Page 142 of The Ruthless Note

“Then why use fighting words, kid?”

“Because I want to make it clear what this is. You might be able to survive making my father into an enemy.” I step forward and tap my finger on the desk the way he did. Once. Twice. “But you will never survive being mine.”

His eyes widen and his lips slacken.

I drain the rest of the whiskey and thump the glass hard on the desk. “Do we have a deal?”

He scans my face, deliberating it in his mind. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, but I do need him to remove that guillotine from over Sol, Brahms and her friend. This is the only way to keep all three of them in Redwood.

Miller’s lips flicker up in a calculative smile. He rubs his hands together. “I’m intrigued, Cross. But I can’t just take it back. How will I look if I go back on my word?”

“Then don’t. Let the deadline expire and extend the olive branch at the last minute. Come out of it looking like the savior who fought to keep them in school and use it for your own gain.”

His eyes rush with the idea. When he glances at me again, it’s with respect. “My daughter wasn’t smart to risk it all for you, but I can see why she would.”

I point to the crystal holding the rest of the whiskey. “I’ll be back for another glass.”

His eyes remain on me as I slip through the door of his office and take off.

* * *

I stay inside my car when I get back to Redwood Prep.

Sol has a therapy session now and I might as well take him straight there.

Besides, if I go in, I’m going to seek out Brahms again. And then I’m going to put my foot in my mouth by asking her to freaking marry me of all things.

The craziest part is… it’s not an unpleasant idea.

She belongs to me already.

Why not put the shackles on her wrists so she can’t go anywhere?

I run a hand down the side of my face and tilt my head back. The temperatures are scorching, and it feels like my air conditioning is going all out just to cool me off.

The door opens. Sol climbs in, his backpack in his lap and an unreadable expression on his face.

Neither of us say anything on the drive.

It still bothers me, that connection he has with Brahms. There are times when he looks at her and I genuinely want to gouge his eyes out.

He’s my freaking best friend. How the hell did I let a girl swoop in and destroy us?

I adjust my fingers on the wheel, determined to put my issues aside and focus on the bigger picture.

“Thanks for the ride,” Sol says when I stop in front of the hospital.

“Sol.”

One foot is already out of the car, but he freezes.

I stare straight ahead. “I’ve handled Miller. He’s not going to be a problem.”

Sol’s fingers tighten on the backpack.

“Trust me and wait,” I add, feeling the need to emphasize. There’s something about his gaze lately, something that sets me on edge. “I handled it.”

Sol says nothing in response. He just climbs out of the car and slams the door shut.

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