Page 87 of Obsessed with my Temptation

Mark whipped his head toward me, caught, but his surprise was quickly hidden.

“No good manners, Princeling?”

My jaw was set hard. “I asked you a question.”

There was something in his hand.

“I’m just taking justice into my own hands, you know?”

“Justice?”

“My own brand of justice anyway.” Mark’s Cheshire cat smile made all my hairs stand on end. “It was a long time coming. As your dickheadfriendshould have told you, he fucked me over. Not just once, buttwice. And you don’t fuck with Mark Jacobson without suffering the consequences.”

My chest felt tight hearing him say ‘friend’ like that. Like it disgusted him. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

“I think you have the story turned around in your head.”

“Do I? I don’t think I do. Because when your bad boy douchebag pal decided not to follow my story and accept the blame for beating me up, my father found out about my little underhand business and threatened to take me to whatever hellhole in Europe rich men send their rebellious offspring when they won’t comply. It took a lot of hard work to clean up my image in front of him, and even more for things not to go public.” Mark chuckled, interrupting his spiel. “Well, I guess I should thank him, though. It helped me a lot more careful ever since, and now I’m paying it forward.”

The thing in Mark’s hand was a little bag—transparent and full of white stuff. “Do you think your good friend Travis will only be kicked out of college for drug possession when an anonymous tip reaches authorities? Or will it also ruin his stupid boxing career before it has started?”

“It won’t do any of those things, because I won’t let you.”

“You will if you don’t want to end up the same way. Or if you don’t want me to tell everyone how much you’re gagging for his cock.”

My hands balled into fists. The fear of being judged for what I wanted still lingered, but it was nothing like it had been before, after the last two days.

I didn’t care anymore if anyone knew. I wanted to be out and proud with Travis.

“I won’t let you take this out of this bag even if I have to stay here until the officers come in,” Mark said, putting it inside.

I closed the distance. “And what will they do when I tell them to look for handprints?”

Clearly, he hadn’t thought about that.

“Don’t be a little bitch, Scott. You’ll be better off without him. You of all people should understand how hard it is to be perfect all the time. I could help you with that.”

The fact that he read into my every insecurity, that he spoke to them, made me feel sick to my stomach.

But I wasn’t that person anymore.

“No, thanks.”

“Why? Are you really going to tell me you havefeelingsfor him?You?” When I didn’t respond and Mark saw my expression, he laughed. “Well, isn’t itrich? Reality is much better than fiction, man, that’s for sure.”

Old humiliation wanted to seep into my veins, but I didn’t let it. Instead, I let the fire of rage and indignation coarse through me, giving me strength.

I wouldn’t let Mark ruin Travis again.

So I leaned in, and went to get the bag.

But of course, he didn’t let me.

We started struggling and the bag broke, pouring all of the contents on top of Travis’s things.

I felt all the blood drain from my face.

Mark laughed. “Even better. No bag, no proof, am I right?”

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