Thorne Princess(115)

“It was more of a mutual decision,” I lied, searching desperately for the waiter so I could signal for the check. “He wanted to go back to Chicago, and this happened on the heels of everything with you guys, and I just…I wanted to be alone. Completely alone. And the only reason I’d ever agreed to have him babysit me in the first place was because I depended on your money. Which is not the case anymore.”

It was also one of the reasons why I would never take a dime from them again. The feeling attached to it made my skin crawl.

Mom nodded. “You seemed to have gotten along fine.”

Hera tried to catch my gaze. I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about him. His name alone did awful, delicious things to my stomach, even now. I hated how I missed him. Missed him despite everything.

“I rolled with the punches,” I said finally.

“I met with him the other day,” Dad said conversationally. I felt his gaze on my face, and I couldn’t help it. I broke down and peered at him, every cell in my body thirsty to hear more.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “He is opening a cybersecurity department. I promised I’d help him.”

“I hope he’s doing well,” I said cautiously. I meant every word of it. I did hope he was well. Even if it was without me.

“He’s a hard guy to read.”

“Hmm.”

“He asked about you.” Dad picked up his glass. Swirled the imported beer inside it. My heart raced dangerously.

“Yeah?” My voice was high-pitched. Different.

“I told him I had no idea. That you cut us all off.”

“And how did he respond?” I no longer tried to feign indifference.

Dad stared ahead, pinning me with a look. “He looked proud.”

“You had something special with this man, didn’t you?” Mom sniffed.

“Oh, Mom, shut up. This is so over the line!” I cupped my face, channeling the bratty teenager I never had the chance to be.

“I’m not saying it was romantic!” Mom screeched. “Just that you seemed to deeply care for each other. I remember him being very protective of you.”

“Uh, duh! He was my bodyguard. Can we talk about something else?”

“Yes!” Hera announced with a flourish. “Let’s talk about how I want a divorce party! One with a funny cake and empowering movies and cocktails! Cocktails with sugar in them! I want to go wild.”

I laughed.

For the first time, I felt like I had a family.

A dysfunctional, weird family.

But a family, nonetheless.





Three months later.



“What I’m hearing is, we will be your first stab at campus security.” Dax Gorsuch, the insufferable human answer for a fart, AKA the provost of Clarence University, Chicago, sat in front of me in my boardroom. He looked so full of himself, as if all I’d need was a pin to make him burst and bleed liquid ego.

I felt Tom’s eyes land on me. I was the one who handled potential clients. Tom wasn’t good at public speaking. Or, you know, at speaking in general, for that fucking matter.

“No.” Tom cleared his throat finally, when he realized I wasn’t going to say anything. “That’s incorrect, sir. We actually have extensive experience with securing large events and parties. We are experts at access control, security assessment, systems monitoring, and preventive hallway and parking lot intervention.”

“It’s going to be bad.” Gorsuch stroked his wobbly chin, drumming his fingers on my custom oval wooden table, leaving marks. “We’re bringing in this whacky, extremist political news personality. He’ll bring his own security, but we’re already seeing demonstrations on campus. It’ll get violent. One hundred percent. And I really don’t want a lawsuit on my hands.”

The words went in one ear and right out the other. I couldn’t give two shits about this lecture at Clarence University. All I could think about—all I’d been thinking about—in the past seven months was Hallie Fucking Thorne.

Her scent.

Her smile.

Her ink.

The goddamn doodles she left everywhere. I was a man possessed, and I couldn’t have a straight thought without her tainting it. She haunted me during the day and came to me at night. I couldn’t escape her. And I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to forget about her.

That was what she wanted. She told me to stay away. So I did.

Through the fog in my head, I could hear Tom stuttering a lackluster answer to Gorsuch.

“…train our bodyguards to make the safest decision at any given time. We’ve dealt with many situations where high-profile media personalities were under threat in the past. Isn’t that right, Ransom?”

My name was more spat than said. I shot him a sidelong glance. If looks could kill, I’d be slumped on my crème leather upholstery chair, suffering eighteen gunshot wounds.

I finally ripped myself out of my haze and pinned Gorsuch with a vicious glare.

“Look, you’re here, which means that you’ve pretty much already decided who you’re going with. Rightly so. We’re the best in Chicago, and we have federal contracts to testify to that fact. We’re not going to sit here and list the reasons why you should hire us. Now, here’s the part where you want to call us out on our hubris. That’s fine. Take your business elsewhere. Just put aside the money for the lawyers, settlement fees, and mediation for when something happens on campus and dozens of lawsuits get shoved up your ass.” I buttoned my blazer with one hand, to the stunned face of the provost. “Have a nice day.” I walked out.