Page 80 of Burn With Me

“I don’t care if you’re fucking the girl, Isaac,” my father tells me. “In fact, considering the entertainment her mother has provided—if the two are anything alike—I completely understand the appeal.”Fucking bastard.My hands tighten further on the steering wheel until it creaks beneath the pressure. “Just make sure not to get too attached. Women have their uses, Isaac, but that’s all they have. None are worth keeping for the long term. You use them and you move on. If I’ve taught you anything in life, it’s that you need to understand when to let go of your pawns and pick up new ones.”

Pawns.I grit my teeth. That’s all they are to him. That’s all my mother had been and all Aurora and her mother are. When I don’t say anything, Damien continues.

“Have Aurora dressed appropriately at the Icari estate Saturday at eight. I expect to see her there or else.”

I don’t have to ask what he means and he doesn’t offer any more of his threat before the phone call ends. With a curse, I toss my cell into the passenger seat and press down harder on the gas. The engine of my car revs as the tires squeal on the pavement.

Adrenaline pumps through my system and alongside it, fear. There’s no telling how much he knows about Aurora and me. From his words, he knows enough to make certain assumptions. Correct assumptions. When I pull into the parking lot of the hotel and get out, tossing my keys to the valet, I snatch my phone back up and click across the screen until I get to the secret camera app Shep installed for me.

I pull up the black and white image of Aurora’s bedroom. In the dark, she’s curled up on her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as she breathes evenly beneath her covers. As the elevator ascends to the topmost floor, I watch her. Counting her breaths, I stroke my finger along the screen.

She’s alive. She’s breathing. She’s okay. That’s all that matters for now. That’s everything that matters.

37

RORI

My phone buzzes for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, vibrating against the scratched surface of the coffee shop table. I take a quick glance at it and blanch, reading Isaac’s name at the top before I swipe away from the dozen or so texts he’s sent me. He keeps calling, but I don’t answer those either. I’d like to block him, but something always holds me back from going that far.

It’s been several days since the piercing shop incident, but my tits are still a bit sore. My only saving grace is at least I’m able to wear bras now without wanting to either cry or rub myself into an orgasm. I’ve never felt so sensitive from just my nipples before, and it’s disturbing.

Instead of responding to him, I type out a quick text to Selene, asking her where she is and to give either Hel or me a call because we’re worried about her. She hadn’t responded to either of us over the weekend, and come Monday she’d missed out on her classes, but after a quick talk to the professor—we found that she’d at least emailed her instructors letting them know she’d be out of class for work for the next week.

Even with the tension at the apartment between Hel and me, we’re both worried about her. At least we know she’s alive, but it still worries me that she hasn’t seemed to come home.

The coffee shop door jingles as it opens and I lift my gaze away from my phone screen to see Marcus step into the shop, a brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders. I stand quickly and lift a hand, stopping his quick scanning of the room as he spots me and heads my way. When he arrives, he closes an awkward arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick hug.

“I got you a coffee,” I say, gesturing down to the table. He releases me and we both take our seats. I let him take a sip of his coffee before I jump into the reason for his visit.

“Okay,” I say, leaning forward and crossing my arms over the lip of the table. “Now, are you going to explain what the hell that weird phone call was all about?”

Marcus’ gaze moves away from me and towards the rest of the room. We’re a considerable distance from Hazelwood—a good half hour’s drive—but that doesn’t protect us from anyone we might know. I can understand his hesitation and caution, especially considering the information he relayed to me over the phone, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious to hear it.

“This might not be the best place,” he says.

I blow out a breath. “You wanted to meet somewhere off campus,” I remind him. “What are you even doing back in California? What about Eastpoint? I’m sure you’ve got shit to do back there. Football practice and school. You’re in your senior year, you don’t have the time to be flying back here all the time.” Which he understands—so that must mean it’s important.

“I told you that an FBI agent approached me at Eastpoint,” he says, reminding me of our phone conversation from a few days ago.

I nod quickly, my fingers tapping the scarred wood. “Yeah, you warned me that someone might try to talk to me, but I haven’t seen or heard from anyone like that.”

“What about Damien?” he demands. “Has he tried to contact you?”

I grimace. “Yeah, but it’s about the party that he and Mom are throwing—their belated reception or whatever it is.”

Marcus leans back in his seat and lifts his coffee back to his lips to take a long gulp. Now that I look at him, he seems tired. Dark circles rim the skin beneath his eyes and his hair is casually shoved back but clearly unbrushed. There’s a shadow of beard growth on his jaw that is normally well-shaven. When he sets his cup back on the table, I reach for his hand.

“Are you okay, Marcus?” I ask. “What’s this really about? What’s going on?”

“Damien Icari has been sticking his nose into Mom’s businesses,” Marcus says with a tired sigh. He scrubs his free hand down his face even as he turns over my palm and lets me lace our fingers together. I tighten my hold on him.

“Aunt Carmen is smart,” I remind him. “She’s the one in charge of Summers’ industries—Damien can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” Marcus admits, “but she didn’t even know Mom got married.”

I blink and lean back, our fingers separating. I bite down on my lower lip as confusion fills me. “That doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “Even when she flew off, she always told Aunt Carmen about the men she was with.”

“Yeah, and usually Aunt Carmen gives us a heads up, but she didn’t this time.”

---