Page 74 of One Spicy Summer

“I did.”

Tears slide down her cheeks. For the first time in too long, there’s a crack in her armor.

She starts to say something, but her phone rings. She grabs it, turns toward me, pale, scared.I mouth, ‘put it on speaker.’ Shockingly, she listens. “Hello?” she answers.

“What the fuck took you so long, Presley?” The voice on the other end makes my blood boil. “I was in the bathroom. Dropped everything when I thought my period started,” she lies smoothly.

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Prez?” He says it,mynickname for her.

The fucking nerve.

“Please, don’t call me that,” she says quietly. “And no. I’m not lying.”

“Oh yeah? How do I know that?”

“Because you’re probably already on your way back to check.”

There’s a long pause, then a low whistle. “You sure know me, baby. Throw on something nice. I’m taking you out tonight.”

I want to rip his throat out.

“You got it,” she says, voice trembling. “I’ll jump in the shower.”

“Good girl. I’ll grab you a little something on the way. Sorry about last night. And this morning.”

When she hangs up, she turns to me, still trembling. “Before you say anything, I don’t want your pity.”

“You won’t get it,” I snap. “Because youchosethis.” I slam my palms down on the counter. “Why, Presley?Why?Money? Drugs? Fear? Tell me why you stay!”

She cries, voice cracking. “I stayed because he was my supplier. I stayed because I was broken after the- after I, ” She cuts off, hiccupping.

“What is it, Presley?” I move closer, desperate to understand. “Please. Talk to me.”

“Because you weren’t there!” she screams. “Keifer was. And now… I’m stuck. I don’t know how to be who I was. I’m the drughead whore everyone talks about. But did anyone tell you why, Rygaard?Did they?”

“No,” I whisper.

“You need to leave.”

“That’s not happening.”I pull a card from my wallet and shove it into her hand.

She flips it over, reading the words:Markus Architecture.Shock flashes across her face. “I knew your middle name was Markus, but…”

“I own it. Built it from nothing. For you. For us.” I step closer, voice low. “I don’t care who you’ve fucked. I don’t care about thedrugs. Those things can be fixed.Youcan be saved. But I’ll be damned if I let that asshole keep hurting you.”

Her lip trembles, but she hardens again. “You’re not my knight anymore, Rygaard. I’m not the same girl you left behind.” She shoves me toward the door.

“You’ll have your wish tonight,” I say, stepping out. “But tomorrow, Princess? He’s dead.”

It’s a fucking promise.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Presley

When Rygaard leaves, I collapse to my knees, the tears pouring down my face. After all this time, my body still betrays me, still craves his touch. Even after all the cruel things he said, I ache for his hands around me.

I’ll never understand how I just stood there, letting him strip me bare, revealing every shameful mark the years have carvedinto my skin.Even as his fingers grazed over my stretch marks, a sliver of warmth flickered inside me. This treacherous body of mine.

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