Devious Vow: Chapter 22

Ten years ago:

I knew this was a bad idea.

The second I see him, I disappear back into the crowd. Music thuds from the big speakers near where the DJ is set up in the kitchen as I push my way through the partygoers, away from the front door.

Where he just walked in.

I haven’t seen Alistair since the charges were dropped. I’ve been working extremely hard to make sure I don’t. I mean, blue dye in his water bottle got him mad enough to break into my dorm room and dye my freaking shower.

I can’t imagine what the fallout might be from a false sexual assault allegation that was investigated by both the police and the school administration.

And I know he knows that’s because of me.

Demi might have made the actual report. But I’m the source of the lies, and there’s zero chance Alistair doesn’t know that. Especially after the investigation into the other accusations revealed that they were bullshit.

There were no other girls accusing him of trying to assault them in their dorm rooms. I suspected that from the get-go, but had confirmation a week or so into the investigation, when I went to The Order’s on-campus mansion and a snickering Ansel gleefully explained that he’d filed the other two reports anonymously as a way to “prank” Alistair.

Pranks are funny, though. There was nothing funny about the fallout from my lies.

The police came to campus and literally took him down to the station in town. He was suspended from all his classes. The law schools he was considering for after Knightsblood started calling, saying they’d be passing on his applications “in light of the allegations against him”.

Luckily, in the past two weeks, the investigation has exonerated him. I think it helped that I went directly to the Dean of Students and pleaded my case, telling him that in fact I’d invited Alistair to my dorm room. And that later, after we’d had a fight, I’d embellished my story.

The only reason I’m not on probation now, or straight up kicked out of Knightsblood, is that Dean Garnier is an old friend of my father’s.

Papa isn’t very happy with me, of course. Neither is the school. And I imagine Alistair is furious.

My little stunt almost ruined his life.

So instead, I slip through the party until I find the sliding door out to the balcony, where the alcohol is being kept. On paper, the consumption of alcohol is forbidden on the Knightsblood campus. The mansions that house the four clubs get a complete pass on that, of course. As long as things don’t get completely out of hand, the school usually turns a blind eye to other parties as well.

Tonight’s festivities are taking place in “The Penthouse”, a suite housing five senior students at the top of Worthington Tower, a dorm which at twenty stories is the tallest building on campus by far. Because of the views and the way it rises above the rest of the campus, “The Penthouse” has gotten a reputation over the years as being a party spot.

The wind has been howling all day, and tonight it’s picked up even more. I shiver as I step outside, joining a few other partygoers in the weirdly freezing April temperatures. I don’t really drink, but when the guy standing at the keg grins and automatically hands me a beer, I take it anyway. Shivering in the chill, I hug my bare arms around myself, wishing I hadn’t just waltzed out here in only a sleeveless top and the cute, but short, skirt I wore to the party.

“Here—let me warm you up.”

Ansel grins as he steps out onto the balcony and shrugs off his sweatshirt.

“Thanks, but I’m fine⁠—”

“Please. I insist.”

He moves closer, draping his—admittedly super toasty—hoodie around my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I mumble, smiling mechanically.

It’s funny the way things change, and how fast. A few months ago, when Ansel walked right up to little old me flashing that charming smile and telling me he wanted me in The Order, I was smitten. I mean, of course I was. He was gorgeous, popular, powerful, and so cool, three exclamation points.

But things change. Feelings fade. People show you who they really are.

The first incident was when a girl in Junior year, herself a card-carrying member of The Order, invited me over to the mansion to hang out. I walked in looking as cute as I could, hoping to see Prince Charming again.

Hoping he’d tell me again how much he wanted me “in his club”.

I did see him that visit. Unfortunately, he was shirtless and standing in the doorway to his room at the time, making out with a girl wearing the dress she’d clearly gone out in the night before.

That killed the luster just a little bit. A few weeks later, I was unimpressed to spot Ansel at an Order mansion party in a lawn chair on the far side of the pool with a different girl’s head bobbing in his lap.

But what really decided things for me was when he took me aside recently and told me between snickers how he’d heard about my “prank” to frame Alistair for assault. And how he—Ansel, that is—had submitted two more fake reports from “anonymous girls”, alleging the same crimes.

That really, really rubbed me the wrong way. And I’ve been avoiding Ansel ever since.

“No problem,” he grins, nodding at the jacket as he pulls it tighter around me. “It’s part of being in The Order, Eloise. We’re family. We take care of each other.”

“Yeah, no, totally,” I smile awkwardly.

He grins, stepping closer to me. “You know, I’d love to take care of you, Eloise…”

Oh, I bet you would.

“Well, this sweatshirt is perfect,” I say brightly, purposefully playing dumb. “Thanks so much⁠—”

“Listen, Eloise,” he smirks, pulling even closer. “Let’s get outta here. It’s a pretty slow night back at the mansion. We can head back there, grab some drinks…” he winks in what I’m sure to most girls is a charming manner. But not to me anymore. I’ve seen behind the curtain. “See where the night takes us?”

Yeah, right. The night takes us to his bedroom. I’d have to be an idiot not to see that clear as day. A few months ago, I’d have tripped over myself for the chance to hook up with Ansel Albrecht and would have given him my virginity.

But now?

Now that sounds about as appealing as walking back into the party and striking up a conversation with Alistair.

“You know what, Ansel?” I smile pleasantly. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m probably just going to head back to my dorm soon. I’ve got a long day tomorrow⁠—”

“C’mon, Eloise,” he purrs, flashing that “charming” smile at me. “I’ll give you a full tour of the mansion. Even the floors that are off-limits to non-pledged members.”

Lucky me.

“Thanks, Ansel…” I shrug his jacket off and hand it back to him. “Maybe another time.”

I’m starting to walk past him when his hand shoots out to grab my wrist.

“You do understand who I am regarding The Order, right? I mean, you understand that I have the final say in who gets confirmed and who doesn’t?”

Oh, I understand. I also understand that he thinks I’m going to fuck him just to be a part of his little club.

Not happening.

“I do understand that, Ansel,” I smile sweetly, pulling my arm away. “And I look forward to being a part of The Order without resorting to whoring myself out to the guy in charge.”

He falters when I say the quiet part out loud.

“Have a good night,” I mutter, sliding open the door and stepping back into the party.

I wasn’t really planning on going home yet. But suddenly, that’s exactly what I want to do. The wind outside is getting viciously cold, and now I’m kinda bummed out. Plus, I’ve managed to go this long without having to face Alistair and his wrath, and it might be time to go before I push my luck there.

I spot Demi, who I came here with, on one of the couches talking closely to a gorgeous Korean guy. I grin at the blush on her face: Demi’s been crushing on Bang Jin-hu since freshman orientation. His family is one of the most notorious Kkangpae crime families in Seoul, and he’s also apparently a really nice guy. So when I catch Demi’s eye and arch a brow, she just nods.

That’s our unspoken code for me asking if she’s okay with me leaving, and her saying yes.

I grab my too-light jacket and step out of The Penthouse. It’s a lot quieter out in the hallway, away from the music. I push the button for the elevator, listening to the wind howling outside, wishing I’d brought a better coat.

The doors ding open, and as I step in, I hear the party music get louder for a second and then quieter again, followed by the sound of the door to the suite closing. The elevators doors begin to shut, and they’re about three inches from fully closed when a hand reaches through the opening.

“Hold that door?”

“Sure,” I reply, shoving a hand out to push the doors apart.

A tall figure wrapped in a black leather jacket with the collar flipped up slips through the halfway open doors. He slides in just as the doors shut again, shoving a hand through his wild brownish-blonde hair.

“Thanks for⁠—”

He turns to me just as the doors shut.

Fuck.

Me.

The smile evaporates from Alistair’s face as his eyes land on me. He whips around, but the elevator has already rumbled to life and we’re starting to descend.

“You,” he snarls.

I swallow. “I—I’m sorry⁠—”

“For almost ruining my life?!” he spits. “Wow, that means a lot. Go fuck yourself, princess.”

He turns his back to me, shaking his head angrily. He brings a bottle of whisky up to his mouth, taking a big pull.

I frown.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I wasn’t the one who reported⁠—”

“A lie?” he snarls, half glancing at me over his shoulder. “No, your fucking roommate did. Gee, I wonder where she got that lie from?”

I wince. “It was fucked up, I admit that.”

“Fantastic. Still no fucks given over here.”

I glare at his back. “Okay, what I said was hugely exaggerated. But you did break into my dorm room! You could have walked in on me changing, or⁠—”

I shriek as the elevator suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, the lights flickering. The motor whines and makes horrible grinding sounds before going utterly silent. The lights flicker off and on one more time, then turn off completely.

The elevator goes pitch dark.

Holy fuck.

I don’t realize I’m hyperventilating until I jolt when his arm brushes mine.

“Don’t touch me!” I yell, lurching backward. Immediately, I conk the back of my head into the elevator wall.

“You need to stop breathing so fast,” Alister growls. “I’m serious. You’re going to hyperventilate and pass out.”

“I—we’re…we’re…!”

“It’s only temporary,” he sighs. “The wind probably knocked out the power when a branch fell onto a wire. I’m sure there are backup generators, just give it a fucking second.”

He sounds so calm. So unbothered by the fact that we’re trapped maybe seventeen stories up in a tiny elevator car.

“But what if no one can get to us!” I blurt. “What if there is no backup⁠—”

“Will you relax? If you keep that up, you’re going to use up all of our oxygen before they can get to us.”

My heart drops before I suddenly frown.

“That’s not possible.”

He chuckles quietly in the darkness. “No, it’s not.”

“Asshole.”

“Do me a favor and keep that princess trap of yours shut.”

His face is suddenly illuminated by the glow of his cell phone. His eyes find mine, holding my gaze before he turns away.

“Perfect. Here we go.” He opens the little metal door on the wall and pulls the emergency phone out of its cradle. “We’ll just call down and let them know…”

He trails off, his brow furrowing as he taps a button on the phone box. He scowls as he drops the receiver back onto the cradle.

“Dead line,” he mutters.

I yank my cell phone out of my bag. When my eyes land on the screen, I groan.

“No service,” I mutter. “Perfect.”

“Same,” Alistair sighs.

My pulse begins to roar faster.

We’re trapped.

We’re fucking trapped in⁠—

“Breathe, princess,” he murmurs.

“Will you stop calling me⁠—”

“Quit trying to provoke a fight and just breathe, Eloise.”

It might be the first time that Alistair has actually called me Eloise, and not “princess”.

It works. My lungs fill up as I breathe in, and then exhale slowly.

I feel better instantly.

“Here. This’ll help, too.”

He passes me the bottle. I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t really drink…”

“Unless it’s beer, and involves getting cozy on a balcony with Ansel Albrecht?”

My gaze whips around to see him smirking at me.

I sneer a mean smile. “Aww, are you jea-wous, Awistair?”

“Of you? No. I think Ansel is a douchebag with narcissistic tendencies and a micro-penis.”

I snort a laugh, looking away to try to hide it, but failing.

“Seriously, he’s all yours,” he grins.

I roll my eyes. “I mean jealous of him.”

“Why, because he had the incomparable pleasure of Her Majesty the Princess deigning to speak to him? Can’t say that I am.”

I glare at him as he grins at me.

“You’re an asshole,” I mutter.

“You said that. Find new material.”

I purse my lips as I lock eyes with him. God, he’s infuriating.

And yet also…

I shake my head and pull my eyes away.

No. I refuse. I refuse to let myself think that word again when it comes to this arrogant dick.

Home.

I don’t know how else to describe it. And I have absolutely no idea why my brain is short-circuiting like this, and has been for months. But whatever the reason…or lack thereof…there’s something about Alistair, no matter how much he pisses me off, that feels like home.

He feels safe, even though I hate him. Even though I’m scared of him. Even though I know how dangerous he is.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck?”

Alistair shrugs, shoving his fingers through his hair again. I find myself watching the way his perfect mouth and lips move when he’s thinking. He shrugs his leather jacket off in the warmth of the elevator, and my gaze lands on his bicep, stretching the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Depends,” he grunts. “The storm is picking up. I doubt Knightsblood has an elevator tech on staff, which means someone needs to come out. And with the driving conditions like they are…” He makes a face.

“Merde,” I mumble.

“They also don’t even know anyone’s trapped in here.”

My face falls as I glance at him again. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“I’m facing reality. There’s no working phone, we don’t have cell service, and nobody saw us get in here.”

Alistair shrugs, folds up his jacket, and slides down the wall to the floor. He tucks his jacket behind his head and looks up at me.

“Better get comfortable, princess.”

I shiver, hugging myself even though it’s swelteringly warm in the elevator for some reason. I start to pace back and forth.

“Will you please sit the fuck down? You’re freaking me out.”

I glare at him.

“Sit,” he grunts, pointing at the floor.

“I’m not a puppy, you fucker.”

When he shrugs and looks away to take another sip from his bottle, I lean against the wall.

“Tell me something no one knows about you.”

I glance at him with an incredulous brow. “What?”

“One thing that nobody knows about you.”

I snort. “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”

“I dunno. Why do people go BASE jumping, or run with bulls?”

A smile teases the corners of my lips. Slowly, I slide to the floor, quickly draping my jacket over my legs when I realize how short my skirt is.

“Rain check on divulging my secrets to you?”

“I’ll mark my calendar.”

The tension and the panic are melting away a little.

Wow, how the hell did he do that?

“Want a drink?”

I shrug. “Fine.”

“Apparently manners weren’t part of your princess classes,” he growls, passing me the whiskey.

I sigh. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for lying about me fucking sexually assaulting you and almost getting me kicked out of school and blacklisted from a fuckton of law schools.” He gives me a sarcastic thumbs up. “Really. Thanks for that.”

My heart twists as I look down at my hands. “I said I was sorry,” I mumble.

“Are you, though?”

I nod. “Yeah. Truly. That was shitty.”

We’re both silent for a minute, him taking a drink, then passing the bottle to me. My phone’s battery dies and I groan, not that I had service anyway. I swallow a gulp of whiskey and pass the bottle back to him. Alistair coughs lightly.

“In fairness, I did, you know.”

I frown as I look up at him. “Did what?”

“Earlier, you said that when I broke into your dorm room I could have walked in on you changing. I did. But you…ahh…weren’t changing.”

My face scrunches. “I don’t know what⁠—”

Then it clicks, and my face explodes with heat.

“YOU—!”

He waggles his brows.

“Seriously?!”

Alistair grins. “Solid A, A minus performance.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. I want to crawl into myself or melt into a puddle and drip through the cracks in the floor.

Alistair saw me naked. Worse, he saw me masturbating.

Just kill me now.

Suddenly I scowl as I yank my gaze back to him.

“I’m sorry, wait, did you say A minus?!”

He grins. Asshole.

“I’m just saying, I could have been more drawn in, as an audience member.”

I groan as I sink down into a ball, burying my face in my jacket. “You are such a dick…”

“Like, I didn’t really get what your motivation was.”

“Please stop talking.”

“And your technique could use some work.”

I lift my face again and glare death at him through the fiery blush spreading across my face. “Excuse me?!”

He just shrugs and leans back against the wall.

Then his phone dies as well.

Shit. Now we’re in absolute darkness.

I gulp, hugging myself again as my pulse quickens.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

We’re both silent another minute.

“My technique,” I mutter. “Does not need work.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Well, that’s settled then.”

I grin. When did this conversation turn into something that feels like flirting?

“You know what, scrap the minus. Solid A performance.”

I roll my eyes, my face still throbbing. “Gee, thanks, professor.”

“I’ll admit, I might have been swayed by your pandering to the judges.”

I sigh heavily. “There weren’t…” I shake my head. “What does that even mean?”

“Come on, it was my favorite part…”

My nose wrinkles. “What was your favorite⁠—”

“When you said my name.”

And the floor drops out from under me.

I forgot that part.

But it all comes flooding back now. I remember touching myself that night, and imagining Alistair as the one putting his hands on me.

Pinning me to my bed, maybe tying me up.

Calling me a bad girl.

Fucking me.

I said his name out loud.

…And he heard me.

My pulse starts to thud like a bass drum. My breath comes faster and faster, shaky and trembling as my skin turns to gooseflesh.

“Princess.”

I gasp, realizing in the pitch black that he’s right in front of me.

“You need to breathe.”

“I’m fine,” I blurt.

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing!”

“No, you’re shouting.”

“Because you’re bossing me around!”

“I’m trying to calm you⁠—”

“You’re still doing it!”

“Eloise, calm⁠—”

“Oh my God! Has anyone ever, in your entire life, told you how much of an ass⁠—”

I gasp as his hand cups my cheek.

“Will you just shut the fuck up?” he murmurs, inches from my lips.

And then there are no more inches, because suddenly, Alistair Black is kissing me like I have never been kissed before.

After that, there’s no holding back.

None.

In the ensuing explosion of clothes falling away together with inhibitions, and mouths and fingers frantically exploring in the dark, and him swallowing my moans when he first sinks into me, I don’t have the time or the wherewithal to tell him I’ve never done this before.

That this—all of it—is my first time.

In the morning, I wake up groggy and sore, but warm. I realized I’m curled up naked in his arms on the floor of the elevator, our jackets and clothes heaped under and over us like blankets.

The door to the elevator is standing open, and we’re back on the ground floor, the dim, gray, early morning light filtering into the empty, silent lobby of Worthington Tower.

I turn to look at his sleeping face. I study the way his eyes flicker under his lashes. The way his dark brownish-blonde hair flops over his face. The hard edge of his jaw and the perfection of his lips.

I dress quickly, and when I’m done, I kneel down next to him. I lean close to his sleeping face, feeling more alive and more full of…something…than I’ve ever felt before. My lips brush his cheek with a light kiss before drifting to his ear.

“Part of you is mine forever.”

I have no idea why I say it. Honestly, it sounds psycho as hell when I repeat in my head. But it’s out there now. I said it.

No takebacks.

I kiss his lips softly. Then I stand, I turn, and I walk back to the real world.

Present:

“What the fuck was that?!”

Outside the front doors of our building, I whirl to see Massimo storming toward me, Rocco in tow. His face is livid.

“Excuse me?” I snap back.

“That,” he snarls, jabbing a finger vaguely in the direction of the penthouse. “You want to fuck him!? Is that it?!”

I stare at him with a mixture of fear, apprehension, and loathing.

“Are you serious?” I snap. “It was your fucking game! Your idea! You’re the one that offered me up like a cut of meat!”

He smiles darkly. “You wanted it to be him.”

“You’re drunk, Massimo,” I sigh.

“And you’re a whore.”

My lips thin and my nostrils flare as I glare death at him.

“What even was the point of that?”

“To see if you would truly do whatever it takes to get me what I want.”

Revulsion curdles inside of me. “You’re disgusting.”

I go to push past him back into the lobby. Suddenly he grabs my arm, hard, and yanks me back, almost pulling me off my heels.

“Where the fuck is that will, Eloise.”

“I told you!” I snap. “I’m working on⁠—”

I tense, barely catching my balance as he shoves me away from him. He turns to Rocco and nods his chin.

“Wait—!”

Rocco’s backhanded slap hits me so hard my vision goes black. I see stars, choking on my breath as my eyesight blurs before slowly clearing.

All my fight disappears as I drop to my knees. I’m just numb and scared as Massimo yanks me up and against him, his lips curling as he snarls right into my face.

“Work harder.”

Tears sting my eyes. I can taste bitter copper as I bite down hard on my tongue. I turn to glare at Rocco, but it’s like trying to look angrily at a wall. My eyes slide back to Massimo, narrowing on him hatefully.

Massimo smiles sadistically. “Something you’d like to say, wife?”

I shake my head mutely.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

He lets me go and storms away back toward the lobby, with Rocco on his heels.

“Get me what I fucking want, Eloise.”