Brutal Obsession (75)

He appraises me, understanding lighting his expression. He finally nods and releases me, but he stalks close behind. I get the sense that he’s taking notes of what I take, what I waver over, and what I pass by without hesitation.

“Are you trying to dance again?”

I stiffen. “What?”

“If it’s off the table, you could theoretically eat whatever you want.” He looks pointedly at my plate. “Instead, you’re eating the breakfast equivalent of rabbit food.”

I grunt. Aquatic therapy is probably a shot in the dark, and it’ll put me in debt. But damn it, I’m still going to try. And I’m not going to let myself waste away—or slack. Sometime in the middle of the night, I came to that decision. That I’d rather open a few credit cards than not dance again. Screw the consequences.

“I’m not losing hope,” I tell him.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat.

I stop and look at him again. His dark-blond hair is still damp. It’s longer on top, short on the sides, and a few locks curl down over his forehead. Blue eyes. Full lips. Killer jaw. And right now, he gives off the vibe that he’s homing in on something.

What that is, I don’t know.

“You gonna tell me?” he asks again.

I shake my head. I meant what I said yesterday—I’m not going to tell someone my most intimate fear, and new discovery, when I know they won’t care. Deep down, I know Grey doesn’t. He’s incapable of it.

We’re enemies.

This truce is exactly what he called it yesterday: temporary. It’ll burst the moment we arrive back on campus.

So why should I get deep in the trenches with him now? When I know he can twist it around to hurt me later?

I finish filling my plate and head toward Willow. My headache is receding, but my muscles ache. I feel strangely awake, too. Like I’m buzzed without coffee.

That could be from Greyson making you come before you woke up.

He asked if I had a good dream. Sarcastic, sure, but I did. Come to find out my body’s very visceral reaction was from him.

Although I can’t say I hated to be woken up that way…

It’s a little invasive. But let’s be honest. Greyson is a little invasive.

As a human.

“Good morning!” Willow’s singsong voice precedes her shit-eating grin. “Sleep well?”

I grimace. “You abandoned me.”

She laughs and leans across the table. “I was dancing, and suddenly you were gone. I think you abandoned me.”

I squint at her. Huh. My memory of last night is foggy, so I’ll have to take her word for it. But anyway, that’s not what I was referring to—I was talking about the hotel room. I look across the room, to where Greyson is filling his plate. He was too focused on what I was grabbing to take care of his own.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket, sets the food aside, and strides out of the room.

“Earth to Violet,” Amanda says.

I jerk back around, my face heating. “Sorry. What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m good at suppressing pain. I’m good at minimizing my emotions. So I do just that, shoving everything down, and slowly eat my breakfast. My stomach roils.

Steele comes over and takes the seat beside me. He grins at me. “Hey, Violet.”

Oh, yeah. I’m mad at him for going along with Greyson’s stupid ploy to try and make things worse for me. If that was even a thing. Maybe Steele actually was apologizing, and Grey just decided to twist it.

Unsure, I eat in silence and ignore Steele. I ignore everyone, then dump my plate. I grab a coffee from the in-hotel café and return to the room. Greyson isn’t here, and my head still hurts.

I pop another painkiller and set my drink and phone on the nightstand, then flop onto the bed that we didn’t sleep on. My phone immediately buzzes, rattling in place. I reach for it and sigh. A blocked number.

Either a telemarketer or my mother, I’d be willing to bet.

“Hello?”

There’s a second of silence.

“Hello?” I repeat.

“Violet Reece?” A woman. I don’t recognize her voice, but she sounds rather professional. Not in a sell-you-something way or the trying to contact you about your car’s extended warranty way.

“This is her,” I say carefully. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Martha Sanders,” she says. “I’m Senator Devereux’s assistant.”

I sit up so abruptly, the room tilts. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to lose my breakfast in my lap. What the hell does he want with me?

“Um… Okay,” I reply weakly. “How can I help you?”

“Greyson has informed us that you’re attending Crown Point University.”

I bite my lip, then force myself to release it. I can’t help my tone when I reply, “Yes. And I’ve been here since I was a freshman.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “You see, we didn’t expect to run into this… complication.”

I don’t answer. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? How is it my fault that they sent Greyson to the same school I attend…?

“Here’s the thing, Violet. We believe that Greyson would do better without distractions. He’s working toward the NHL, did he tell you that?”