Page 74 of All I Desire

“C’mon in,” he says, taking my hand. “Chloe’s by the pool with my mom, trying to explain the wonders of K-pop to her.”

“As a matter of fact, I have something along those lines that I think she’ll like. A gift.”

Matthew laughs, his eyes twinkling. “You’re going to spoil her more than I do.”

We’re at the open door now. It’s a giant, faux European wood slab with iron detail. “I found some stickers for her. What girl doesn’t like stickers?”

He puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me into the house, the big door shutting behind us. “Yeah, so this is the home they’re renting.” His voice trails off and he looks at me, one eyebrow quirked. We grin as if we’re both in on a secret joke. Oh yeah, we’ve got this.

“You can’t buy taste,” he murmurs in my ear.

I giggle. “Such an unusual choice for a beach home,” I murmur back, craning my neck to take in the heavy, exposed, wood beams on the high ceiling. A shame it’s so dark inside when the place is right on the beach.

I let go of Matthew’s hand so I can spin a little, taking in all the gaudy décor. Is that a gargoyle? A three-foot-high beer stein? Ick. “Looks a little like a German beer hall.”

“I think that vibe is intentional,” he says, laughing. “Oh, hey. There’s my brother. Dude, I’d like you to meet Natalia.”

My gaze lowers from the ceiling. I suck in a breath while my heart, stomach, and every other organ plunges and settles at my feet.

Chad.

He’s standing there, grinning lazily. Chad.

The guy who bullied me in high school. Who bet his buddies that he could take my virginity. (He won.) Who, the last time I saw him, was blind drunk.

That was the night he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed, all because I’d exchanged a few polite sentences with another guy at a party.

“Natalia Hastings? Is that you?” he says. His voice drips with a bored and arrogant cadence, like he’s only mildly interested in the answer. I hate that his voice is instantly familiar, like I’ve never fully erased it from my memory.

I don’t move. I’m frozen to the tile floor, hoping a giant sinkhole will open and swallow me whole. It’s impossible for me to form words because the memory of the last time that Chad and I were in the same room is replaying in my brain on a sickening loop.

His words and actions that night were what finally made me break it off for good.

Well, with the help of my family and a restraining order.

“You little bitch. Are you trying to make me jealous by talking to that guy? Do you want to fuck him? He’s just a stupid prick from Miami. Is that what you want? A new dick? Am I not good enough for you?”

I was saved only because he’d forgotten to lock the bathroom door and a group of girls walked in. They saw what was happening and swarmed him, screaming and pulling me away and punching him, long enough for me to run out, gasping.

I realize I’m doing the same thing now, gulping in breaths in the middle of this giant living room in a tacky mansion, fifteen years later.

“Natalia?” Matthew inquires softly.

He reaches for my arm and I instinctively shrink away.

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