Page 7 of Mischief Mayhem

Was it because she was Bear’s little sister, the most forbidden of fruits? Or was it because she complemented the side of me that wanted to submit, the side that wanted someone to take control, to take my worst behavior out on my ass?

Everyone I’d ever met saw my face and treated me a certain way because of it. Not V. She was the only one who clawed at me, desperate to draw blood no matter where she swiped . . . and God help me, I fucking wanted her to bleed me dry.

I spotted Verona the moment I arrived, sitting with Selene and Thor in the audience. She had on that black miniskirt from my daydream and a Van Halen crop top with a big fluffy black sweater that looked soft and fuzzy. I immediately wanted to curl up in her lap, let her run her fingers through my hair, and bury my face in her secret places.

Despite all the people I’d fucked, all the people I’d effortlessly charmed into my bed, I suddenly didn’t know how to act around this one girl—and not even because something weird had happened between us. No, it was because I wanted the worst fucking things in the world from her, and I simply couldn’t have them.

Nope.

Shouldn’t want them. Couldn’t think about wanting them. And every time I did, I deserved to be strung up and whipped. Fuck, I wonder how hard she could hit.

No. No. No.

Shoving that deep down inside where no one could see it, I put on my Hollywood mask and made the rounds, laughing and hugging everyone I called family.

“Heya, Ruthie,” I said, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Even though I lived with her, I relished any time we got to spend together. She was one of my best friends, the proverbial little sister I’d never had. When Saint started fucking around with her heart, I’d stepped in to remind him who and what she was. No one fucked with any of my girls like that and got away with it, especially not Ru.

“Hey, Hollywood. Are you ready for this?” She wagged her eyebrows. “I overheard the hang-arounds talking about how there’s a pool on when and with whom you’ll break your celibate streak.”

“Really?” I raised my eyebrows, suddenly intrigued. “How big’s the pot? Maybe I ought to get in on that action.” I could use the money.

She laughed and pulled me into a hug before letting me go so she could head toward the stage to finish getting things ready. I joked with Wheels and wrestled with Lore, happy I could put a smile on the lonely brother’s face. Last summer, he’d been maimed by the Caputis and hadn’t really bounced back. He was a nice guy, and he’d looked out for Ru when no one else had, so I figured it was the least I could do.

Verona had finally caught sight of me and stood to walk closer, her gaze piercing through my heavily guarded fortress like a laser. I had to get out of here. I had to move before I smelled her delicious perfume and whatever it was that drew me in like a succubus.

I turned to make for the bathroom but ran face-first into Chelsea, the last hang-around I’d hooked up with before deciding to quit cold turkey. It had been months, but every so often, she came trailing around again like a feral kitten that knew I’d feed her if she meowed hard enough. Not that our time together hadn’t been nice; it had just been same as all the other people before it—physical and devoid of anything special. I didn’t want that anymore. I thought . . . Well, maybe I thought I deserved better, that Trojan died so I could have better.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed up on her toes to press her entire body against mine.

“I want you deep inside my ass, Hollywood,” she said. “It’s been so long.”

Good fucking God. These women are ruthless.

“I already told you,” I said, pulling her arms down so I could push her back. “I’m taking a break.”

She blinked up at me with disappointment in her big eyes and a pout on her lips. “Not even for me?”

Especially not for you.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” I brushed a piece of hair out of her face and pushed it back behind her ear. “But hey, if you’ve got the money, you can bid on a few hours of my time.”

Her face lit up like I’d told her the winning lotto numbers, and she wrapped her arms around my waist tighter.

“A few PG hours of my time,” I corrected, disentangling myself from her embrace again before she got handsy.

That deflated her ego, and she backed away with a frown. “I’ll see you then.”

Trying not to grimace at the thought of attempting to keep her off me if she won, I walked toward Alba, who was waving at me from the side of the stage where she stood next to KC.

“You look great, Hollywood,” she said, brushing her hands over the shoulders of my blazer. “Where’d you find this?”

“It was Trojan’s.” I shrugged, trying not to make anyone cry at his memory. “I think he wore it to prom.”

Alba laughed and hugged me while KC shook his head and lit a cigarette.

“You clean up nice, old sport,” KC said, patting me on the cheek like a grandpa sending one of his grandchildren off to school on their first day.

“Yeah? You, too.” I nodded and fixed my jacket, buttoning it together to make myself look more dapper. He, of course, was still wearing jeans and his cut, indicating he had no intention of getting up on that stage to take one for the team.

---