Page 100 of Brutal Game

Ugh.

The Gold family never came through for me and Asher when our parents died. Wealthy, elusive, exclusive, and possibly criminal, the Manhattan-based dynasty wantednothing to do with us, and we wanted nothing to do with them.

“Distant cousin,” I told him. “How do you know about the Golds?”

He smirked. “Let’s just say we go…way back.”

Hmm.

“What kind of way back?” I asked.

He shook his head, avoiding the question. “What’s the deal with your friend?”

“Tovah?”

“Yeah.”

I straightened, eyes narrowing. I didn’t know Isaac well, but if he was friends with Jack, it possibly meant his ethics around consent were as skewed as my…whatever Jack was to me now.

“Off limits, to you,” I told him.

He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re cute. I get what Jack sees in you.”

A throat cleared from the doorway. We both looked over.

Jack was glaring. “None of that,” he warned.

Isaac shrugged, still chuckling. “Don’t worry, I know it’s a look but don’t touch thing.”

“No more looking.Ever,” Jack said. To me he said, “C’mon, little fury, we have a dress to buy.”

“I have dresses,” I protested.

“Aviva, you’d be beautiful in a garbage bag. But I want to buy you something as beautiful as you, something new,” he cajoled. “Don’t I owe you at least that?”

He was trying to buy my forgiveness. Bribe me into softening toward him.

It worked.

“Fine,” I said.

“Fine,” he mimicked, holding out his hand for me to take. “C’mon, I scheduled you time at Pixie.”

“Pixie?” The boutique was invite only. Dresses there sold for thousands of dollars. “That’s unnecessary.”

Impatient, Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen. “I disagree. As much as I love you in my hoodie, wearing something I bought for you? Knowing when I take it off that I took care of what’s mine by clothing you? It’s very, very necessary.”

Pixie wasa misnomer for the exclusive boutique. I’d never been—not only because it was so far out of my price range it was ridiculous, but because I assumed, like the name, they’d only serve smaller sizes: not a 16-18 dress size like me.

I was wrong. Pixie was size inclusive, if not price inclusive. I gazed around the store, painted a pale gray with exposed beams and old, faded brick walls, with dresses of every color, style, and size hanging off racks made of old metal pipes. The store was funky and cool, but still very, very expensive feeling.

“Thank you,” I said quietly to Jack as he guided me around the store with a hand on my lower back.

I didn’t mean because of the prices; there was no way I was accepting this. But to keep my size in mind without making a big deal out of it? It made me feel seen and accepted in ways I never had before.

He smiled, like he knew what I meant. “I love your body, Aviva. I wanted to take you somewhere where I knew they’d do it justice.”

I turned to kiss him, just a peck, but he took advantage, urging my mouth open and deepening the kiss. It was sweet, affectionate, tender—so many things he’d only recently become toward me. So I kissed him back in the same way; it felt like a promise.

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