||Vicious||

Chapter 13

The Present

I WASN'T GONNA DO IT.

At this point, I didn't even care about the money. I'd never cared too much for it anyway. Sure, I wanted to survive, maybe take a breather from chasing overdrafts, but at what cost?

Nope, I wasn't going to ruin anyone else's life with a lie. Ever. I wasn't Vicious.

I spent my night lying in bed, thinking and analyzing the last few hours. There was a lot to take in. Vicious wanted me to lie and tell Jo straight to her face that if it came down to it, I would testify against her, telling the court he'd told me things he never had.

I was a horrible liar. But a little voice inside me kept asking—and what if it is the truth? The answer was always the same—even if it was the truth, it wasn't my truth. There were other ways Vicious could get what he wanted without dragging me into his war.

At four in the morning, I finally kicked off my blanket and slipped into my flip-flops. I knew there was no chance I was going to fall asleep after deciding I wouldn't help him, so I might as well just read. I remembered the library I'd always wanted to visit over the years.

This was probably my last chance to see it before Vicious kicked my family and me out. And it's the place I've been avoiding for ten years straight, always wondering, aching, and peeking through these doors. But no more. I wanted to see what's behind them.

I was done with his blackmail. Done with being bought.

This time, his money would lose.

I entered the mansion through the kitchen, using Mama's security code. It was still the same ten years later.

I tiptoed to the hall, clad in the XL Libertines shirt I called my pajamas, and headed down the ironwood floor, following the same route I had that first time I'd gone to knock on the library door. Vicious would be fast asleep upstairs. I'd read a little, inhale the scent of the old books, calm my nerves, and go back to my parents' place.

I was silent. Which was why my shriek almost rattled the walls when I pushed the door to the library open and found Vicious in one corner, sitting at an ornately carved wooden table with four upholstered wing-back chairs. It looked like a study table you'd see in public library, only much fancier.

He lifted his eyes from the screen of his laptop at my yelp and stared at me long and hard for a few beats, until my racing heart calmed a little. Then, wordlessly, he pushed the chair opposite him with his foot in a silent invitation for me to join him. I didn't move.

"What are you doing up so late?" My voice trembled.

"What are you doing trespassing in the middle of the fucking night?" he retorted, his voice calm and tired.

He'd changed into a white designer V-neck and a pair of dark denim pants or jeans. I didn't need to see them to know they hung low on his body.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd read a little. Never mind." I spun around, heading back toward the hallway.

He stopped me. "Help." His voice was firm. I halted, but didn't turn around. "Grab a book. I promise not to make conversation."

I rubbed my thighs and mentally scoffed at the idea of joining him. Especially after how he'd acted in the car.

"I'm resigning," I said, my back still to him. It was easier that way. I always caved when his eyes held mine. "I can't do what you're asking me to do. Please don't try and threaten me with my parents or Rosie or with starting a third World War. I've made up my mind. I can't lie for you."