Page 54 of Now You're Mine

I have no idea where I’m going. New York, maybe? And only because it’s the farthest possible point from California. I know if I don’t physically remove myself from the state, I’ll be drawn toher again and again, watching her from afar, growing more and more desperate to touch her. And eventually, I’ll break. I’ve only ever hadoneweakness, and that weakness has pale green eyes, curvy hips, and a smile that could melt stone.

Abruptly, my bedroom door is flung open. No knock, nothing. “Roman, dude, you need to get up. This is pathetic.” It’s Lucas, and he has a fast food bag in his hand. He tosses it at me. “And run some water over that fucking mane. It’s gross.”

I set the paper bag aside and sit up, running my fingers through my hair. “Any updates on Lux?” I ask. It’s the same question I ask every morning and every afternoon.

Lucas shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head to the side. “I’ll repeat what I tell youevery-fucking-day. We have it handled. If there’s anything you need to know, we’ll tell you. In the meantime, you need to focus on your own damn self.”

I yawn and rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Four in the afternoon,” he answers flatly. “Get the fuck up. There’s someone downstairs asking to see you.”

I wave him off, and slide off the bed, moving toward the bathroom. “Tell whoever it is to fuck off.” I don’t even care who it is. If it’s not Lux, then I’m not interested.

Lucas sighs. “He says he’s a lawyer or something.”

Oh, right. That sparks a memory. I called him a couple of days ago because there’s some shit I need to handle.

“Fine, I’ll be down in fifteen.”

Lucas nods. “He’s in the study.”

When Lucas leaves, I hop into the shower, soaping up, and washing off quickly. I can’t help but remember Lux in here with me, her slick, creamy skin brushing up against me as we navigate the shower.

Goddamn.

I lean against the tiled wall, head resting on my forearm as the hot water washes over me. I can’t fucking do this. Livingwithout Lux is like living without my fucking lungs. How can Ipossiblydo this?

Downstairs, I meet with the guy in the study, my lawyer. The meeting takes all of thirty minutes because I already know exactly what I want. The lawyer balks at my request and tries talking me out of it, but I hold firm.

After the meeting, I grab a bottle of vodka, and walk down to the beach, wending down the twisting dirt path in my bare feet. I sit down in the sand, and take a long pull from the bottle, watching the waves crash in the distance.

As I sit here, I ask the same question I ask myself every day. How did I manage to fuck up so badly? I never have a good answer, and I don’t have one today, either.

Seagulls squawk overhead, and I take another long pull of vodka, the alcohol lighting a path down my throat. Maybe I can just drink the pain away, and drown the images inside my head.

This stretch of beach is where I first set eyes on Lux in the flesh. I’d seen photos, obviously, and read the highlights of her life in the report my private investigator put together. But this is where I first saw her with my own eyes—and I felt it, even then. I wanted to deny it, but even in that first, brief meeting, the electricity snapped between us.

I knew the second my gaze met hers that she was different somehow. I hated her then. She was a means to an end. But I should have known. I should have realized I was way in over my head when it came to Lux. There was something between us I couldn’t control.

Another deep swig of vodka, and the alcohol is starting to do its work. Warmth soaks into my bones, and I suddenly feel like I’m floating. Another drink, then another, and already a third of the bottle is gone.

I need to see her.

One more time before I leave.

Just one last blissful taste. Then I’ll walk away forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Lux

It’s beentwo weeks since I’ve set eyes on Roman. After the hours-long police interview at the station, Lucas brought me back to campus and found me emergency placement in the William West Residence Hall—a building funded by Lucas and Christian’s grandfather.

I just needed space, some room to breathe.

So tell me why after getting that space, it feels like I’m dying inside. The last two weeks have been absolute hell. Myeverythought comes back around to Roman, always. I’m desperate to know how he’s doing. How he’s coping.

I remember how I felt right after Bree was killed. Grief like that consumes and suffocates. But I had Roman. He was there, taking care of me when my entire world looked like an apocalyptic hellscape. Who does he have? His guys, I guess.

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