Page 8 of Tell Me Why
He leads me through the foyer and down a long hallway. Rush House looms over the ExU campus like a living thing, but I’ve never been inside, and I can’t help but admire it. It screams old money. Massive gold frames house paintings that look like they should be in a museum. And predictably, most of the portraits are of men, each one staring down at the observer with snobbish contempt.
Charming.
We reach a set of double doors, and Jackson pushes them open, then ushers me inside. It’s a huge room with massive bookshelves, a fireplace surrounded by a tufted leather sofa and matching chairs. It looks like something out of an old movie—a patriarch’s paradise.
“You can sit down,” he says distractedly while he types out a text.
Yeah,no. I move to stand next to the unlit fireplace, my hands clasped in front of me. Sitting would put me in an even more vulnerable position than I’m already in, so I remain standing. It makes me feel like I’m in control.
Jackson’s phone rings, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him before answering it. While he’s talking, I strain to catch a stray word, but I’m too far away from the door, so I can’t really hear anything.
With a deep, steadying breath, I try to calm my nerves, but it’s pointless. I’m in the lion’s den now, and once the Sacred Sons find out who I am, anything could happen—and there’s no one here to protect me. I’m on my own.
Several agonizing minutes pass before the door opens again, and Jackson walks back through the door. But this time, he’s followed by two other guys—Ethan Ashford, aka “Ash,” and Christian West.
I knew he’d be here, and yet, my breathliterallycatches when Christian walks through the door. For one, he’s shirtless and dripping wet, like he was plucked right out of the ocean for this meeting.
Damn.My gaze trails over his torso, taking in every sculpted line, from the chiseled definition of his chest to the ridges of his abs, down even further to that dusting of blond hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his black swim trunks. My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip.
Eve, you’re staring.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I jerk my eyes up to meet his, mortified to find him staring back at me with an amused smirk.Ugh, shit.
Does he recognize me? I can’t tell. We haven’t been face-to-face since that terrifying day in the hallway, but he looks exactly the same—that same swagger, same cocky smile. The same long fingers that did wicked things to me in the middle of the psych building…
I swear, I can still feel him inside me. And that face. It’s the same face I see at night when I touch myself. I know, I know. I shouldn’t be imagining him in any scenario, let alone fucking me. But that’s myoneshameful secret—I masturbate to a guy I loathe with every burning fiber of my being. I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with that, but I try not to analyze it too much.
Breathe, Eve. Just breathe.
For a couple of minutes, we all stand in awkward silence. It’s like they’re waiting for something—or someone. Probably Lucas. The Sacred Sons are an aristocracy, and all decisions regarding the Burning Crown are made among the four of them—at least, that’s what I’ve read. So I’m guessing they need Lucas here before we can begin.
Another few minutes pass before Lucas finally bursts in, looking disheveled and annoyed. He doesn’t notice me at first, but when he finally does, he looks confused. “Who the fuck is this?”
My gaze shifts nervously to Christian, but he doesn’t say anything, and I have no idea what to make of that. Maybe hedoesn’trecognize me. It shouldn’t surprise me. Anyone outside his circle is just a non-player character in his world. I have a feeling we all move around in the background, existing for the sole purpose of his sick entertainment.
That’s clearly all I was to him—someone in the background who caught his attention for a brief, terrifying moment. Then once he was done with me, I was forgotten. Probably before he’d even stepped out of the building.
Knowing that should give me a sense of relief. Against all odds, I’d managed to dodge a bullet. But instead of feeling relieved, the sting of him not recognizing me cuts through me. I’ve obviously been thinking about himwaymore than he’s been thinking about me.
I need therapy.
Jackson shrugs. “No fucking clue. She popped up about twenty minutes ago and said she was here about the Shadow and Ash shit. We figured you’d probably want to hear what she has to say, too.”
Lucas looks at me more closely. “What’s your name?”
Oh,fuck. Here we go.
I take a deep breath. “My name is Eve,” I say, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. I ball my hands into fists and lift my chin. “Eve Savano.”
Every one of their faces shifts from annoyed curiosity to alarm, their eyes widening, muscles tensing…
Welp, that’s it. The die is cast. There’s no turning back. My fate is now in the hands of the most ruthless guys on campus, and the only thing going through my head is…
What the hell am I doing?
CHAPTERFOUR
Christian
