that tightens her shoulders and raises the little hairs on her arms. She is as aware of me as she always is.

I know, because I’m just as aware of her.

The music changes as the band picks up speed for a faster song. I watch the way Zaya moves out of the corner of my eye, her body swaying with the beat in a way that is unlike any other girl here.

I tell myself I’m watching her for a sign of weakness, some hint that it’s finally time to move in for the kill. But I try and fail to tear my gaze away.

“What’s with you?” Sophia bites out in annoyance as she follows my gaze. “I thought you were here with me.”

I swing her around, the movement fast enough that she stumbles and ends up facing away from where Zaya and Jake are dancing. “Shut up.”

I’m not surprised when she clamps her mouth shut, but just a little disappointed. Sophia has never been a challenge. If I say jump, she’ll already be in the air when she asks how high. I could tell her to suck my dick right now, and she probably wouldn’t hesitate, even with most of the town here for the show.

It’s boring. This has always been boring, but that bothers me more now than it ever has.

Maybe the problem is that everyone always assumes Sophia and I will end up together, including her. People treat us like a foregone conclusion, as if I don’t have any real choice in the matter. She thinks I don’t know that she warns other girls away from me and writes my name all over her notebooks like a lovesick idiot.

I don’t do anything because I’ve never cared enough to address it.

Maybe I saw ending up with her as a necessary eventuality, too. It wouldn’t be a terrible match, all things considered. Her family is wealthy and well-placed. She might be a vapid and vindictive idiot, but that describes most people in this town. And she isn’t too terrible to look at if you’re into that hair bleach seeping into the brain look.

But I’d never made us official, and not just because I was putting it off. I keep Sophia hanging on the hook because she makes things easy, but I’ve never really wanted her.

At least, not in any way that matters.

Whatever I feel for Zaya is too complicated to dwell on for long stretches of time. I like to focus on the simple parts. She owes me a debt, and I own her ass until it’s paid.

But now the bitch is standing in between me and my damn inheritance.

Remembering that infuriating little fact makes me want to stride across the ballroom and wrap my hands around her throat. But I don’t have to worry about that urge. When I glare over Sophia’s shoulder, there is only an empty space on the dance floor where Zaya and Jake had been.

They’re both gone.

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