Brutal Obsession (94)

Well, she will have her career.

We’re going to make sure that happens.

The first time I read it, I was pissed. It appeared in physical print. Dad tried to squash it, but there wasn’t much he could do after it caught fire. Online media outlets picked it up and ran with it, and all eyes were on me.

And then… it fizzled. Like all things eventually do.

Once that happened, it was easy to get it removed from searches and from people’s memories. There’s always something new and flashy that comes along and diverts attention.

I’ve reread it a few times since, if only to remind myself of what can happen if I’m not careful.

But then my eye catches on the second to last paragraph, and I pause.

Though the world will soon forget Greyson Devereux’s role as the antagonist of Ms. Reece’s life, she has supporters who won’t. The ballet community stands behind her.

No shit.

I squint at the screen and contemplate jostling her awake. She seems peaceful, though. And it’s late.

Hunches and theories can wait until the morning.

My mind spins, though. Does she have supporters who would bring my past out of the woodwork? Does she have superfans who would… do anything for her?

And how mad would they be that she’s with me?

I hug her tighter to my side.

I’m worrying for nothing… or so I hope.





41





VIOLET





Something is wrong. I reach for Grey—he’s reverted back to that in my mind, seemingly overnight—but his side of the bed is cold. There’s a dent in his pillow where his head was, but he’s gone.

Instead of just assuming he went to the bathroom, I sit up. My stomach somersaults. I grab one of his t-shirts and slide his sweatpants over my hips, because if I’m going searching for him, I sure as hell don’t want to run into one of his roommates half-naked.

So… dressing in his clothes seemed like the better option.

I quickly scrub at my teeth with my finger and toothpaste in the hall bathroom, then follow the sounds to the kitchen. I pause on the last step and try to hear what two voices are saying.

“I think she has a stalker,” Greyson says.

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Maybe you’re blowing this a little out of proportion.” Knox, I’d guess. Maybe Miles.

The two brothers have similar tones.

“I’m not. Look.”

I really wish I knew what he was showing him and not me. Especially if I’m the one with a stalker? Really? It’s ridiculous.

I stride into the kitchen. “The only one stalking me is you,” I inform him.

Grey’s gaze lands on me. He meets my eyes, then sweeps down my body. Back up.

Miles leans on the kitchen counter, arms crossed. His attention bounces between the two of us. “Kissed and made up, then?”

I smile tightly and don’t answer.

“Yep,” Grey says. “Can you give us a minute?”

Miles rolls his eyes. He grabs the mug that sat next to his elbow and shuffles out of the room. I step aside to let him pass, still feeling that weird, off sensation. It’s not him, but it’s… maybe it’s being here. In this house.

“A stalker?” I question.

He comes to me and takes my hands, easily pulling me into him. My arms automatically wrap around his waist, and he hugs me tightly. I rest my head on his chest. His heart is going crazy, but outwardly he seems calm. His lips touch the top of my head.

“I’ve realized something,” he says in my hair.

“Please, do share.”

“We’re on the same side.”

Oh.

Oh.

I pull back and meet his gaze again. He seems one hundred percent serious, and I… I don’t know what to do with that. He just decided that we’re on the same side? After the last few months of hell…

“Vi, listen.” He walks me over to the counter and lifts me so I’m sitting on it. He pours me a cup of coffee and adds a pretty decent amount of hazelnut creamer from the fridge. Just the way I like it. When he brings it back and curls my fingers around the mug, he just smiles. “I pay attention.”

“And that’s how you’ve deduced that I have a stalker who isn’t you.”

“Yep.” He inclines his chin. “But let’s be honest with each other. For real.”

I swallow at the lump in my throat. “Okay,” I whisper.

“I’m going to tell my father to fuck off the first chance I get.” His palms land on my thighs, spreading them to step even closer. “I’ll take care of the therapy. It’s… it’s the least I can do for you.”

My eyes are fucking burning. I set aside the coffee and grip his neck with both hands. I don’t know how to convey my gratitude… and shame that he has to offer in the first place.

“You’re going to tell me everything that happened around the accident,” he says. “The hospital, who visited you, the doctors—all of it.”

And then he’ll know about his father coming and forcing me to sign the NDA. It was right after that article came out. I wanted to sue the Devereuxes for personal injury, since Greyson was allowed to walk away so easily. Instead, I was threatened with a countersuit for defamation.