Page 41 of Tempting Little Thief

I tighten my hold, shoving her back, even though she’s already pressed as far against the statue-wielding beam as she can be. “You’re the one who cheated on her entrance exams because you couldn’t be bothered to study, and you weren’t intelligent enough not to. The one who allowed a boy to videotape her in bed because he said he wanted to take a piece of you with him overseas, forcing Dad to take apieceof him as retribution. The one who was so desperate to be number one in our father’s eyes that you arranged an unsolicited union between you and the son of our father’s greatest fucking enemy. The one who realized her mistakeaftersigning a contract that promises you as his wife. And you’re the one who ran away from said man, knowing full well he owns you now. Literally. He fucking bought you, Boston!”

Tears cloud her eyes, and my throat burns in response. I hate this. Hate how I feel like I hate her.

I release her, my gaze following as she dramatically drops to the ground, coughing uncontrollably and rubbing along her reddened skin, her tears threatening to leak now. “Don’t cry. You did this to yourself.”

She nods, looking everywhere but at me. “We can’t all be emotional zombies, Coco.”

“Good thing one of us can, or we’d both be blinded by Balenciaga, wouldn’t we?”

We stare at one other for a moment, and I note the fairness of her skin is even fairer, her cheeks even thinner. She’s doing it again, making food the enemy. Waging war on her body to combat her brain.

“I told Dad to send you back, but he’s afraid if he does, they’ll return you to our doorstep … in a casket with his name on it. What you two don’t seem to understand is your running already warrants one. They’ll have Dad’s head for this if it gets out. They won’t allow their family to be humiliated.” I swallow the bile threatening to rise as the truth burns across my tongue like acid when I add, “Any more than I will.”

Relief washes over her in an instant, and she reaches for me but quickly catches herself, her hand falling to her side. “Really?” she whispers. “I can come back to the manor?”

“I have to get the girls’ approval and sit down with Calvin to talk about how the students could be affected if this goes bad faster than Dad seems to expect.” Her gaze flicks away, guilt settling along her shoulders as she draws them back. “We might even run this by Damiano, too, as it affects him. He approved admission to your fiancé’s little sister. Did you know this?”

Her eyes widen. “Is she already here?”

“She’s finishing her semester in Paris. She’ll be here next term.”

Boston nods, looking away.

My attention falls to her arms, both frail looking, her body as willowy as ever—the perfect ballerina. If a ballerina is a malnourished, oversensitive bitch.

She’s not actually a bitch. Well, not any more than we all can be when pushed, but she pulled some bitch shit, so it’s fitting. Honestly, she’s the kind one of the two of us. The understanding and caring one. All of which makes her weaker in the ways the heir to Rayo Revenaw cannot be.

“You’ve been gone three months. Have you been training?”

A haunted look falls over her. “No.”

“Dancing?”

She looks away.

That’s a no.

My eyes narrow, and I bite into my cheek, telling myself to walk the fuck away and fast.

To avoid anything unnecessary, like grabbing on to her wrist and tugging her to me for a hug I shouldn’t want to give her. Like telling her I missed her and I’m glad she’s back because I’m not.

I would be if things were different, but they aren’t, so here we are.

She’s too unpredictable and runs on a whim when we’ve been taught to do the opposite.

I spin on my heels and head back down the stone path. “Go and stay gone unless you’re called back. Meet me in the throwing room of the manor at two tomorrow afternoon.”

She says nothing and I head straight for the lower-level pool.

The second my feet hit the inside of the glass elevator doors, I start stripping. Tearing my fingerless gloves from my hands, I toss them aside, yanking the earplugs from my ears and letting them fall where they may.

My beret is next and then the white vest and boots. I’m unzipping my body suit as the doors ding open, the scent of specialized chlorine thick in the dewy air. My throat thickens instantly, but I swallow beyond it and push forward.

I clap my hands and the long glass windows disappear into the rocks, and a swoosh of fresh air seeps into the space, filling my lungs.

I climb the steps, up and up, my feet freezing at the second platform, glaring up at the third level.

Fuck it.

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