Page 6 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

Unknown Number: No one knew what a sexy little ass you had under all those clothes. Almost made me jealous.

My stomach does a flip, and I peek up at the board, where Mr. Henderson writes out a quote fromAct III, Scene II:

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

I take a deep breath, this message isn’t from Damien, he knows why I’m late, and Cast doesn’t talk to me all flirtatiously and carefree. When he talks to me I always feel like I’m about to cry or moan.

Unknown Number: Maybe I should make you wear sweats only from now on, keep some secrets for us.

My fingers tremble as I type out a reply.

Me: Vincent?

The response comes almost instantly.

Unknown Number: Smart girl. What gave me away?

I bite down on my lip, my pulse thundering in my ears. Why is he texting me? And why now, of all times?

Me: Little devil.

Vincent: Well that’s what you are Willow. My own personal hell. My little devil.

Personal hell? My breath catches in my throat, and I shift in my seat. How could I be Vincent Beaumont’s personal hell? I mean he’s from an old money family that can probably be traced all the way back to the King of England, and he has everything in the world he could ever want. After my debt is paid I will be a fun party tidbit, or a long forgotten memory about his crazy high school days, nothing about me should ever bring hell to Vincent Beaumont.

Me: How am I your personal hell?

Vincent: By breathing.

My chest tightens. Rosemary Sterling was a mother to all three of the Chessmen. I feel like I have killed their mother, maybe I deserve this. Maybe I don’t deserve to make it out of senior year without paying my dues for being alive in the first place. Maybe living with my Aunt in a two bedroom apartment with her four kids wouldn’t have been so bad?

Me: Well it’s my personal hell wearing this outfit.

Me: Everyone’s looking at me.

Vincent: Want me to make them stop?

I snort. There is no way Vincent could make every person in this school stop staring at me, and even though I am his “personal hell” it’s sweet he would offer. Right?

Me: You could try. (laughing emoji)

Vincent: Done.

Vincent: Send me a pic of my outfit, so I can tell them where not to look.

Me: I’m in class. I can’t.

My eyes wander nervously around the room, my cheeks flushing with heat. It feels like every person in this class can see the messages Vincent is sending me, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement and embarrassment. My fingers tingle with anticipation, and right before I can tell him how ludicrous of a request that is, my phone buzzes again with a new message.

Vincent:Take the picture, or I come to your class and see for myself.

I sharply suck in a breath, my eyes flicking to the screen right when Mr.Henderson, starts to pull up a video on the screen of a performance ofMidsummer Nights Dream. If I am going to do it, now is a better time than any other.

I silently curse Vincent under my breath, feeling the weight of his threat pressing down on me. With trembling hands, I discreetly position my phone camera towards the ground, angling it just enough to capture a glimpse of Vincent's outfit. I quickly press the capture button and send the photo before hastily tucking my phone away, heart hammering in my chest. Seconds later, I feel my phone buzz twice, but I don’t check it, instead I look forward and focus on the lecture.

After class, I look at Vincent’s messages.

Vincent: Goddamn.

---