Page 84 of 10 Days to Ruin

“Because I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

Because even that one word is enough to chip away at my resolve.

“Because this?” I explode as I gesture wildly between us. “This bullshit, this facade? It’s not real! I mean, who are we kidding, Sasha? We all know what’s happening here. Or at least, what’s going to happen. You’ll marry me, dismantle my father’s empire, and toss me aside like yesterday’s news. That’s the deal, right? That’s what I’m signing up for? At least have the balls to say it to my face.”

His eyes cloud over. I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

“You think I want this?” His voice is gravel.

“I think you wantcontrol.”

“And you?” He crowds me against a lamppost, ignoring the tourists snapping photos of Bow Bridge. “What doyouwant, Ariel?”

The words claw up my throat:I want to un-know you. I want to stop wondering how your scars would feel under my lips. I want to stop pretending this is all a game, because if it is, I can’t tell whether I’m winning or losing.

“I want to go home,” I whisper.

For one terrifying second, I think he’ll kiss me. Instead, he steps back, jaw clenched. “As you wish.”

The walk to the park exit is silent. My chest aches like I’ve swallowed broken glass. At the curb, his driver waits, engine purring.

Sasha opens the door. “I’ll have Klaus take you?—”

“I’ll catch the subway.”

“Ariel—”

“This wasn’t a date,” I say again, desperate to believe it.

He studies me—the smudged eyeliner, the mustard stain on my sleeve, the way I’m brandishing my purse in front of me like a shield.

“No,” he agrees quietly. “It wasn’t.”

He gets in and shuts the door. The town car pulls away, leaving me watching taillights blur into crosstown traffic, until the hot dog in my stomach sours and the last of the sunlight dies.

27

ARIEL

“Riri! Over here!”

I rush across the road a split second before the light turns red. A car honks at me, but I don’t even flip the driver off—that’s how giddy I feel.

Because today, I finally get to see her.

“Mama!”

She hugs me tight, making me wobble from side to side. “My baby girl! It’s been ages!”

One thing about Belle Ward that most people don’t seem to clock until it’s too late: she has a grip of steel. “Ow, ow, ow. Ribs alert.”

“Sorry.” She pulls away, her hands still firmly on my arms, thatLet-me-take-a-look-at-youpose that parents do best. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.”

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