Page 132 of Vengeful Princess

The fiction section was on the mezzanine floor. Most of the books were classics so students could cut their teeth on authors like George Orwell, Virginia Woolf, and Ernest Hemingway. But there was also a small section of pulp fiction for people who wanted some light reading. Additionally, the library provided access to a catalog of e-books for those with a taste for romance and women’s fiction.

I knew damn well I’d find Thea up here, in the smutty book section, engrossed in a novel of questionable literary value. What I didn’t expect to find was Milo tucked away in a corner, watching her like a creeper.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, careful to keep my voice low so Thea didn’t hear. Not that she was aware of anything in her immediate vicinity. Whatever she was reading seemed to be thoroughly entertaining.

It was strange.

Thea was usually a blank sheet of paper, skilled at hiding her emotions, just like I was. Yet when reading a crappy novel, her face became far more expressive.

“Watching Thea,” he said like it was obvious and I was a moron for even asking. I noted how he didn’t even bother looking at me, making it clear she was more important.

“I realize that,” I gritted out, fighting the urge to punch him in the face. “What I’d like to know iswhyyou are watching her.”

That got his attention. He blinked at me for a moment, trying to read my face. He must have picked up something, because he frowned.

“It bothers you?”

Did it bother me? I decided not to go there.

“Don’t you have work to do? Like finding out who she really is?”

From the way he flinched, that barb hit home. It was a bone of contention that he hadn’t been able to determine her true identity. Not even with the bits of information she’d let slip. Or the fact Dario Peretti clearly knew her.

Naturally, he wasn’t talking. I’d tried asking him why he hated her and he told me to go fuck myself. At least, I think he did. It was hard to know for sure because I wasn’t fluent in Italian. The only word I recognized wasvaffanculo.

We’d not spoken since.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered before turning back to watch Thea. Yeah. He wasn’t working on anything. Like Kyril and Landon, the idiot was obsessed. Only when Milo became obsessed with a girl it was more concerning.

I hadn’t forgotten the fallout from the Haley affair.

“I’m about to disturb her little idyll, so you may wish to fuck off and do something useful. Like find out who she is.”

His blue-gray eyes narrowed. “She’s tired and stressed. Leave her alone, Cass.”

Thea was tired and stressed? How did he know this?I didn’t like the way my chest pinched at the thought she was in some kind of emotional pain, which was odd. I never usually cared about anyone but my friends.

“And you’d know this how?” We both watched as Thea smiled at whatever was happening in her story. The way her face lit up was astounding. She looked like a different girl and I wondered what awful things had happened to her to make her so guarded all the time.

The moment the thought entered my head, I shoved it away. I didn’t need to add another wounded pet to the list of people I cared for. It was already a full-time job making sure Landon and Milo didn’t get into trouble with their parents.

Kyril could look after himself, but I still had to keep his worst impulses in check. The lunatic was feral at times. His reaction to Dario Peretti being a good example of how bad things could get.

“We have a joint project to work on and she’s been ignoring my messages.”

Milo looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe if you brought her a hot drink and a cake, she might be more amenable to cooperating with you.”

I couldn’t decide what concerned me more: the fact he knew what she liked, or that I was actively considering his suggestion.

71

Thea

If those two idiots didn’t shut up soon, I’d bash them over the head with a thesaurus I’d spotted resting on a nearby table. It looked like a hefty book. Leather bound and guaranteed to inflict a headache.

Not lethal, but definitely a lesson learned. Namely,Thea does not like being disturbed when reading a smutty romance. Especially when the asshole MMC was about to rail the FMC in a graveyard. In a coffin, no less, while another member of their harem secretly watched from the trees.

It was riveting stuff. How the college thought this kind of novel was acceptable reading material was a mystery, but I suspected at least one librarian had a taste for spicy romances. The other day, I’d spotted the old dear with the gray hair and penchant for pink sweaters reading a dragon shifter romance while she thought nobody was watching.

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