Page 25 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“Fine,” I mutter, staggering under the weight of the books.

I’m seething with fury, and it’s only the first day of this treatment.

I’m not going to make it through the school year. I’m just not.

I’m going to snap and strangle Dean, and then he’s going to rat me out to the Chancellor, and they’ll reopen the investigation into Rocco’s death, and they’ll find evidence that it was me, because I wasn’t that fucking sneaky. I know there’s some mistake, some piece of evidence I missed that will tie me to his death as soon as Luther Hugo knows where to look.

I stalk alongside Dean, arms burning under the combined weight of his books and mine.

Once again I’m a little shadow, stuck to the side of a smarter, stronger person.

Only this time, it’s not my lovely sister I’m trailing.

I’m bound to the devil instead.

5

DEAN

My control over Cat Romero is an aphrodisiac to which I am quickly becoming addicted. Every morning my heart rate quickens as I descend the stairs of the Octagon Tower, knowing she’ll be waiting there for me, her big dark eyes taking up half the space of her face, and her arms wrapped tight around her petite frame.

I’ve spent all night long imagining how I’m going to order her around. Picturing that indignant pink flush that suffuses her cheeks, drowning out her freckles, and the way her body trembles with barely-contained fury as she’s forced to stuff down the retorts she’d so sorely love to return, in favor of simply obeying.

She hates it, yet she has to do it.

And that is indescribably delicious to me.

All my life I’ve been fucked over. My father bitter and maimed, spiraling into claustrophobic rages until he drove my mother away. My mother fleeing when I was only ten years old, abandoning me to my father’s madness. The remnant of our once-proud family sidelined by the Bratva, while those who betrayed us flourished in Chicago.

Then I came to Kingmakers, only to watch the one girl I’d ever desired reject me for my worst enemy, my own fucking golden-boy cousin who lives the life I should have had.

Nothing has ever gone right for me.

Until now.

Cat is a gift that fell into my lap.

And nothing and no one can take her from me—because I know her secret. I hold her life in my hands. As long as she and I are the only two people who know what she did to Rocco Prince, I’m free to torment her to my heart’s content.

God, how I love it.

I love the way she serves me, resentful but submissive. I love the way Bram and the others are racking their brains, dying to know why this girl follows after me like an obedient puppy. And most of all I love the way it’s driving Anna Wilk and Leo Gallo crazy, because they can’t comprehend why Cat leaves the shelter of their protection to return to me again and again.

Miles Griffin would have figured it out. But he’s six thousand miles away in Los Angeles, along with Cat’s sister. Cat is all alone, completely at my mercy.

I’m slowly expanding my control over her.

Testing her.

I tell her what to wear each day, and how to wear it. I like her green skirts the best, and her thick black knee socks that highlight her innocence. Her hair has grown longer since last year, the wild curls down below her shoulders. I tell her when to put it up in a ponytail, and when to hold it back from her face with a band.

She’s my own personal doll that I can dress to my tastes.

I know it infuriates her. My demands are arbitrary and capricious. And that’s exactly what I enjoy—never letting her get comfortable. Never letting her know what’s coming next.

I spend a lot of time watching my little pet. I’ve come to know every freckle on those delicate cheeks. Every thick, black lash on those wide-set eyes.

Cat Romero is pretty.

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