Page 92 of Picture Perfect

Chess leans forward, elbows on his knees, his hazel eyes earnest. "Is that why you work so hard to keep everyone else out?" He's treading dangerous waters, but Chess has always been one to push boundaries.

"Chess!" Dre glares at him, but Chess holds up a hand, silencing the reprimand.

Her laugh is hollow, devoid of humor. "I don't," she lies, and we all hear the lie for what it is, but she’s like a fortress with the drawbridge pulled up.

"Come on, Princess," I persist. "We've all had our share of crap—"

"Which gives you exactly zero right to pry into mine," she cuts me off, her green eyes flaring with a mix of anger and something else—something pained.

"Snowflake—" Dre starts, but she's already shaking her head, her blonde hair catching the fluorescent light as she stands.

"I'm done here." Her voice is steady, but there's a tremor in her hands that betrays her calm demeanor. Without another word, she shoves the unfinished food onto the table in front of her and heads toward the door, leaving an oppressive silence in her wake.

"Damn it," I swear under my breath, raking a hand through my dark curls. My gaze finds Chess, and I can feel the coil of desperation tightening within me.

"Marry me!" I blurt.

She stops dead, her stance rigid. I know she heard me. I mean, I screamed the damn request. But, she doesn't respond. She doesn't move toward the door either, so it feels like a small victory.

"Marry me," I repeat, my tone softer. "Give me a year. We can sign a contract and everything. A year and you get your freedom. You'll be 18, they won't be able to control you anymore."

"Are you...insane?" She demands, turning her head just enough to take me in.

"I might be. But, I'm serious about this. You don't...you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We don't even have to consummate it, Princess. That's not what this is. It's freedom."

"Really? Because it feels like another cage."

The implication of what she said sinks deep into my marrow. It only steels my resolve. I know Dre isn't pleased about this decision. He wants her. In a way he's never wanted anyone or anything else.

"You'll have the money you need for college no matter what happens between us. I'll follow your lead, Princess. Mason is already making arrangements with your father. You just have to agree."

She doesn't move. Doesn't respond. But, her eyes sweep over Chess and then Dre, lingering. I've seen how she blossoms with them. How her sharp, icy edges start to melt. I won't be another cage for her. After what I've put her through, I'd do just about anything to make her happy.

I stand and move until my chest is pressed to her back. This part isn't for them. It's for us.

"You don't have to choose. Marrying me doesn't mean giving them up," I whisper into her ear.

She stiffens. "So, you'll marry me and just pimp me out to your friends?"

"I'll follow your lead. I mean it. You don't even have to choose me, Princess. Just choose freedom."

For a moment, she melts back against me. I press a kiss just below her ear, unable to stop myself. Her hands find mine where they're wrapped around her hips. But, instead of giving in, she pries me off and leaves without another word.

She needs time. I get that. This isn't over. Far from it.

"Chess, you need to dig deeper. Whatever she's hiding—it could be the difference between her making it to eighteen or not."

He nods, understanding the gravity without needing it spelled out. "I'll get into everything—emails, socials, whatever she's got out there. And then I'll follow them back to the source. There's got to be something, somewhere."

"Everything," I stress. "No more secrets. We're doing this for her, whether she likes it or not. We need the truth."

"Got it, Saint." Chess's fingers are already flying over the keyboard, the mischievous glint replaced by steely determination. "I'll find out what's happening in the Winthrop house. No stone unturned."

"Good," I say, feeling the weight of responsibility settle onto my shoulders. "We're in this together, for Princess. No matter what."

"That's not enough," Dre's voice cuts through the silence.

"Yeah," I mutter, nodding. My mind races as I scan the room, landing on Chess who's still poised in front of his computer, radiating focus. I stride over to him, my resolve hardening with every step. "She can't keep using that phone. Her parents track everything."

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