Page 54 of Iced Out
“Mila.” Her voice dipped, gentler. “Don’t waste your empathy on him. He’s a mark. He gets to play savior. We get a scholarship and stability. He’s not the worst, but don’t romanticize it. That’s not what this is.”
I chewed my lip. “He wants us to move in. Doesn’t he?” They always fell hard and fast for her, even if they knew the score.
A flicker of surprise passed through her expression. “He’s mentioned it.”
“And?”
“And that’s not the right angle.”
“What is, then?”
She tilted her head, studying me. “You sure you want the answer?”
I nodded once.
“He wants to feel as if he belongs.” She broke the crust with her thumb. “Like money and power. But he’s not one of them—he’s the help. So he clings to me, treating me as his meal ticket into the club. Younger woman, complicated past, pretty enough to distract from the fact that he’ll never really sit at the table.”
It made my stomach twist. How easily she said it. How transactional it sounded. “And your job? You’re working for Elise’s dad.”
She stilled. “Did something happen?”
“She’s a problem. And she’s too connected. Are you working directly under him?” If Elise and I came to blows, it wouldn’t just be a social fallout—I could cost Mom her job. That was the only reason I hadn’t done the damage I’d wanted to.
“Not always. Mostly his second. But he knows who I am.”
“Can you find anything out?” I bit my bottom lip, not sure I liked what that said about me, but I was definitely my mother’s daughter in ways that mattered—being prepared, forewarned, doing my homework.“About him?”
Her brows lifted. “Why?”
“Because from what Elise is hinting at, he’s up to something. And I’m not walking blind through this town anymore.”
She leaned back, arms crossed, studying me as if I’d grown another spine. “You’re learning.”
“I’m surviving. There’s a difference.” My voice cracked, just slightly. “And I need to know—we’re not leaving, right? Not inthe middle of the night. No packing bags while it’s still dark out. No ditching phones and switching cars. No starting over.”
She was quiet for a beat. Then she set her plate on the coffee table and clasped her hands in her lap, all the usual performative ease stripped away. Just her. Just us.
“We’re staying,” she said, steady and sure. “That’s the deal. Until you graduate. I gave you my word, Mila—and I meant it.”
Something in my chest unclenched. Not fully. But enough. I nodded. “Okay. Good.”
Her hand brushed mine. Brief. Gentle in a way that felt like comfort.
“As for Elise’s dad,” she went on, voice dropping into something sharper, “he’s not clean. Not even close. But the people who deal in shadows don’t just hand you their secrets. It takes time. Patience. And access.”
“Do you have that?”
“I’m working on it.” Her mouth curled, sly. “I always do.” She stood, stretching. “Pizza’s probably cold.”
But I didn’t care about the pizza. I just watched her move through the kitchen, part predator, part survivor, part mother—everything I knew and didn’t know about her wrapped up in one woman.
I wanted her to say more. That she had a plan. That we would be safe. That all this wasn’t just another slow-motion collapse.
But she didn’t. She reheated a slice. Sat back down. Pressed play as though none of it weighed her down. And I did the only thing I could. I let her—because Mom was on it. There was a plan in place. And I’d get the information I needed so Elise couldn’t ambush me. Or Luke. Not without me seeing it coming first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LUKE
