Page 13 of Bad Blood

All I would need to do is a month’s worth of videos, and I’d have the money to pay for my entire college tuition and enough to live on. I’d work, too, so I’d be fine.

When I get to my car, I click the link in the message and start filling out the form.

“Nice car,” comes the deep baritone of my monster.

Startled, I jump and nearly drop my phone.

Chad steps out from behind the archway and smiles, revealing dimples that should come with a warning label because they make him look even more ridiculously gorgeous than he already is.

Why are all the villains always so fucking good looking?

That’s all he is, though—handsome, beautiful even. The devil was beautiful.

This guy carries the same evil beauty that warns you to run away because if it’s too good to be true, it usually is.

“What do you want?” I try to keep my nerves out of my voice. It works to some extent, except guys like him who prey on the weak can always tell when you have to force bravery.

I’m not weak, but the situation with my father has left my mind fragile and vulnerable.

“I’m just wondering how it is I told you not to come back, yet here you are in your fancy car.” Raw menace is laced in his voice. As if he’s already stomped on me and victoriously ended my existence.

“I’m sorry for what my father did to your mother.” I hoped a simple heartfelt apology would be enough. Sometimes all a person wants is someone to say sorry. It seems like a long shot with this guy, but I thought I’d at least try.

“Glad to see you’ve done your homework, Billie Fairchild. So, you must know my name.”

“Yes,Chad Volchkov.”

He gives me a wolfish grin. “A stranger doesn’t become your friend just because you know their name. Neither do they have to accept a lame-ass apology simply because you offer it.”

“Look, I’m trying. I understand why you hate me, but you can’t blame me for something I didn’t even do.”

He moves closer, seeming much taller and more muscular than yesterday. When he gets far too close for comfort, I step back, bumping into my car.

I expect him to stay where he is, but he inches closer still, like he’s going to kiss me.

The thought instantly makes my bravado slip, and a lump the size of Texas forms in my throat, freezing the breath in my lungs.

“I’ll blame whoever the fuck I want to blame, and I want you gone,Malyshka.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I square my shoulders. “If you or your people could, I wouldn’t be allowed here.”

When he answers with a slow, easy, sensual smile and looks me up and down in the same leisurely manner, like he’s committing my body to memory, it throws me. I’m knocked off-kilter and surprised by the tingle of arousal jabbing at my insides.

No, Billie, under no circumstances must you get all worked up over this guy. He’s an asshole, for fuck’s sake.

“I personally haven’t allowed you to be here.”

“Well, clearly, your opinion doesn’t matter.”

In one swift move, he catches my throat just like yesterday and squeezes.

God. He’s crazy. He has to be.

“Let go of me. You fucking asshole.” I hit his chest, which feels like ramming my fist into a steel wall.

Sliding his fingers up to my face, he holds me in place and glares down at me with blazing eyes. There’s something else, though, lurking within the waves of hatred. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble,” he warns.

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