Page 121 of Tempting Little Thief

He will know it too, if he doesn’t yet.

I expect him to feed me some line about not the place or the time or to serve me a reminder I don’t belong in these halls, a fact I know as much as he does, so color me curious when instead, he dips his chin and says, “I’m watching him, too.”

He doesn’t explain, doesn’t offer a single thing else, he just walks away, and as I go to follow, my eyes spot something shinyon the wall. A giant, blinking banner, the fancy imprinted kind held in place by what I’m sure are white gold clips.

The Greyson Gala, it reads, next Saturday at eight p.m.

Interesting.

I follow along the crowd, my mind spinning, and two uneventful hours later, we’re loaded on the bus, ready to head back to where we came from.

Never did I feel the difference between me and my rich girl more than I do right now, seated on stained bus seats, surrounded by people I know will never call the walls within these giant gates home but are leaving here today wishing they would.

Praying all their hard work pays off and the school sees their perfect GPA for what it’s worth.

They won’t.

No, you don’t get into the Greyson Elite Scholar program unless your daddy has something someone else can gain from.

The only thing gainable from the man who shared my blood was freedom, but not even my rich girl has that.

My eyes find hers as she stands on the brick steps, her privileged posse at her sides.

Invisible leash around her fucking neck.

I’m gonna find the lock fastening it to her and cut that bitch at the bone.

Free her, and then I’m gonna add my own.

It’s another two hours before we’re pulling into town, and I pop up, moving down the aisle until I’m dropping beside Chloe on the bench seat.

She huffs, tugging her earbuds from her ears. “Can I help you?”

“I need one more thing.”

“You said to get you on this bus. We’re even.”

“One more thing.”

She eyes me, her curiosity far too potent to say no. “What is it?”

Frowning, I face forward, forcing the words from my lips.

Chloe laughs, her hand coming up to cover it, but when my head is slow to turn, eyes meeting hers, the humor slowly fades. Her brows jump into her hairline. “You’re serious.”

Again, I say nothing.

She tips her head, gauging me. “Okay. Sure, but purely out of morbid curiosity, and you can’t tell anyone.”

As if I fucking would.

The bus pulls into the parking lot, and I’m the first to jump up when the doors open.

I look to her. “Tomorrow.”

She nods. “I’ll call you.”

I feel like a little bitch waiting for my phone to ring.

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