5. You Got My Message

5

You Got My Message

Declan

The smell of paint fills the air.

Music drowns out all other sounds.

Teal’s studio is as disorderly as she is, and I’m sure that’s how she prefers it. She strikes me as someone who surrounds herself in overstimulation to avoid what she’ll have to face if it’s silent.

As I walk through the door, I spot her phone hooked up to a speaker, so I tug the cord to cut the music.

The moment I do, Teal spins around to find out what happened.

Her wide green eyes slowly narrow when she sees me, her rage melting any hint of fear from her face. Her cheeks tint a shade warmer than her naturally pale complexion, and I’m curious what her skin would look like decorated from me marking her .

Her multicolored hair is half tied up in a messy bun, with the rest falling around her shoulders. Bubblegum-pink and baby-blue strands fall around her face. Her hair is more blonde than anything else lately, but there are a few fresh strands of purple throughout.

The silence in her studio gives away the hitch of her breath when she spots me. A decibel that has me wondering what it would take to make her scream.

I can’t help it.

It’s comforting causing other people pain. And Teal drives me so fucking wild I’d like to chain her up in the Sigma House basement and see what it would take to make her officially break.

Most people don’t give much thought to Tealene Donovan. In grade school, they used her quirks as an excuse to pick on her, but here at Briar, she manages to remain mostly invisible. Apart from her sporadic meltdowns when someone annoys her or pisses her off, she stays under the radar.

She’s quiet.

A shut-in.

She isolates herself on a daily basis.

I’ve often wondered if that’s why she’s always dyeing her hair a hundred different colors. Hoping someday she’ll become part of the art she creates.

It won’t work. She can hide from every other person on this campus, but she can’t escape me.

I shouldn’t enjoy bothering her as much as I do. But I learned from a young age I wasn’t allowed to want her, so I opted for hating her instead. It’s the game we’ve played for years.

Cat and mouse.

Lord and pet.

This girl thinks I’ve made her life a living hell, but she doesn’t know half of what I’d like to do to her. And now’s my chance.

Paint splatters her overalls when she taps her brush against her leg, leaving spots of yellow and orange. Her shoulders are rolled back, and she’s standing in front of a painting that is as angry as her misguided soul.

I’d like to tether Teal—to tame her. Spill her out like paint. One color at a time so I could appreciate every tone individually. Get to know the shades before they swirl together.

“You were looking for me?” I smirk.

I dip my thumbs in my pockets and lean against the doorframe, smiling wider when I notice my presence draws out the blush on her cheeks. A gentle pink that’s a shade sweeter than the bright blush that climbs her whole neck when I really piss her off.

Teal crosses her arms over her chest, smearing a streak of paint on her skin. “You got my message?”

It was impossible not to after she walked up to one of my newest Sigma Sin initiates and told him she needed to speak with his asshole leader so she could cut off his balls and pin them to one of her latest art projects .

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

My nonchalance irritates her more. She’s raw energy and emotion beneath the surface. She feeds on other people’s reactions because if someone else is emoting, she doesn’t have to. Which is why I refuse to give that to her.

I’ve spent years picking on her. Getting to know every little detail about Teal just so I can use her weaknesses to piss her off.

If I couldn’t have her, torturing her was a close second in a game that’s been almost as satisfying as sex.

Teal is the screw that grinds my nerves, so it’s only fair she pays the price for driving me out of my mind with her presence. And now that I have a real excuse to close this gap, I’m off my leash, ready to show her that everything up until this point was foreplay.

It started with me digging up information on her narcissistic father, but as luck would have it, all his dirty secrets lit the path to the firecracker standing in front of me. Whether she likes it or not, she will help me. I hacked her therapy sessions to make sure of it.

I know every dark, twisted thing that’s gone through this girl’s head, so there’s no more hiding. For her or her dad.

Lifting off the doorframe, I cross the studio to Teal. She holds my stare with a stern glare at my approach. Her spine is ramrod stiff, and her cheeks are flushed. She wants to appear strong, but I’ve known her for years. And the way she digs her fingernails into her palms makes it clear she’s nervous.

“Something on your mind, Teal?” I taunt.

“You’re going to Paris?” She rolls her shoulders back, and I almost laugh at the fact that this is what she’s chosen to focus on when she has bigger problems right now.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re not even an artist.”

“Says who?”

Teal narrows her eyes. “I’ve never seen you in class.”

“Because you’re in all of them?”

“Well… no.”

I shrug.

“You’ve never entered a piece for the shows on campus.”

“Maybe I’m shy.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure you are, Declan.”

“Have you ever thought that you might not know everything there is to know about me, Teal?” I step forward, and instinctively, she takes a step back.

She doesn’t realize that she isn’t the only artist in this room. I can draw, sculpt, and paint. I’m good enough to get into Paris without my father needing to pull any strings. But the kind of art I prefer is something a little more unconventional.

“I know everything I need to know about you.” She grinds her teeth.

“Do you?” I smirk. “You seemed awfully curious to learn more a second ago.”

“I don’t know why I even bother.” She juts her chin up. “Forget I even asked.”

“Fine,” I bait her. “Suit yourself.”

Turning, I start to walk away, but she grabs my arm, stopping me .

“What did you mean I would need your help?”

Grinning, I turn to face her, basking in the irritation painting her face. Teal doesn’t like to be at anyone’s mercy, especially mine, which is why I’m desperate for every bit of her neediness in this moment.

“Did you talk to your father?”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes dart off, and she wets her lips. “But my mom said he has plans for me and Jase.”

“He does.” I nod, watching her for a reaction.

But when her gaze meets mine, her stare is vacant, and I don’t know if it’s acceptance or defeat.

I’ve known the Ivans family were moving back to town for months. My father won’t stop complaining about it, and the second they arrived, Jase pledged the fraternity. Vince Ivans and Paul Donovan are in the middle of a corporate merger that will wipe out one of the largest donors to my father’s political campaign, and I couldn’t care less. My father’s always in the middle of fighting off a hostile takeover, and he tends to win.

I don’t usually get involved unless he asks for something, but finding out about Violet tipped the scale.

My father preaches honesty. Transparency. He believes in protecting your blood above all. Or so I thought.

Violet’s existence changes everything.

I always knew my father was a cheating bastard, but I still considered him loyal. He fucked around on my mom because that’s what most Sigma Sin men do, but I thought that was the extent of it.

It wasn’t .

My father knocked up some woman on a business trip and tried to buy her silence. I was raised to believe you don’t disown blood, and that’s precisely what he did.

One revelation and my entire upbringing was brought into question.

Since discovering the truth, I’ve made it my mission to figure out what else my father might be hiding. Not just him but the entire Sigma House Council. Liam Westwood gave me the idea when he tried to use Violet against my father.

We managed to stop them before they benefited from the fact that Ian Pierce had an illegitimate child, but it left me wondering how many lies were told. It left me wondering whether I’m fighting for the House or the Council.

I’m going to find out.

As luck would have it, digging into my father led me to his interest in taking down Paul Donovan. Which is how I discovered Paul’s arrangement with Vince over Jase and Teal.

An arranged marriage is nothing new when two families have enough money that it makes sense, so I usually wouldn’t dig much deeper. But I know there’s more behind it than anyone is saying.

Besides, Teal is mine to fuck with, not her dad’s.

Always has been.

“So you knew about them planning my wedding before I did?” She tips her chin up, annoyed. “How?”

“How do you think?”

“Your stupid fraternity. ”

“You mean Sigma House,” I correct her.

“That’s what I just said.” She glares at me, trying her best to pretend not to care. “So why do you think you can help me with this?”

“I have a proposition for you.” I click my tongue, looking her up and down. “Be my girlfriend.”

It takes a moment for her to process what I’ve said. First, her eyes widen, and then her back gets stiff as a board. Finally, she bursts out laughing.

“You want me to date you?” Teal can barely catch her breath, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen stretch her face in years. “Of all the things you could have said to me, Declan. You really got me with that. You want me to be your girlfriend? I’d rather run into oncoming traffic.”

The moment she says it, her laugh fades, and she cuts herself off.

“I mean—” She shakes her head. “You know what I mean. Besides, what good would that even do? Clearly, I’m already spoken for.”

I take a step toward Teal, and she smells like a garden in bloom. “My father ranks higher up on the Sigma Sin food chain than Jase’s. So long as you’re mine, they can’t challenge it.”

“Yours?” The word is nearly a whisper on her exhale, and I really wish I didn’t like the sound of it as much as I do.

“Mine.”

She swallows. “Why would you want to help?”

“I have my reasons. ”

“Like you trying to piss off my father?” She rolls her eyes. “Who are you really trying to annoy with this idea, Declan? My dad or yours? Because we both know neither of them will be okay with this.”

She’s right.

My father hates the Donovans. Which means I’ve always hated the Donovans . I’m the good son. The family’s soldier. I follow orders without asking questions and do my father’s bidding. I’ve always respected my father and understood his reasoning, whether or not it crossed moral boundaries. I’ve supported his decisions regardless of the outcome.

Not anymore.

“Who cares why I’m doing this or who it pisses off. Do you want my help or not?” I dig my thumbs deeper into my pockets.

Teal bites her lip, really looking at me. “What are you proposing exactly? You want me to fake date you and put off the inevitable with Jase? Just so you can get whatever it is you think you will out of this?”

“Exactly.”

“And why would anyone believe it?” Teal crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t fuck one person at a time, much less date one person.”

I smirk because Teal might tell herself she doesn’t care about me, but clearly, she’s done her homework.

“You’ll make them believe it.”

“God, you’re such a dick, Declan.” Teal steps toward me, planting her paintbrush in the center of my black T-shirt and making a golden-yellow mess .

I rest my palm over the bristles when she tries to pull it away, smearing my skin with the collage of colors she’s using on her canvas. “You might want to watch that mouth of yours if you’re going to convince people you like me.”

“You actually think I’ll go along with this?” Teal grits her teeth. “Your ego really does know no bounds. I’d rather marry Jase than even pretend to date—”

I grab her by the throat and cut her off mid-sentence. Paint slicks between my palm and her neck.

Tightening my grip, I push her backward so she’s pressed flush with her painting.

It sticks to her hair, matting it to the canvas, but she doesn’t fight. She submits like the good girl I know she wants to be for me, no matter what her dirty fucking mouth says.

And it’s artwork.

She’s artwork.

I’d like to strip off all her clothes and watch her roll around in it. But that will have to wait for when she’s earned my attention.

“You seem to think I’m giving you an option, Tealene.”

Her lips part on her exhale. “I—”

“I’m not.” I dip down to brush my lips over hers, refusing her the space to think up an argument when her body is already telling me everything I need to know. “You will do this.”

“Or else what?” She swallows, and the bob of her throat has need coursing through me .

“I might be inclined to let those tapes out of my possession. Do you really want the whole school to know what goes on in that twisted little head of yours? What makes you feel good? What makes you feel alive? How about what makes you want to end it?”

“I hate you.”

“Do you?” I clutch her throat tighter. “Or do you hate that you’re imagining me playing out your little fantasies with you right now? Because I should warn you, you can try and fight me, but I might like it.”

She swallows, and it has me gripping her throat tighter.

“Are you going to fight me, Tealene?”

She shakes her head. Barely. She doesn’t want to admit she’s on board because she prefers hating me. But the heat of her body with me this close, the fantasies she cooks up in her mind, and the things that make her feel alive are all things she knows I can deliver on.

Releasing her throat, I drag my paint-drenched fingers down her cheek. I paint her with the colors she uses to hide her true self. I skim over her perfect flesh, even if it’s sacrilegious to taint it.

The only marks I’d like to see on her skin are those inflicted by me.

“When’s the next time you’re supposed to see your father?” I ask.

“Tomorrow night.” Her gaze avoids mine. “My family is hosting a fundraiser.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up. ”

“And what?” Anger flares in her eyes. “You’ll announce we’re dating and expect that he’ll just be fine with it? Where does it end?”

“It doesn’t.” Dipping my mouth to her ear, I inhale the overpowering aroma of acrylic. “Not until I say so.”

“And when you do say so … When you get what you want. Then what? You’ll hand me over to Jase just like my father plans to?”

There’s pain in her tone because she might be numb, but she’s not stupid. She was born a pawn, and she’s spent her entire life playing one. Unfortunately for her, I can’t offer her any comfort.

I shrug, not answering her question.

“Wonderful.” She sighs. “And what do you expect from me, Declan?”

“You’re going to play along and convince them you’re a good girlfriend.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make anything between us up until this point seem like child’s play. You think I’m mean now? Just watch what I can do.” I grin. “Besides, if you’re good, maybe I’ll give you what you want. After all, we are playing house. Would you like a few perks to go along with our arrangement, Teal?”

I press my body flush with hers, tilting her chin up and forcing her to look up at me.

“Fuck you, Declan.” She shoves my chest, so I spin her around.

I press her face against the still-drying paint. It sticks to her cheek, coloring her in the kind of beauty only she can create.

Reaching down between her and the canvas, I grab her pussy through her jeans. And even if she’s fighting me, the heat is all I need to know she’s lying. Her ass grinds against my cock. It strains so badly that I’m aching to be inside her.

But not until I’ve gotten what I need from her first.

“I’ll fuck you when you beg me for it, pet. And don’t worry, you will.” Humming, I grind the heel of my hand into her clit. She moans, even if it immediately pisses her off. “Do you understand?”

Releasing her, it takes her a moment to push off the canvas. She spins around, covered in paint. Her hair is a mess, and her clothes are ruined.

“Fine. I’ll do this, but only until I figure out what to do about my father’s ridiculous arrangement.” She rolls her shoulders back. “And there will be no perks, you twisted asshole. The only place you’ll be fucking me is in your dreams.”

“Whatever you say, Teal.” I take a step back, not turning around so I can watch her a little longer.

Artwork .

“I’ll send someone by to pick up the painting.” I glance at the large, messy canvas over her shoulder.

Her eyebrows pinch as she follows my gaze. “It’s not even done.”

Of course she doesn’t think so. She doesn’t understand what she’s created on that canvas .

The strokes of anger from before I got here.

The thin lines where her hair smeared the paint.

The handprint from me pinning her body against it.

It’s perfect.

“How long does it take to dry?” I ask, ignoring her comment altogether.

Teal’s green eyes flick back to me, and her confusion has washed away the anger from her face. “A day, usually.”

I pull out my phone and type a message to Maddox. “Someone will be here tomorrow to pick it up.”

“I didn’t say you could have it.”

“Can I?” I dip my phone in my pocket, and my question has her out of sorts.

It’s easier for her to react to me when I’m being an asshole, which is why it’s so much fun to mess with her by not doing that.

I’m patient.

If it’s games she needs, then it’s games we’ll play.

“I—” She shakes her head. “I guess.”

“Good girl.” Those two words draw out the full fire in her cheeks before I turn to leave. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. And wear something less you if that’s possible. We need to convince everyone that I’d actually consider dating you.”

I don’t turn to see the look on her face. I don’t need to. Her huff of irritation is enough confirmation she hates me for even saying it.

This is going to be fun.