Chapter Twenty-Six

Lyrical

W e barhop, visiting almost every bar in town, and by the time we get to the last one, I'm ready to call it a night. Though I don't want to go back home.

Snow pours vodka down my throat. This reminds me of old times when we used to go barhopping all night and went to our respective classes the next morning drunk as fuck. Well, I would, not Snow. He has always been more responsible than me.

I pour a bottle of whiskey down his throat as he grabs a fistful of my ass, then I flop down on the leather cushion and set the bottle on the table. He pushes a strand of her hair behind my ear, then grabs me by the neck and kisses me hard before taking me to the bathroom and fucking me against the wall.

Once we're done, we leave, and my bodyguard drives us to the iconic cliff which is thirty miles away from North Haven. People from all around the world come to visit.

The sea is calm and the salty air tickles my nose. I sit on the hood of Snow's car, and he follows suit as we look at green and blue streaks of light in the pitch-black sky. Crickets chirping in the background. It's a little chilly, so I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep warm.

Snow gets off the hood of his car and strolls to the trunk, pulling out a hoodie. When he sits next to me, he hands it to me. I yank the soft hoodie over my head, pulling it down and inhaling it.

It smells just like him, sandalwood and cinnamon.

We're quiet for a while and I bring my knees to my chest.

I can't believe I'm actually passing my college algebra class and graduation is only months from now, then I'll be getting married to Snow. I didn't expect things to spiral out of control between us the way they have, but things feel like they are back to normal between us. Living with him, I learned so much.

He's more unhinged and he's a lot sweeter than I initially thought. He has to be in control, and now I know the reason why he used to act like a possessive boyfriend whenever I talked to other men.

He wanted me.

I remove a fine strand of hair from his face, and he grabs my hand, kissing the inside of my palm.

He smiles at me. "Life is so funny. I used to crave for you to acknowledge me as the man you're going to marry instead of your best friend."

Snow is truly drunk because he doesn't usually speak about his emotions like this.

Shocked, I run my fingers through his silky hair, my gaze dropping to his lips. "I did have a crush on you," I answer honestly. "For a while. I used to get mad when you blew me off for a chick you were going to bang. I used to think, why couldn't you use me instead? Why cou—"

He places his fingers over my mouth. "The only person I fucked since I met you was Savannah."

I lean my head to the side. "What about high school? Taylor told me you two were banging."

I remember that day. I was in the locker room, and I tried so hard not to bang her head against the locker when she was bragging about Snow.

"That's a rumor she started to make herself popular. You're the only woman I always wanted."

My cheeks heat, and we're both quiet again.

How would things have been if we both admitted we wanted each other? I understood where Snow came from when he told me he didn't want to ruin our friendship. I always wanted to be accepted by him and never disappoint him.

"I accepted whatever you gave me," he reveals, gripping my chin. "I used to accept whatever piece of yourself you had given me."

"When did you know you like to dominate women in the bedroom?"

"I went to the Billionaire Club when I was seventeen and watched a man do it to a woman. In some part of the club, there is a sex room where you can watch people fuck, but the wall is a one-way mirror."

"Oh."

My skin feels heated from all the alcohol I consumed. My eyes venture to Russell, who stands by a tree, eating. I forgot he was here.

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I grab it. Glancing down, my mother's name pops up across the screen, and I hit the Decline button.

"Why are you ignoring your mother's call?" Snow stands between my legs, placing his hands on either side of me on the hood.

Tears well in my eyes but I don't want to cry. Maybe it's the alcohol in my system, but I want to know why she really doesn't support me in my dreams of opening my art gallery.

Art is supposed to be shown to the world and helps people get out of their slumps and make them forget their worries. I always wanted to have a relationship with my mother, the way I see others have bonds with their mothers, but we never see eye to eye on a lot of shit. The only thing that makes her proud of me is my marriage to Snow. She wasn't a bad mom growing up, she supported me in whatever I wanted in life… financially. She and Daddy paid for dance lessons, piano lessons, whatever I wanted, but more than anything I crave emotional support from her. My father has always encouraged me to do my own thing, have my own hobbies. Sometimes they would bump heads because they both had different goals. Yes, my father believed in arranged marriages, but he also encouraged me to go after my dreams. But my mother? She had a stick up her ass when it came to any dream I wanted to pursue.

Snow strokes my cheek, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

"She's not happy I'm in college. She thinks my duty is to lie down and have your children and be a trophy wife, but I don't want that. There is more to life than being your trophy wife, no offense. I want to travel the world and be kid-free, maybe until our thirties at least." I shake my head. "Sometimes, I think my dreams are silly. When I told her Bailey and I wanted to start an art gallery together, she was livid. I feel as if she wants to put me into a box and keep me there."

He shakes his head. "I think she wants what's best for you, in her own way."

I tilt my head to the side. "How? She doesn't know what's best for me. How could lying down for a man, bearing a child for him, and losing myself be best for me?"

He strokes the back of my hair, tilting my chin to look at him. "Do you know why we have arranged marriages in elite societies and the Billionaire Club?"

"Because of greed. It keeps the money going."

He nods. "Yes, but they do it to build structure and image. Without a family, the gentleman's club would go up in flames because there needs to be a structure."

"Then why aren't women owners of the club, why does it have to be all men?"

"Because when it first started, women didn't have rights and men brought on so much power. I think if my father wasn't married to my mother, the Billionaire Club wouldn't be as successful. We wouldn't be able to have the structure it now has."

"I thought it was like a boys' club for rich snobs who want to get their dicks wet."

He chuckles against my forehead. "Yes, Blue. It is. And to network with other rich people, so they can keep their generational wealth going."

He plants a kiss against my skin, and butterflies dance in my stomach.

"You can't fuck around on me at the club."

"I've never had the thought before." He crinkles his nose. "Speak to your mother and tell her how you feel. She has her reasons for how she feels. Trust me."

"I don't know if I'm ready to speak to her."

"If you don't, I will," he warns.

"Fine. I will."

"Good girl."

My gaze meets his. "Do you believe in my artwork? Do you believe it will be possible to have a successful art career?"

"Yes, Blue. My girl can do whatever she puts her mind to," he says before he kisses me slowly.