Page 85 of The Ruthless Note

Dutch Cross is very, very bad for me and very, very appealing.

But if I ever spread my legs for him, it’ll be a cold day in hell.

CHAPTERTWENTY

CADENCE

I've never been invited to an intimate birthday party before. And this one isn't convincing me that I want to make it a habit.

Vi and I are squished around the tiny table in Rick’s dining room. The place is decorated with balloons and banners. The table’s been set with a humble feast.

Rick is wearing a party hat. It's pointy at the top and strapped tightly under his chin. The cheerful rainbow colors on the hat clash against his dour expression. He hasn’t said much.

I’m starting to think Hunter never asked Rick if he actually wanted us here. The moment Rick saw us at the door today, his face fell. He tried to recover, but it was clear that he hadn’t been looking forward to meeting us again.

The only sound in the apartment is the clinking of forks against dinner plates. Rick is staring into his steak, not saying much.

His girlfriend, a pretty woman with tan skin and big brown eyes, shifts in her seat. Her eyes darting back and forth, she exhales nervous laughter.

“Cadence, Viola, how’s the steak?”

“Good,” I mumble.

Vi lifts a thumb in approval.

The silence falls swiftly again, blanketing the air with a thick, heavy awkwardness.

Rick’s girlfriend makes her second attempt at conversation. “Cadence, you attend Redwood Prep, right?”

I nod.

“Wow.” She wipes her hands on a napkin and leans forward. “I’ve always wondered what it was like in there. Every time we pass by, I tell Rick ‘look at those cars’. Everything in the parking lot shines like diamonds.”

My lips arch up at the corners, but I’m internally screaming.

“I bet rich kids are the same as us,” she comments, sticking her fork into a piece of lettuce.

“Yeah, they’re the same,” I murmur.

I think about Dutch and his brothers. Terrifying in their own right. Ruthless when put together. They own the school and everyone in it.

But not me.

Never me.

“Don’t Jarod Cross’s kids go to that school?” Hunter asks, his mouth a hard, firm line.

Rick’s eyes glint with interest. “Jarod Cross’s sons?”

“Their band played at the dance where I chaperoned.” He pauses. “They also followed Cadence to the diner the day we went to find your gift.”

My smile gets tight. Any tighter and it’ll shatter.

I really don’t want to talk about this.

“Cadence and Dutch are friends,” Viola blurts out.

Hunter’s shoulders get tense.

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