Chapter 17: The Forbidden Note: Chapter 17

“Let me take that for you.” Zane wraps his long, wicked fingers around my mother’s coffee mug and pushes back from the table.

“Thank you, Zane. Aren’t you just a sweetheart?” Mom beams at him, falling under his spell.

She has no idea how evil he is.

How depraved.

How despicable.

If she did, would she be throwing heart eyes in his direction? Would she be patting his back like he’s a good boy?

“What about you, Miss Jamieson?” Zane’s eyes burn into me, and I can tell he’s thinking about the shower. “Is there anything you want?”

“No,” I grind out.

His gaze drops to my lips, his hot stare as heavy as his hands around my throat. The memory is thick, visceral. And it makes me tremble with a desperate, aching need.

It’s filthy.

Probably unlawful.

And yet it’s persistent.

I can’t help how much I want him.

How much I hate him.

How much the two blend in a sharp swirl of pain.

If I didn’t have Sloane’s case binding me here, I’d probably run. Far from this city. Far from Redwood Prep. Far from Zane freaking Cross.

Not because I lack self-control.

Because he’s showing me that I’m as much of a monster as those behind Sloane’s murder. An unscrupulous authority figure. One who indulges in her own passions. Tramples on laws. Dances over the grave of propriety.

The night we met, I genuinely had no idea he was only eighteen and a student in high school. But what’s my excuse for trembling under his touch and pressing my naked body to his now?

I hate who I’m becoming.

And yet, I can’t stop the transformation as much as a werewolf during full moon.

The only defense I had against Zane was distance.

And now…

Now my biggest temptation—

The boy with the sky-blue eyes who can undo everything that matters to me—

Is sleeping down the hall.

“Gracie, are you alright?” Mom asks.

“Huh?” I glance up distractedly.

“You usually tear into chocolate chip pancakes.” Mom tilts her chin and says proudly to Zane and Finn, “She eats like a horse. Don’t let that slim frame fool you.”

“Mom.” I groan.

“I didn’t know that,” Zane says.

“No?”

“Miss Jamieson never eats with us at lunch.”

“Gracie, why don’t you eat with your brothers?”

I cringe. Why does she keep calling them my brothers? “Teachers don’t eat with students, mom.”

“Yes, they do.” Zane arches a brow.

“You should eat with them on occasion,” Mom says. “Family bonding is good.”

“Yes, it’ll be good to bond.”

My eyes zip to Zane and narrow. We don’t need any more ‘bonding’. Especially not the naked kind.

Soul bonds? Those are a different thing. I’ve heard that every time someone has sex, their soul bonds with their partner. If so, Zane probably has a million different souls attached to his.

I’m just one of many.

I drag my gaze back to the eggs.

“Here you go. Strong coffee. Two creams. Two sugars.” Zane sets the cup on the table.

His biceps flex as he bends over mom and gives her a charming smile. The tips of his hair are slightly damp from the shower and the way it hangs over his face makes my fingers itch to brush them back.

“You sweet thing.” Mom pinches his cheeks.

It’s so weird seeing her coo to Zane like he’s a baby. I’m surprised that he’s allowing her. The Cross brothers are menaces at Redwood Prep. They part crowds and send freshmen skittering into hiding places. With their tats, muscular chests and dark personas, they don’t seem like the type who’d appreciate mom’s form of coddling.

But Zane smiles at mom.

And Finn seems amused by her coddling.

Zane takes the seat right across from me, looking smug.

I bristle in discomfort. He’s all the way across the table and yet he’s all over me. I can still feel the cool tile at my back, the heat of the shower, his tongue on my neck, his rough fingers grazing my face.

Zane’s eyes linger on me and the tension begins to creep around the table.

I clear my throat and glance away. My gaze catches on Finn. The adopted Cross brother is watching everything closely. His true thoughts are hidden behind his ice-cold expression.

I’ve noticed that he doesn’t speak much. That’s more frightening than I care to admit.

Has Zane told him about us?

I’ve always suspected, but now I get the feeling that the brothers have definitely talked about me. At length.

The thought is horrifying.

Mom pinches Zane’s sleeve. “Young man, I still don’t understand how you got your uniform all wet. It’s like you ran through the rain.”

“I checked out the water pressure in the bathroom,” Zane says, eyes sliding over me. “And then things got a little… wet.”

My mouth flattens into a hard, thin line.

I press my palms on the table. “Thanks for the food, mom. We should get going or we’ll be late for school.”

“Oh, sit down and finish your plate, Gracie. You still have time.”

“Yeah, Gracie, stay.”

“Do not call me that,” I snap.

“Her friends call her Grey,” mom informs him. “She hates when anyone calls her Gracie, but it was a childhood nickname, so I can’t let it go.”

“Grey, huh?” Zane’s eyes glint in my direction.

“Sit, sit.” Mom waits until I claim my seat again.

“This food is amazing, Ms. Marian. Best I’ve ever had,” Zane says.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t that right, Finn?” Zane elbows him.

Finn nods.

“Forgive him,” Zane chats easily. “He’s a bassist. Has to keep things mysterious.”

Mom gasps in excitement. “Oh, that’s right! You three have a band, don’t you?”

“It’s four of us actually,” Zane says, staking his fork into pancakes. “We’re called The Kings.”

“I’d love to hear you play.”

“We have a set next month,” Zane says.

“You know…” Mom wiggles her eyebrows. “I used to do a little singing in my day.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom.”

“What? It’s true? I thought I’d be a singer-songwriter. Had big dreams of heading to a big city and changing the game. And then I had Gracie.” She smiles softly at me. “Now, I only sing in the shower and while I’m working around the house.”

“You should sing in one of our sets,” Zane offers.

My eyes widen in surprise.

Mom looks touched. “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

Suspicious, I stare at him. Why is he being so nice to my mom?

“I’ve never performed in front of an audience before. What if I don’t do well?”

“Dutch’s wi—girlfriend,” Zane corrects himself, “has severe stage fright, but he got her on stage and she managed to play with us. We’ll take care of you.”

Finn grunts in agreement.

Mom giggles. “I’ve got to break out my boa and practice my runs.”

“You know they play rock, right, mom?” I say a little snottily. “It’s a totally different sound.”

“So?” Zane tilts his chin up in challenge. “Aretha Franklin is the queen of soul and she did plenty of rock covers. Music is a language that everybody can understand, no matter the colour of their skin…” his eyes pierce mine, “or their age.”

“That’s right. Listen to that boy, Gracie. He can teach you a thing or two.”

Zane chomps on a strip of bacon. “Don’t worry. I already have.”

“Mom, how long are the boys staying for?”

“Until they move to college.” Mom blinks. “Why?”

Dread pooling in my veins, I shoot to my feet again. “I’m heading to school.”

“I’m—” Zane starts to get up.

Finn grabs his shoulder and drives him back down in his seat.

I take that opportunity to flee.

Grabbing my purse, I shoot out the door and hoof it to the nearest bus station.

My car is in the shop. Mom offered to buy me a new one, but I don’t want to. Not having a car actually helps me out when I want to do after-hours sleuthing at Redwood. Nothing screams ‘Miss Jamieson is here’ like my rusty car parked in the lot late at night. It’s better when I don’t take it.

I walk a distance to catch a bus since there are none in this fancy, gated community.

By the time I get on, I’m sweating.

I check my phone.

There are no new messages from Jarod Cross.

Quickly, I type:

Any news from your friend?

There’s no response.

The bus stops close to Redwood and I get off. Sunshine hits the top of my head and I fan my face to cool down.

Kids in the Redwood Prep uniforms swarm the lawn and huddle in groups on the front steps.

“Good morning,” I say, throwing a welcoming nod at a set of cheerleaders.

I’m met with dark scowls. Youthful eyes cut sharply into me as if they want to slice my skin from my bones.

I blink once. Twice.

Weird.

“Good morning,” I say to a group of guys this time.

They, too, give me weird looks, their eyes sliding down to my skirt.

My fingers tighten around my satchel.

I enter through the double doors and, the moment I step into the hallway, the entire corridor goes quiet. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard such a sharp silence in the halls of Redwood.

No one moves.

No one speaks.

It feels like no one is even breathing.

I take a step.

Another.

Another.

The unholy hush sweeps down the corridor as far as the eyes can see. Students back away from me, cell phones clutched in their hands and eyes tracking my every move.

My chest tightens.

My breathing turns shaky.

What is going on?

Feeling like there’s something on my clothes, I hurry to the bathroom and check my outfit. I’m wearing a simple blue button-down blouse tucked into a thigh-length pencil skirt. I paired that with my usual black pumps.

There are no rips in my blouse, no missing buttons in my shirt, my panties aren’t showing.

So why is everyone staring?

Fearfully, I navigate to Jinx’s app.

Is there something about me there?

I refresh the page.

There’s nothing. Only a few posts about Dutch and Cadence, another post about Redwood’s masquerade ball, and an exposé about two cheerleaders found stoned under the bleachers.

Jinx hasn’t written a post about me.

So what could it be?

I merge back into the hallway, fighting to ignore all the stares.

Maybe it’s all in my head?

Or maybe I won an award for something?

A familiar face walks past me.

“Vanya,” I blurt.

“Miss Jamieson?” She jumps, nearly splattering her papers.

“Can I see your cell phone?”

“Um…” She curls her fingers around the device.

“Please,” I beg.

Slowly, she offers the phone to me. Expertly, I navigate to the previous tab.

That’s when I see it.

A private article.

Three words jump out at me.

Redwood’s Newest Romance.

And below… is a picture of me and Zane.