Page 59 of Jerk
“I’d be risking a lot on my own. This is a better use of my information,” Hannah says, her eyes narrowing like she knows I’m hiding something. “Coach blackmailed you?”
“He made you fuck his wife?” Ember chimes in again, and I wish she’d just focus on her art.
I ignore their questions, not ready to go down this road. Not with her. “What would you risk?”
“Everything,” Hannah responds, those eyes softening as they linger on me. “Rye, I thought you had sex with the Coach’s wife because you wanted to. I wouldn’t have leaked the story if I knew it was blackmail.”
The shock and worry on her face make my stomach churn some more. Not only that, she finally admitted what she did. And after last night, that only makes my headache worse.
“Why didn’t you just tell the press they took advantage of you?” Ember asks.
“Focus, ladies,” Mac says, my grip tightening around my glass so hard I think it might break. “Rowen, how soon can your father and Krystal be in the same room?”
His redirection pulls my mind out of the hell she put me into. “He’s never around.” Then it hits me, my pacing slowing. “But he will be this weekend. It’s the Mayor’s Ball.”
“So it’s a deal?” Hannah asks, putting on the pressure while I rack my brain for what to do. “I get my life back, and you get yours too.” She locks eyes with me, the ache in my stomach worsening.
There’s still pity in her eyes. Regret. Remorse. This isn’t how I wanted it to play out.
If I agree to this deal, I want to remind her what I’m capable of taking. I want her to scream for forgiveness while I control every inch of her. I need her to see me not as broken, but as the dangerous fuck hellbent on tearing her apart.
“Last night was a mistake.”
“Hannah.” Moving towards the door, my eyes gaze over that body. The one that was mine all night and is about to be again. “Can I have a word in private?”
TWENTY-TWO
HANNAH
It wasn’ta one time thing.
It wasn’t just an evening.
It wasn’t just a night hidden on an island to be locked away forever.
“Can I have a word in private?”
No words were said. Only soft moans and grunts in Mac’s garage on his father’s old Aston Martin. My legs wrapped around Rye, the cold metal a contrast to our hot, panting bodies. Rye has a way of claiming me I’ve never felt before. And it’s devastating.
We went into the week with a plan: find Krystal and convince her to take her father down with the documents I sent the Crowns. We haven’t had much of a conversation since then. Not in the campus stairwell where my moans echoed up to the fifth floor. Not in the rink, my back against the cold glass wall, his hand over my mouth. Definitely not in the women’s bathroom, the door locked, my chest against the counter with my hair in his grasp.
Is a mistake still a mistake if you keep doing it?
Leaning against the column at the top of the art building, I let a puff of my cigarette out into the afternoon air. While theselittle moments make my days better, it doesn’t take away from my reality.
Ryung Rowen tried to ruin me.
Sure, we’re working together, but things are far from perfect. I still don’t have an internship, and I’m super behind on classes. Rye is a proven distraction. First, it was trying to regain my crown. Now, it’s… whatever the hell we’re doing.
So, can you really trust him?
“Hannah!” Looking over my shoulder, Chloe calls my name as I make my way down the steps into the quad. “Wait up!” I don’t. She catches up with me anyway, Zurie behind her. “You demolished Professor Hunter in class today.”
Well, that puts a smile on my face. Professor Hunter tried to claim male designers invented high fashion. I argued that women repurposed high fashion as a form of rebellion and made it art. I won.
“It was iconic,” she says. And she’s right. But that doesn’t change anything.
“What do you two want?” Keeping my head high, I continue striding down the halls, my heels clicking with every step. In honour of the photo from the party getting out, I’ve opted to elevate my wardrobe this week. That’s the best thing to do in The Hill. Own it. So I did, sporting a crystal-embellished bralette and matching skirt.
