Page 96 of Green Flag
“Make her hate you so much that she quits,” he begged. “She needs to go back to university, to her music. She…” He shook his head and breathed deeply through his nose. “She always has the best intentions, but she clings to things she thinks are goodfor her. She doesn’t have the best judgment. She needs a reset. She failed her last year of uni and… they’ll let her back in. She’s ignoring the world — her potential — here. This isn’t the right environment for her…If she quits, I’ll let you quit. I’ll let you out of your contract.”
The words rang in my ears. She’d failed uni? She could go back?
But to hurt her?
“Let her go and be who she’s always wanted to be. She adores you and she’ll stay here for as long as you do. If I sack you, she’ll hate me. Please, Luca.”
I was blinking, unable to comprehend what he’d said.
And how I could never do that.
I wouldn’t even let the thought settle.
A world where Everly Bacque hated me couldn’t exist.
I wouldn’t be the person I wanted to be. I wouldn’t live with myself if I did anything to hurt her.
She was taking me by the hand then, stomping us over to the open elevator and pulling me inside. She rambled about her dad. Then about pillows. Haircare. Could I curl hair with straighteners?
“I thought straighteners were to straighten hair?” I asked, feeling dumbfounded. There were no thoughts in my head. Those who tried to get through the strong wall of my shock, through tiny crevices, were obliterated by pure confusion.
She grinned, and though we were alone, she reached for my hand again. “Of course not, silly. You can do so much with them. Sometimes, I even iron my clothes with them.”
Oh god, so much had happened in the last few minutes, that was what did me in. “I’m sorry?” I asked with a forced laugh. “You do what?”
“Iron clothes, of course. If I’m in a rush. I’ll be a doting housewife and do your shirt on Sunday if you’d like.”
“Um, yeah, okay. Thanks.”
She was still smiling as she led us into our hotel room and threw her suitcase on the very daunting king-sized bed—theonebed.
“I have a lot of stuff,” she admitted without shame. “And I’m ordering room service in the next ten minutes. And I’ll be living in that robe.” She almost cricked her neck, gesturing at it hanging on the door. “And nothing else.”
She froze and then looked up, staring at the wall before her. “Well, you know, underwear. Not nothing. I can wear my gym stuff, I guess.”
I threw myself on the bed with the same gusto she had her luggage, resting my palms on the back of my head. That way, I could see her as she unpacked.
“Wear as little or as much as you want,” I said, pretending to close my eyes, but peeking a look at her through my lashes.
Her gaze traipsed down me and she inhaled deeply through parted lips before turning back to her suitcase.
“At least this rooming business means we have more time to scheme,” she said, folding a tiny piece of fabric. Were those cotton panties? Ugh, they would feel so good, sopping wet against my cock.
“It will give us an excuse to get some shit on my dad. If only Nix were here, I was planning on getting him drunk and questioning him a little.”
Nix didn’t drink. He was off with Livie, and though no one voiced that, I was sure everyone knew it.
“Guess that gives you time for more self-defence lessons with Marco,” I said.
An uppercut had been her weakest throw before, but now I worried for my jaw if I ever pissed her off. It would be the first thing I’d go to cover when her eyes narrowed, not even my cock.
She hummed a non-committal response and perched next to me on the bed before ordering us both a burger and getting into her dressing gown. We spent the time chatting and eating. When she first got her plate of food and took a ravenous bite of her burger, she did a little wiggle of her shoulders. It was a move I doubted she was conscious of.
My breath caught at how adorable she was.
She deserved the world.
“If you could go back to university, would you?”
