Page 58 of Feel Free to Scream

Her grandma made her go to Sunday school until Claire filled up her schedule with enough science clubs, chess clubs, and debate clubs to beg off it. The controlling bitch, seeing the girl weasel out of her control, pushed her toward one of her friend’s grandsons until it worked, wanting nothing more than to keep Claire under her thumb. She failed with her own daughter, and Claire was her second chance. She thought she’d managed, too. But Claire’s too bright for that. She accepted Rothford’s offer so fast, although she could have studied at MSU with the boyfriend. They offered her a scholarship, too. Not as large, but she wouldn’t have needed as much money if she’d stayed local. No, this was a bid for freedom. But the thing is, I don’t think she’s fully acknowledged that. She remains a product of her upbringing on the surface.

Underneath, it’s another story. And it’s down to me to peel away the layers.

What’s funny is if I made this very offer—take care of all her financial burdens in exchange for sex—but topped it off with a nice little diamond ring, she wouldn’t see anything wrong with it.

No ring for you, my treacherous little snitch.

“I can’t just—it’s preposterous!” She throws her arms in the air.

“Is it?” I tilt my head. “Then why are you considering it?”

She groans audibly. “Because I have no choice!”

“You have several,” I reply reasonably. “You listed a few: a job in town, roommates. Hell, you could even just say fuck it and return home. Apply for late entry at whatever mediocre school suits your fancy best. I can assure you the board won’t be so spiteful as to tarnish your reputation outside of Thorn Falls. You haven’t pissed anyone off that much.”

Though she came pretty close with Cross. I think he might have stepped in if it wasn’t for me. That would not have been fun for my innocent, prudish little ghost. She’s also lucky his attention’s currently exclusively focused on Lily. A few years ago, he would have had her hanging in a swing and half of the cocks in town taking a turn with her to atone for her threat.

“This is the best school! It’s my best option. Most of the Ivy League don’t even compare.”

“Which makes it your choice,” I insist, needing her to understand this. “You believe you deserve the best. I happen to agree.”

Frustration and shame battle for dominance as Claire shakes her head before looking down.

“Don’t you wonder what it would be like? Being taken care of,” I ask gently.

She doesn’t have much experience with it. Her basic needs were met, sure, but if she ever wanted anything past the required food and clothes and housing, she had to work for it. And some desires were not permitted.

“In exchange for sex.”

I shrug. “Nothing’s free in life. And you have nothing else that could tempt me.”

She’s not meeting my eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. I know she’s made her decision. Voicing it is another story.

“You want to see your room?” I offer, heading out of the kitchen towards the elevator.

It was renovated five years ago, but retains an antique look, with wooden panels and glass windows. I don’t look behind to see whether Claire is following me. Of course she is.

“The penthouse floor is my cousin’s,” I tell her, pointing to the top button, before pressing the one right underneath. “It’s supposed to be mine, technically, as Sebastian graduated, but he’s often around because his girlfriend’s still studying here. So our floor’s the second to last.”

“Our?” she repeats.

I smile. “Each member of the Vesper Tower gets a floor. Mine happens to include two guest suites. You’ll stay in the largest.”

Exiting the elevator, and crossing my entryway, we reach the open-plan lounge. I’ve occupied this floor for two years, so I’ve made it mine. Some of the features weren’t altered—the dark gray floor, the chimney and Oxford-style shelving in the reading corner—but my interior decorator changed the rest. The walls are dark teal, with gold accents: lights, curtains, the feet of the marble table, a few cushions on the soft velvet sofas. A large hanging light illuminates the center of the room. It’s a nice space to relax in.

I show her around. My kitchen’s smaller than the one downstairs, but it has the essentials. The smaller bedroom, I turned into my office.

“There’s space for another desk,” I note out loud. “I’ll order one.”

Next, I take her to the spare bedroom—hers. It and mine are twins, each with a small walk-in closet and an en suite. It has a shower rather than a bathtub, but I know it’s a hell of a lot nicer than her dorm room.

“And I’m across the hallway,” I say, tilting my head towards my door. “You saw it yesterday.”

Claire’s still standing in the middle of the room, speechless.

I grin. “You can decorate. I know it’s all a little gray.”

She recovers herself enough to whisper. “Thank you.”

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