Things I Wanted To Say: Chapter 37

I DON’T EVEN KNOW where I’m going in this gigantic, gaudy house, but I know I need to get far, far away from Whit, after what I just witnessed.

Whit wrapped up in a girl. Leighton Michaels, who just so happens to be the owner of said gaudy house. She’s stunning. Goes to Harvard. Has a huge social media following and is seen at all the top fashion shows. She dresses impeccably and has a carefully cultivated image. She is better than me by leaps and bounds.

Like…I can’t even compete.

I hurry up a back staircase, my heels clacking loudly against the marble steps, but I don’t care. I’m sure he gave up chasing after me real quick. Why does it matter?

Why do I matter? I don’t. I’m sure I don’t.

I find a closed door and I test the handle, pushing my way inside with ease. I slide my hand on the wall until I find a light switch and turn it on to find I’m in a nondescript bedroom. There is literally a bed, a dresser and a single bedside table with a lamp. That’s it. It looks like a freaking jail cell compared to the opulence I’ve seen in this house.

Probably a room for someone on staff. Rude of me to think, but most likely true. People as rich as Leighton Michaels’ family have plenty of staff, and don’t offer them much luxury.

I collapse on the edge of the bed and wipe the back of my hand against my eyes, sopping up my tears. Why am I even crying? I knew this would happen eventually. He always implied he couldn’t be loyal. Oh, he expected me to not even look in another guy’s direction but he could fuck whoever he wanted.

Looks like he finally found someone else.

Fresh tears start and I cover my face. After what happened last night. Earlier. I guess I expected more, which is foolish of me considering nothing really happened. There have been no declarations of love or even caring. Nothing like that because I don’t matter to him. Not like that.

I’m an idiot. A fool to think I could fit in with these people.

Sniffing loudly, I drop my hands. Wipe at my tears before I rub my damp hands on the comforter I’m sitting on. I glance around the room, wishing I had my phone so I could text Sylvie or even better? Call an Uber and get myself out of here.

But where would I go? I don’t want to go back to the Lancaster estate, but it’s not like I have a choice.

I wish I could find Sylvie. Earlier when Spencer approached and I saw the look on her face when she saw him, I decided to give them a little privacy. I set off in search of Whit and boy, did I find him.

With a beautiful woman wrapped all around him, looking ready to devour him whole. He wasn’t pushing her away either. He was looking at her with an almost pleading expression, and at the last second, he glanced up, his gaze meeting mine. I saw the shock there. And the guilt.

Busted.

He’s the worst. Seriously, why did I think he could be faithful? He has no reason to be. I’m nothing to him. While he’s become everything to me.

I hate myself for caring so much. I really, really do.

Sighing, I rise to my feet and make my way to the door, opening it slowly and peeking outside to see if anyone is in the hall. With the coast clear, I step out of the room and carefully shut the door, glancing to my right to find someone emerging from the room next to mine. I come to a complete stop, my heart racing at getting caught.

By a boy who looks about my age or a little older, with a curious expression on his face when he spots me. Dark, longish hair. Pouty lips. Fashionable black glasses. He’s clad in dark rinse, stiff looking jeans and a tweed jacket slung over a black polo shirt. Terrible fashion. Only someone who doesn’t give a damn and is ultra-rich would wear something that awful.

“Aw, aren’t you sad, little beauty?” he croons when he spots me. “What’s your name?”

I take a step back, pressing myself against the door. Wishing I could disappear. “Who are you?”

“I asked first,” he says pleasantly as he approaches.

I watch him warily, completely untrusting. I only had one shot earlier, so I’m definitely not drunk. And I refuse to put myself in a situation like the one I experienced at Halloween. My defenses are completely up and sirens are going off in my head at being alone with a complete stranger.

“I’m lost,” is what I say with a faint smile. “I think I got turned around. This house is so big.”

“Easy to do if you’re not familiar with it.” He leans against the wall directly in front of me, his gaze raking over me from head to toe. “I don’t recognize you, and I know everyone at these shitty parties my sister hosts.”

Oh crap. I do know who this guy is. It’s Montgomery Michaels the fourth. Monty Michaels is brilliant and goes to MIT. I think he’s a senior in college now? A bit eccentric, from what I’ve heard.

Not that I personally know him.

“This is your house?” I ask, feeling like an idiot.

“Correction. This is my parents’ house. I just happen to live here on occasion.” He smiles, and it’s friendly. Not menacing at all. “Tell me your name.”

“Summer,” I admit.

“Like the season?”

I nod and sniff, a wave of emotion cresting over me, weakening my defenses.

“Oh no. Don’t start crying. I don’t know what to do with emotional girls,” he says, sounding panicked.

“Don’t you have two sisters?” I ask, wiping at the errant tears streaking down my face.

“I do. And I avoid them at all costs,” he says so seriously, I can’t help but start to laugh, which in turn causes him to smile. “Please don’t cry. Why are you sad?”

A laugh escapes me, though it sounds more like a cry. “What else? A boy.”

He frowns. “Boys are the worst. But I love them. Don’t you?”

“I suppose.” An ally, I think to myself as I contemplate him, noting the sincerity in his gaze, how he’s so focused on me. As if I matter to him, which is silly. We’re practically strangers. “Why are you back here and not at the party?”

“I hate parties. I’m more of a one-on-one person,” he admits.

My smile is weak. “Same.”

“Tell me now. What boy upset you?” he asks softly.

I can tell he’s genuinely curious. It’s in the way he watches me, as if he wants to fix my problems. Or maybe I’m reading too much into this conversation, I don’t know.

All I know is he’s the first friendly face I’ve seen in a while, and I want to confess all of my deep, dark secrets to him.

“You might not know him…” My voice drifts.

“I know pretty much everyone in this house. And there are currently hundreds of people here. Though I suppose I don’t know you.” He mock scowls at me. “Tell me now. Who did you come with?”

“Sylvie Lancaster,” I answer.

His entire face lights up. “Love her. Is her gorgeous brother here too? God, that boy is exquisite. Such fine bone structure.”

I nod, my lower lip trembling.

“Please don’t tell me he’s the one who broke your heart.” He frowns.

A single tear falls from the corner of my eye and I dash it away.

“You don’t need to answer.” He sighs. “Whit Lancaster is absolutely divine. But he’s also the absolute worst.”

“Terrible,” I agree with a little hiccup.

“Gorgeous though. Those eyes. The cheekbones. The faintly sinister expression always on his face, as if he’s plotting your death and you’ll smile the entire time as he murders you. Why do I always like them when they look so mean?” he asks himself.

“I have the same problem,” I admit, and we both laugh.

“Don’t let him bother you. He’s not worth your tears, baby doll.” He stops directly in front of me and reaches out, wiping away the single tear that’s making its slow descent down my cheek. “Want me to accompany you downstairs?”

The hopeful look on my face says it all, I’m sure. “You would do that for me? I thought you hated parties.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also a sucker for a damsel in distress.” He gives me another look, then gestures toward the door he just came out of. “We need to clean you up first.”

“Is this your room?” I ask as he reaches for the door handle.

He tips his head back and laughs. “No, darling. This is the servants’ wing. It’s where I meet my secret hook ups.”

My mouth drops open. “You had a secret hook up? With who?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret.” The sly smile on Monty’s face makes me smile in return. “Let’s just say he’s a testosterone-filled jock with a player reputation, yet he secretly loves sucking dick.”

Oh dear. That is quite the secret. I can think of a few people at my school who would fit that jock description. “College or high school?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, and I definitely don’t mess around with high schoolers,” he says with a tilt of his nose as he cracks open the door. “Teen boys come too fast anyway.”

Hmm. Monty has never been with a teen like Whit Lancaster then.

He offers his arm and I hook mine through it, letting him lead me inside.

It’s nice to find another friend.

Twenty minutes later and I’m descending the stairs with Monty escorting me, his arm still looped in mine as we each survey the scene laid out before us. He helped clean me up and set me to rights, giving me a pep talk the entire time on how I’m going to handle Whit, and then demanded we go greet the subjects.

That’s what he calls the guests in his home. The subjects.

I’m kind of in love with him already. He has so much confidence. He flat out doesn’t give a shit what people think of him, though I suppose his name and his breeding has something to do with that. I wish I had even an ounce of his confidence within me.

Maybe if I hang around him long enough, his attitude will rub off.

Once we step off the staircase, everyone clamors around Monty, most of them casting me curious looks since they have no idea who I am. When they ask about me, he claims I’m his guest and that’s all he says.

It makes them want to know more, I can tell. But he shuts them down if they ask about me. And I don’t say a word. I just stand there with a mysterious smile on my face, my gaze everywhere, desperate to find Whit.

God, I’m so stupid. Why would I want to find him? He’ll just destroy me anyway. He’s probably with that girl. Monty’s sister. Leighton. They’re probably fucking right now, while he’s telling me I need to walk around this party with his cum coating the inside of my thighs like he owns me.

I hate him. I do.

“Darling, your lip is curling, as if someone just shat their pants,” Monty warns, his mouth close to my ear as he leans in to whisper to me. People are talking all around us, some are even speaking directly to him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Keep your composure. Whit has entered the room.”

My legs want to give out and I lock my knees, clutching Monty’s arm as I do my best to twist my lips into a faint smile.

“There you go. Chin up,” Monty encourages. I glance over at him to find he’s looking to his left, a pleased expression on his face. “Ah, he’s headed this way. Act like a princess, love. You’re above this. You’re above him.”

My chin goes up and I stare down my nose at the people surrounding us, my smile turning real. Mysterious. I duck my head toward Monty, my gaze fond as I look at him and he smiles at me in return. As if we’re old, dear friends.

We’re good, Monty and me. I feel like I’ve found a kindred spirit.

The air suddenly shifts, becoming charged. I feel his presence before I see him. Every hair on my body rises, goose bumps following swiftly.

“Montgomery.” The voice is familiar. Dark.

Devastating.

“Whittaker,” Monty says, amusement lacing his tone. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, darling? You appear ready to breathe fire.”

Whit literally bares his teeth at Monty before sliding his fiery gaze to me. “You’re with my date, Monty. And you know I don’t like to share.”

The crowd surrounding us goes silent. My lips part in surprise, but no sound comes out.

Did Whit really just publicly claim me as his date?

Monty laughs, his arm squeezing around mine. “You were always selfish with your toys, Whit.”

“I haven’t changed. I’m still selfish. Give me back my toy,” Whit demands, his deep voice wrapping all around me, leaving me feeling weak. “What you’re currently holding onto, belongs to me.”

“Don’t you mean who?” Monty chides as he turns to look at me. “Don’t mind him. He has the most boorish manners sometimes. It’s almost as if he were raised by wolves.”

“I was. Feral ones who’ll slit your skinny throat with their teeth.” Whit reaches for me, his fingers casually locking around my wrist and tugging me toward him. But Monty won’t let me go. Not yet. “She’s not your type, Monty.”

“Oh I know, but she’s a beauty.” Monty’s gaze is filled with longing as he studies me. “You’re such a lucky girl. Does he ravish you every night?”

I don’t answer him. I’m sure the look I send him is answer enough.

Monty lets go of me at the same time Whit pulls on my arm, and I go to Whit easily. He wraps his arm around my waist, his fingers spread wide across my butt as he holds me to him. It’s a possessive gesture. I feel as if I’ve been claimed.

I don’t mind.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Whit says to Monty, sounding sincere.

“I will watch over your precious toy whenever you need me. She’s an absolute doll.” Monty waves his fingers at me. “Enjoy him tonight, my sweet little season. I have a feeling he’ll be extra feral. Watch the teeth though!”

Whit escorts me away from Monty and his group before I can respond, practically dragging me out of the cavernous room. We rush down a hall, neither of us speaking, my breaths coming faster and faster as worry consumes me.

He’s angry. But I did nothing wrong. And if he accuses me of something—of anything—I’m not going to stand for it.

I’m not.

“Whit,” I protest, but he ignores me. I try to slow down, but he’s moving so fast, his momentum keeps me going, until I finally stumble into him, my entire body pressed against his side.

He turns, pulling me into his arms and roughly pushes me against the wall. I wait for him to kiss me. Grope me. Whatever it is he feels the need to do.

But he does none of that.

Instead, he slips two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to look at him.

“It isn’t what you think.”

I study his face, how calm he appears. A war wages inside of me. I could hurl insults and accuse him of terrible things. I could cry and carry on and act like a jealous lover.

I do none of those things.

“What happened then?” My voice is even. As if I’m completely unfazed.

“Leighton and I…we have history,” he admits.

Now I am a jealous lover. I hate hearing that.

“And she’s very persistent when she wants to be. I wasn’t interested. She threw herself at me. Even vaguely threatened me.” A storm stirs in his eyes. One moment dark and threatening, the next moment gone. “Leticia is here.”

My heart goes into freefall at just hearing her name. “Your future wife.”

“My future nothing,” he reiterates through clenched teeth. “No one determines my future. Not anymore.”

I blink at him, surprised by the vehemence in his tone.

“Leighton was all over you,” I say.

“That’s correct. She was all over me, not the other way around.” He removes his fingers from my chin to smooth back a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. I shudder at his gentle touch, confused. “It was nothing. I ran after you, but I lost you.”

“I was fast, despite the shoes.” My smile is faint.

“And you ran into Monty.”

“Isn’t he wonderful?” I ask with a dreamy smile. “My new best friend.”

“Don’t tell Sylvie that. She’ll be jealous.” The answering smile on Whit’s face is a surprise.

“No one could replace Sylvie. But I adore Monty.”

“He’s ruthless.”

My lips part in surprise. “He’s sweet.”

“If he likes you. Or respects you,” Whit says. “We’ve had a tentative relationship since we were children. I’ve always been wary of him.”

“He’s enamored with you. Called you, and I quote, ‘exquisite,’” I tell Whit, laughing when I see the scowl.

“He would say something like that,” he murmurs, his expression thunderous.

“He’s not wrong. He also mentioned you have beautiful bone structure.” Feeling daring, I touch Whit’s cheek. “And he’s right. You do.” My fingers drift down his face. Across his mouth. “An aristocratic face. I see why your parents are so insistent you marry well. You have to keep up the appearances with a beautiful wife. You two would need to make equally beautiful children who look the part.”

“Fuck that.” He grabs my wrist, keeping my fingers on his lips. “I don’t care what they think.”

It’s all lies. He cares. Too much. It’s his family name. His legacy. He doesn’t want to disappoint them.

Whit parts his lips, his fingers loosening around my wrist as he draws my fingers into his mouth. “I don’t like it when you run away from me,” he admits.

I watch him, completely transfixed. The flicker of his tongue as he curls it around my finger, his eyes only for me. Something deep inside me catches fire and I let out a shaky breath as I keep my focus on his face. His mouth.

His beautiful, terrible, wonderful mouth.

“You want to leave?” he asks, his deep voice wrapping all around me. My breasts feel heavy and my core throbs at the promise in that question.

“What about Sylvie?”

“I’ll text Spencer. Tell him to bring her home.” He drops my hand and leans in, his mouth brushing against mine as he speaks. “Let’s go, Savage.”