Page 315 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Marcus says.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Indi grab her necklace in a fist. It makes the bracelet I borrowed for her gleam in the hall’s subtle downlights, but Marcus seems less interested in that trinket than the stone around her neck.

I’m not surprised. That sapphire must have set her back half a bar. Or her parents, at least—there’s no way she bought something like for herself. A family heirloom, then? Something that wasn’t lost in the fire?

Or was that all a fucking lie?

I take a step back, raking my gaze over Indi.

She’s dressed to the fucking nines, when just today she told me she didn’t even have a dress. It can’t be Addy’s—Indi would be swimming in even the shortest, tightest thing Addy owns.

Suddenly, I’d rather stick my cock in a fucking vacuum cleaner than put it anywhere near Indigo Virgo.

I push past Marcus, dimly aware that Indi’s trying to talk to me, but the super-heated blood rushing through my ears drowns it out.

Fuck her.

Fuck this.

Fuckeverything.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Indi

It’s as if Briar was some kind of shield. The moment he turns the corner, I’m no longer protected by his presence. Cue Marcus—who’s so fucked, I can’t imagine how many drugs he’s on. I push against him, my mind still whirling with how close Briar was to fucking me.

Marcus’s jaw works feverishly as he steps closer. I keep backing up, but I’m only too aware that I’m running out of hallway with every step.

“I need the bathroom,” I say.

“We all need shit, princess.” Marcus grabs my necklace, and I freeze. I want to move away, but I’m too scared he’ll yank and the chain will break. I can’t risk losing the only thing I have left of my mother.

Then why the fuck did you wear it tonight, you egotistical moron?

Marcus’s eyes dart up to mine. He smooths a curl away from my forehead, shaking his head. But his eyes aren’t on me, notreally. They’re unfocused, his mouth moving as if he’s talking to himself.

And when I catch him saying, “…she looked so peaceful…” I can’t bear him being close to me anymore.

So I knee him in the groin.

At least, Iattemptto knee him in the groin. But just like self-defense courses have become pretty much compulsory for women these days, it seems every dick head in Lavish knows how to sidestep feisty chicks trying to knee them in the cherry popper.

But it doesn’t matter that I don’t hit my target, because I’m free anyway. That’s the thing with men—you drop a bomb next to them and the first thing they do is cup their ball sacks.

I race away from Marcus before I remember that I’m still wearing Addy’s suicidal heels.

Which means Istartrunning away, trip, fall, skin my knees, and almost twist my motherfucking ankle.

I spin around, plop down on my ass, and start crawling away, already feeling Marcus’s hands on my ankles, my legs, my thighs.

But he’s just standing there, watching me.

I stop and slowly slide off my shoes while my heart thump-thump-thumps so fucking hard, I swear he can hear it.

When my shoes are off, I stand.

Marcus’s eyes track me, but that’s it. His shoulders have sagged, and there’s no expression on his face.

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