Page 95 of The Misfit

I spin my chair to face her, trying not to smile at how adorable she looks when she’s angry. Her silk gloves whisper instead of squeak as she clenches and unclenches her fists, a sure sign she’s counting in her head to stay calm.

“Technically, I didn’t hack into your account,” I correct her with a playful smile on my face. “I just put money in it. There’s a big difference between the two.”

“Lee!” She starts pacing, exactly three steps in each direction. “I don’t care about technicalities. This isn’t funny. Do you know what your mother will do when she?—”

“Finds out?” I interrupt. “She already knows.” I turn back to my monitors, pulling up the tracking program. “She checked the accounts four minutes ago. Probably right before you got that notification on your phone.”

Salem stops pacing. “You can see that?”

“I can see everything.” I shrug, trying to make it casual. “Been monitoring the family accounts since I was fifteen. It’s amazing what boring rich kids learn when they’re grounded from parties.”

“But …” She moves closer, peering at the screens. “I knew you did things on your computer, but I never imagined that it was anything like this. It’s illegal, Lee. You could go to jail.” Salem’s concern for my well-being makes my smile grow tenfold.

“I could, but I won’t. My mother would never press charges or do anything that would tarnish the family name further. She retaliates in worse ways. Reporting me to the police would be far too easy for her.”

“But why? What do you get out of this?”

“I get the satisfaction of her knowing that I sent that money to you and that there isn’t a damn thing she can do about it. It’s not nearly as bad as what she’s doing. Trying to buy influence with the Hendersons. She sent five million dollars to Charlotte to fucking buy me a bride. Using money to control everyone around her.”

Salem goes very still. Too still. The kind of still that means she’s about to drop a bomb.

“About that,” she says quietly. “Your mother … she offered me money, too.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before my brain processes them.

“What?” I spin to face her again. “When?”

“About an hour ago. At the coffee shop.” Salem won’t meet my gaze and instead focuses on arranging my pens at perfect angles. “She offered me one million dollars to leave you. Although now, I feel a little cheated that she didn’t offermefive million, too.”

An iceberg settles in my chest even as I grin. “Dammit. That explains the transfer to Charlotte. She was hedging her bets.”

“You’re not surprised?” Salem’s voice cracks. “That she tried to buy me off?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “The only surprising thing is that you didn’t take the money and run. One million’s a lot of money, Pantry Girl.”

“I don’t want her money.” The fierceness in Salem’s voice makes me look up. “I don’t want anyone’s money. I want …”

She trails off, but I hear what she doesn’t say.

You.

I. Want. You.

“Well,” I say softly, “now you have both. The money and me. Consider it karma’s way of rewarding good behavior.”

“Lee—”

“Or consider it my way of telling my mother to fuck off.” I reach for her hand, running my thumb over silk-covered fingers. “Consider it whatever you will.”

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Here I am.” She squeezes my hand. “Though I’m starting to think you’re crazier than I am.”

“Without a doubt.” I tug her closer. “Want to count ceiling tiles and talk about it?” The air feels lighter, but I can still tell something is bothering Salem. “Did something else happen? Did she say something?”

Nothing will stop me from putting my mother in her place if she put Salem down for being herself.

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