Page 37 of Brutal Game

“Bro,” Isaac warned, from his perch on the same bar stool. One of the girls from earlier was sitting on his lap.

I lifted my chin at him, and he shook his head but dropped it.

Placing my hand casually on Aviva’s ass, I turned in a circle so even hanging upside down she could see everyone—and everyone could see her.

I raised my voice, making sure everyone could hear me. “Sorry, Tovah, I’m taking my cumdumpster home for the night. She has a more important job to do.”

There was silence at first as people digested my words. Then laughter rang out, almost haunting in its mockery.

Isaac shook his head. “Too far, man,” he said.

For a moment, I felt guilty, but the emotion was quashed by satisfaction. I’d done two things at once:

Successfully humiliated Aviva.

And made it absolutely clear to everyone that she wasmine.

“I hate you,” I thought I heard her say.

It was okay, because as I’d said, I didn’t like her. An emotion this big? It had to be hate.

Had to be.

Galvanized by the catcalls around us, I carried her out the door and down the block to my BMW XM, setting her roughly on the ground and gripping her hip to keep her in place while I unlocked the car.

“Get in,” I told her.

“No.”

“Aviva, get thefuckin the car or so help me god, I will strip you naked on College Ave and make you suck me off in front ofevery goddamned person who walks by, and if they have a penis, I’ll make you suck them off, too. Those are your only options.”

Glaring at me, she pulled the passenger side door open with a jerk, and I couldn’t hold back my wince when the bottom of the door dragged across the curb.

“Do that again, and I’ll spank your ass so hard, my handprint will be embedded in your ass until the day you die,” I warned.

She didn’t say a word, just got in the car. I leaned down, making sure to take care of her seatbelt for her like she was a child before closing her door. Going around to the driver’s side, I shut the door, starting up the car. Matt Maeson started playing as I pulled out of the spot and made a u-turn, headed toward her apartment.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Home.”

She sat up straight. “How do you know where I live?”

I glanced at her.

“Princess, you still don’t seem to get it. I know more about you than you can even imagine. Don’t worry your pretty little head though; I’ll know everything soon.”

She shook her head. “Jack, it doesn’t matter how much snooping you do. Until you realize I’m not a liar, you won’t know me at all.”

With that shit-stirring statement, she went silent, and didn’t speak a word to me for the rest of the drive.

She was lying.

She had to be.

Because if she wasn’t, then she wasn’t the one living in a house of cards.

I was.

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