Brutal Obsession (103)
From off camera, Greyson asks, “You wanted to win her back?”
He laughs. “I fucking tried to mess with her head like you do. Especially after that video of her blowing me was posted. But instead of reacting like she does to you, she just… was done with me.”
It ends. The camera goes black.
At least it sort of confirms that Greyson didn’t take on Jack alone—but still, hearing those disgusting words come out of Jack’s mouth is something I wasn’t prepared for. I shudder.
“Why did you come to my apartment that night?”
He scowls and looks away. “A fucking fluke. I wanted to see up close and personal how you were handling the press release.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“You don’t remember what happened that night?”
I shrug. “No. I remember Jack waiting for me when I got home, and the next thing I know, I woke up feeling like garbage. Willow and I pieced together that something happened, but…”
“I came into your room to find him…” Greyson’s jaw tics, and he visibly has to wrestle himself under control. “He was about to make a choice that would’ve ended a lot differently for him if I had arrived five minutes later.”
I shudder.
“I knocked him out, put you to bed, and took him to the point. He needed to know that touching you would have consequences.”
“And you broke his knee?”
He sneers. “He got off easy.”
“After hearing that? Yeah, he did.”
He steals a kiss from my lips. It’s quick, there and then gone, but his smile is back. “See? You’re as bloodthirsty as me. Another reason why I love you.”
I freeze. “Love?” I choke out.
He grimaces. “Not romantic enough? Fine. I’ll tell you in other ways… tonight. After my hat trick.” He puts his lips next to my ear. “I’m looking forward to seeing you naked on our kitchen table.”
45
VIOLET
Here’s the thing about hockey: it’s fucking brutal.
Fights are legal, for the most part. As in, unless it’s extreme, you’re not going to get kicked out of the game. Brawls are an integral part of it.
So when we take our seats in the stadium, the energy is… intense. More so than the regular season games. It thrums through my system like a cranked-up stereo is pressed to my skin. Grey gave the four of us—Willow, Jess, Amanda, and me—better seats. We’re at center ice, right up at the glass. Directly to our left is the penalty box and the Hawks’ bench. If I stand and lean back, I can see the broad-shouldered players.
We’re in the third period, just the start of it, with eighteen minutes left on the clock. The score is two to three, with the other team in the lead. Greyson has scored once, and my heart is in my throat. Two more, and I’ll be at his mercy. Until midnight anyway.
But I think I’ll be at his mercy anyway.
My phone vibrates, and I glance at the screen.
Mom
We need to talk.
I scowl.
Higher above us, Senator Devereux is in attendance with an entourage. They’ve taken over one of the suites. I’ve avoided looking up there—avoided turning around in general, for fear that he’ll see me and the ruse—the one where I stay away from his son—will burst.
My phone goes off again.
Mom
Violet, please. I’m outside the stadium.
She’s… what?
I nudge Willow and show her the two messages.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She scoffs. “No. Just pretend you didn’t see them.”
“Oh my god!” Amanda screeches, grabbing my arm.
Greyson has the puck, and he charges across the ice. He’s a force to be reckoned with. He passes it to Knox and darts around one of the defenders. Knox passes it to Erik, who gives it right back to Grey.
He shoots and scores, and the Hawks come barreling toward him in celebration. We all jump to our feet, cheering and screaming as his teammates skate around him and clap his back.
Three to four.
He skates past and points at me. He grins, holding eye contact, and then raises his index finger up. One more to go.
I blush and grin back. It’s hard to beat back the team spirit. The dance team embedded that in me, if nothing else. I want our school to win—to go all the way to the finals, even. And I definitely want to know what Grey is going to do to me after he makes another goal…
My phone buzzes, more insistent.
Mom’s calling me now.
“I’ve got to take this,” I say to Willow.
She grimaces. “Do you want me to go with you?”
I pause and meet her eyes. “Really?”
“Of course.” She’s decked out in blue and silver, just like me. We sprayed some blue glitter in our hair, and some of it has flaked off on our skin.
I’m about to tell her not to bother, that I’ll be okay, when she rises.
“Not going to give you a choice,” she says. “Let’s go.”
We slip out of the row and hurry up the steps. I make the mistake of glancing up as we’re about to go through the tunnel out into the hallway. Senator Devereux stands at the glass, his gaze on me.