Chapter Fourteen

“Hey, you.” I sat in front of the oval mirror in my suite’s bedroom, applying thick, neon-blue eyeliner on my upper eyelid, pretending to be blasé.

Max’s stance wilted in the mirror’s reflection. He stood at the doorway, hands tucked into his front pockets, mouth screwed shut miserably. He nodded. Things had cooled off between us in recent days, our playful back and forth reduced to polite, grating conversation.

“Lucky me.” I forced a smile, picking up my blush brush and stabbing it over the bronzer. “Another day without the tyrant.”

“He said he’ll take you to the rehearsal dinner tomorrow,” Max explained, almost apologetically.

It had been almost a week since Ransom and I had done nothing in the suite’s living room. Coincidentally, it had also been almost a week since I’d last seen him. One of the security people from the other room had picked up some of his suits and personal belongings and moved them out, while Max moved in to take over. The same person complained the footage and audio from the night Ransom had fingered me was missing. I had no doubt it was my bodyguard’s doing, getting rid of the evidence.

Screw Ransom. His hot and cold games were getting old. A part of me wondered if this was another creative way to punish me for exposing a weakness of his.

Only this time, the weakness was me.

I dabbed my cheekbones with the brush. I’d already asked for forgiveness from Max for what I’d done that night. He’d accepted the apology, but this was all word-laundering. Something was broken between us, and we both knew it could never be repaired.

I was too occupied with Ransom. Max was focused on staying gainfully employed.

“He’s real busy,” Max excused his boss’ behavior. “He’s setting up an entire cybersecurity department, you know.”

I laughed incredulously. “It’s fine, Max. Seriously. I don’t care.”

Max studied me. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I dropped the brush, grabbing a random lipstick, squeezing it against my lips with all the grace of a hippo.

“Because your eyes are wet.”

Were they? Shit. They were.

“Just makeup allergies,” I huffed.

I was dying on the inside. The rejection was nibbling away at whatever confidence I had left. How could he do this to me?

Max stepped into my en suite bathroom, returning with a box of tissues, which made me want to cry again. He handed it to me silently.

I plucked one out, dabbing the corners of my eyes. “See? All better now.”

On the seventh day after my nothing with Ransom, the bastard showed up in a tux at my suite’s door. I opened it for him, clad in a black vintage Victorian cap-sleeved corset dress. The sleeves were white silk, and the hem of the corset was embedded with little flowers.

“Wrong room,” I announced chirpily, slamming the door in his face. He slipped his shiny loafer between the door and the jamb, blocking me from closing it on him.

He shouldered past me, barely glancing at my face. He headed straight to the alcohol cart, pouring himself three fingers of whiskey.

The chutzpah of the man.

“No way I’m letting you drive under the influence.” I closed the door reluctantly, wondering where Max was. Had he gone already? Without saying goodbye?

What do you expect? You used him to get back at his boss.

“We’ll be driven there.” Ransom downed his drink, slamming the empty glass against the cart. He checked his watch. Frowned. Then looked up, his eyes accidentally landing on my cleavage.

“What’re you wearing?”

“A dress.” I picked up my purse from the kitchenette counter, flinging my hair to one shoulder. “Does my skin look okay? Had to descale myself after you touched me.”

“Someone doesn’t handle rejection well.” But his voice held no venom. He looked tired, agitated, and generally unwell.

“It would have been a rejection if you told me you weren’t interested the next day.” I smiled sweetly. “But what you did is called running away. I never pegged you for the hysterical type, but that’s people for you. We’re an unpredictable species.”

Astonishingly, Ransom didn’t verbally whip me for my last barb. He shook his head, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Finally, we’re on the same page.” I rolled my eyes, stomping to the door. He followed me, his tall, narrow frame shadowing mine.

The drive to my parents’ mansion was silent. Mom and Dad sent out one of their drivers, which meant Ransom and I didn’t have the chance to bicker loudly. Just as well. I was exhausted from overthinking what had happened between us, and wasn’t looking forward to coming face-to-face with The Wicked Witch of the South and her sleek-haired fiancé.

Ten minutes before our scheduled arrival at my parents’, Ransom glanced over at me from the other side of the Escalade. “You’re not to leave my sight tonight, Princess.”

“Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? After going MIA for seven days.”

His eyes flicked to our driver, then narrowed back at me. “Some of us have real jobs to do.”

“And yours is to take care of me. If you can’t handle it, hand back the monthly checks.”

“Weekly,” he corrected coolly. “And you were in safe hands with Max.”

“They were warm, too.” I let loose a malicious grin. “Not to mention…creative.”

He crossed his legs, looking at me with easy mockery. “He didn’t touch you.”

“Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know.”

“I do know, because there are cameras everywhere. Remember?”

I did now. God, I hated the man.

“Don’t mistake his lapse of judgment for a trend.” Ransom shook his head.

“Was that what Max and I had?” I mused. “And what would you call what you and I had?” I dropped my voice so we couldn’t be heard. “A gap of judgment wide enough to drive a tanker through?”

“A mistake.”

“If there’s one mistake here, it’s you.”

“No doubts there. We all know the story of my origins.”

“Listen here, you ass—”

He reached over, pressing his forefinger to my mouth with a dry chuckle. “What I am is irrelevant. What you are is what’s important. And you’re a client. So let’s pretend that night never happened and move on. Believe it or not, I’m here to help you. Especially as it seems you lack the motivation and resources to help yourself.”

I was about to bite off his finger when the Escalade pulled to a stop in front of the wrought-iron gates.

He unbuckled, sliding out of the car.

“It’s showtime, Princess.”

A dime was not spared on the rehearsal dinner, which consisted of the two lovebirds’ families and close friends. Two hundred people in total.

Security was through the roof. Dozens of black-suited men patrolled the grounds of the mansion, with helicopters swirling low above the rooftop. Pink peonies and white roses poured out of tall antique porcelain vases, bracketing the pathway to the entrance. A wedge of golden light shining down from professional projectors made the open double doors shimmer. Ransom and I walked in to find the open-plan foyer teeming with people in suits and gowns, clutching flutes of champagne, babbling about the upcoming event.

“…heard they’re going to spend 20k on fireworks alone…”

“…the invitations are apparently decked out with invisible ink and holograms to avoid wedding crashers…”

“…gown should be fantastic. The tiara is said to be on loan from the Queen of England herself. Apparently, she is an avid Julianne Thorne fan. Can you believe it?”

Plucking a glass of champagne from a wandering tray, I glided toward the inner rooms, Ransom at my heel. I brought the drink to my lips, only to have Ransom snatch it from between my fingers.

“No alcohol for you tonight.”

“Tell me you’re a petty baby without telling me you’re a petty baby,” I purred, trying not to show him how frustrated I was. I wasn’t expecting a tearful reunion, but why was he so awful to me?

“Bad things happen when you drink,” he reminded me.

“The worst thing that recently happened to me occurred when I was stone-cold sober.”

He didn’t respond. Good. I had bigger fish to fry. One of them stood at the end of the hallway, haloed by a flock of women in evening gowns.

Hera.

She looked tragically stunning. A modern-day Audrey Hepburn in a lime dress, with a boat neckline and a hem that was just long enough to announce she was the star of the event. Her dark hair was pinned up, her side bangs swiped to one side neatly. She wore minimal makeup.

“Oh, yes. It’s been so horrible to lose him.” Hera touched a gloved hand to her chest, presumably talking about Craig’s grandfather. “I kept asking—why me? Why us? It was such a difficult time for me. Still is.”

Me, me, me.

Was that how I sounded? No wonder the tabloids loathed me.

Without realizing, I gravitated toward the circle of women. I felt safe, cloaked in the invisible cape of my failure to become a successful Thorne daughter. So much so, that I was genuinely surprised when my sister’s eyes zeroed in on me. First, with open contempt. How could I wear something so gauche to her rehearsal dinner? Right before she plastered a delighted smile on her face.

“Hallie! My gosh, finally! I’ve missed you so.” She stepped between two middle-aged ladies with too much makeup and clasped me into a special Thorne hug, where arms were involved even though bodies did not touch. I felt instantly cold. Her mouth found my ear. “Don’t fuck it up for me, little sis. Please. I really want to just survive tonight. I’m exhausted.”

Hera rarely showed signs of weakness, so I was actually pretty touched.

Disconnecting from me, she fluttered a hand over my arm. “Look at you! I cannot believe it’s been so long.”

“I can,” a voice behind me said dryly. Ransom. Hera frowned at him.

“And you are?” She offered her gloved hand for him to kiss.

“Ransom Lockwood, your sister’s security detail.” He ignored her outreached hand, popping his ID card from the inside of his blazer.

“What a peculiar name.”

“At least I’m not named after the most jealous, vengeful creature in Greek mythology,” he said, low enough only for her and me to hear.

She sized him up quickly, her sharp eyes sweeping over his physique, his stony expression, the immaculate cut of his tux. The ring of women around us dissolved. People floated toward the waiters, eager to see if the hors d’oeuvres were truly gold-leafed.

Finally deciding he was not someone she wanted to cross, she turned to me. “I can’t believe you missed the funeral, Hal. People talked.”

“We felt strongly it wasn’t safe for Miss Thorne to travel so far away,” Ransom’s silky voice taunted, pressing on all of Hera’s sensitive points. “She’s a high-profile persona.”

“My sister can speak for herself.” Hera reddened. “And anyway, who do you think I am?”

“A nurse, right?” he asked, knowing damn well she was a doctor, and that she would find the question insulting. “Very admirable.”

Hera’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind. I had the good sense to push myself between them. No part of me wanted to see World War III starting.

“Do you have any idea what room I could use to freshen up my makeup before we take pictures?” I asked her. Hera liked to be reminded that she knew this house much better than I did.

Reluctantly, she ripped her gaze from Ransom. She waved a hand behind her. “You can take this one. Craig is technically supposed to use it, but he’s staying upstairs, in my room.”

I slipped into the guestroom. Ransom shut the door behind us.

Numbly, I sat at an oak vanity desk and began brushing my hair back. The thickness in the air signaled a looming disaster. Nothing good ever happened when I was under the same roof with Hera and Craig.

Ransom pulled a book from a floating shelf, scowling. “The Visual Display of Quantitative Information,” he read out loud. “The fun just never ends with you Thornes.”

“You didn’t have to be so terse with Hera.” I glowered at him through the mirror, ready to pick a fight.

“No, I didn’t, but it was enjoyable. She needed to be taken down a few notches.”

“You baited her,” I accused, stuck on a knot the brush couldn’t untangle.

“She survived.”

“I don’t need to get into more trouble. What if she thinks you’re my mouthpiece?”

“No offense, but no one in their right mind would ever think I’m the puppet and you’re the monster in this relationship,” he retorted smoothly. “Stop giving a shit about Hera. She doesn’t extend the courtesy to you.”

Sighing, I dumped the brush onto the desk, picking up a pair of scissors. I grabbed a handful of my hair, snipping the tangled part. A sudden urge to chop off all of my hair hit me. It would piss off my family so much. But as much as I wanted to hurt them, I ridiculously also wanted to be accepted by them. It was pathetic, yet the truth.

“I’m going for a quick piss. Don’t go anywhere.” With those romantic parting words, Ransom treaded out of the room, as darkly and quietly as he’d entered. I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the desk. Only a few more hours to go. The wedding was tomorrow. After that, I could run back to Los Angeles. Leave the Thornes behind for a few more years.

Deciding a small nap wouldn’t hurt, I closed my eyes.

The whine of the door opening announced Ransom’s return. I didn’t lift my head to greet him.

A glass of something—liquor, by the sharp scent of it—was set by my elbow. He hovered behind me, breathing down my neck.

“You can step back now. As much as I enjoy the creeper vibes, I’m okay,” I mumbled into my arm.

A palm pressed against my shoulder. Warm and pudgy. My head immediately shot up. This wasn’t Ransom’s touch. Everything about Ransom was sinewy and rough.

Our eyes met in the mirror as he stood behind me.

Craig.

The man I detested more than anyone else in the entire world.

A smile stretched across his face. With a pronounced widow’s peak, pale skin, golden hair, and expensive veneers, Craig screamed old money.

“Hello, Hallie. So good to see you.” His fingers curled around my shoulder blade.

Thrown into fight-or-flight mode, I grabbed the tumbler of liquor he put next to me and turned around, tossing the content at his eyes. I missed, splashing his tux.

“You little bitch…” His hands went straight for my throat.

I flew up from the chair, making a beeline to the door. But Craig had an advantage over me—he was physically stronger, and not half as disoriented and scared. He grabbed me by the hair. My scalp burned. He shoved me against the four poster bed, trapping me with his big frame. He hiked up my dress from behind, clumsy fingers already patting their way between my legs.

I opened my mouth, letting out a desperate scream.

“I see you need a little reminder on how our get-togethers go down.” Craig fisted my hair harder, burying my face into the rich wool linen, suffocating and shutting me up at the same time. Locks of coppery hair fell from my scalp, scattering on the mattress.

“Come on, now, Hal-Pal. It’s been years, and you know I never overstep. I’ll just cop a little feel. Keep you in top-notch.”

His fingers patted along my inner thighs. I clutched my legs shut, bucking and escaping his touch. I couldn’t breathe. The safest solution was to let Craig do his thing and get it over with. But I didn’t want to be safe. I wanted to inflict pain on him. I wanted revenge. I wanted his blood.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

Craig never went all the way when he assaulted me. He never penetrated me in any way. Never kissed me, even. But he always touched where he was not supposed to. Even when I pleaded—begged him—not to. Especially when I begged him not to.

He liked tugging one off while assaulting me.

Getting off on my pain.

To him, I was the simpleminded Thorne child, the forgotten black sheep. His to play with.

His hands found the spot he was looking for, and he cupped my sex through my panties from behind, squeezing hard, letting out a satisfied groan.

“Here we are. Now let me just…do this…right quick…last time as an unmarried man…”

I heard his zipper roll down, and I screamed hard into the duvet. The pressure inside my head was so intense, I thought it’d explode. I tried to give him a roundhouse kick, but he moved away quickly. He stepped back between my legs from behind. He held my head tightly, pushing my face down onto the mattress so no one could hear me.

“Now where were we?” He chuckled.

Before I knew what was happening, Craig flew off of me. I righted myself, pushing my dress down. I caught a glimpse of the red marks his fingers left on my thighs. Ransom fisted Craig’s dress shirt, slamming him against the walled mirror. The mirror broke and collapsed at their feet, the alarming noise drowned by the soft jazz music seeping from under the closed door.

“Fatal mistake.” Ransom smashed Craig’s head against the broken mirror. “The worst one you’ve made in your miserable life.”

Eyes dead, jaw flexed, Ransom thrashed my sister’s fiancé against the broken glass again and again.

“Wait! Wait! I can explain!” Craig cried out, trying to wriggle away from my bodyguard’s grasp. He stood no chance, and he knew it.

“You can try while I smash your fucking head in, but you won’t succeed.” Ransom’s voice was as blank as his eyes. Blood stained the shards of broken glass behind Craig’s head. The glass was flat, so it didn’t pierce through the skin, but my heart was still in my throat.

“Look, she’s not…she is not like us, man! Her mind is…she is simple, all right?”

In response, Ransom flung Craig across the room, over the bed. Head down, ass up, he was now in the same position I’d been in moments earlier.

Seeing him like this, at a point of such disadvantage, made me want to weep with relief.

“Let me demonstrate what it felt like for her.” Ransom pushed Craig’s face deep into the mattress while ripping Craig’s tuxedo pants down. His boxers tangled across his ankles. From my spot in the corner of the room, I stared at his soupy skin, the way his knees bumped together in fear. He retched, collapsing forward. Then he vomited all over the bed.

“What were you going to do to her?” Ransom demanded, his hand still fisting Craig’s hair. A better woman would have stopped Ransom. But I thrived on the scene, buzzing with adrenaline.

I hated Craig and couldn’t help but feel triumph and relief. He was finally getting what he deserved, after all these years. All those tears.

Craig’s muffled voice—blocked by the linen and his vomit—tried to answer the question.

Ransom tugged him up by the hair. “Repeat that.”

“Nothing!” Craig cried out, tears streaming down his splotched face. “I swear!”

“Wrong answer. I’m giving you another chance, before I get creative with your punishment. Fair warning: my taste runs eclectic, and I’m a very adventurous man.”

Craig looked delirious with pain and fear.

“What were you going to do to her?” Ransom leaned down, whispering in his ear. His fingers tightened on Craig’s hair, pulling some of it out. His golden tresses fell next to my red-hot ones. Together, they looked like orange-tipped flames.

Craig closed his eyes. “I—I—I was just…I thought…I mean, I normally just…”

“He touches me and jerks off,” I found my voice from my spot in the corner of the room, hugging myself protectively.

“How many times?” Ransom asked without looking at me.

“Four,” I replied, including this one. The only impediment that stood between Craig and his goal was the man who was hired to protect me.

Somehow, it was not lost on me that my parents had hired Ransom.

“Hand me that hairbrush, would you, Miss Thorne?” Ransom opened his palm in my direction.

I scurried to the desk, doing as he said. Our fingers touched when I passed him the brush. The little hairs on my arms stood on end.

This wasn’t going to end well, my fascination with this violent, complex man who vowed to keep me safe.

“Prepare yourself for some spanking, kiddo,” Ransom announced in a talk-show host brightness. “Bite the duvet if you can’t take the heat.”

“The duvet is covered in vomit,” Craig protested weakly.

“Your doing. Bon appétit.”

He spanked him with the back of the brush, ten for each time he assaulted me. Forty in total. Until Craig’s ass was so red, so swollen, I didn’t think he could sit this month or the next. It made me feel protected and safe. Like someone had my back. And for the millionth time recently—that someone was Ransom.

Finally, Ransom let him go. Craig sagged to his knees with his pants still wrapped around his ankles, crawling toward the door. He left a trail of tears and blood.

“You’ll pay for this…both of you…you won’t get away with this.”

Ransom yanked a tissue box from the desk, pulled one, and wiped his hands nonchalantly. “Not sure about that, buddy. If you tell anyone what happened, I’ll tell everyone what really happened. Now, we both know Julianne and Anthony aren’t Parents of the Year material when it comes to Miss Thorne, but now you’ve really done it. No room for error.”

Craig stopped crawling. He turned around to look at us.

“They won’t believe her.” His eyes danced in their sockets.

“You’re wrong. But even if you weren’t, they’ll believe me,” Ransom said with confidence. “And I don’t intend on keeping it in the family, either. Just think of the check I can cut with a story this juicy.” Ransom let loose a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’ll be making me a rich man.”

I didn’t think he would—selling a story to the tabloids wasn’t his style—but the idea was bone-freezing. Craig must’ve shared the sentiment, because he rolled over the carpet, bracing himself against a wall to stand on his knees. “What do you want?”

Ransom sat down on the stool by the desk, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“You will never put a finger on this woman again.”

“Done.” Craig’s eyes singed red. He refused to look at me, focusing on Ransom only. “You think I want anything to do with her?”

“Seeing as I think very poorly of you, yes, I believe you’re stupid enough to try your luck again. I’m not going to stick around forever. But I am going to call Miss Thorne bi-annually to ensure that you keep your promise. Consider this a lifetime warranty of mine. She was nearly assaulted while under my supervision, and now I must protect her, eternally, from the monster who tried to put his hands on her.”

I could hug Ransom. I believed him. Believed he’d call. Believed he would never let a thing like that happen to me again. I also appreciated how, despite his kinks, he had such a clear sense of right and wrong, reality and fantasy.

“What else?” Craig asked, his head lolling over his chest.

“Cancel the wedding rehearsal.” I found my voice. I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to pretend to be happy for this horrible couple.

He snorted. “Like I can go out there looking like this.”

“What’ll you tell people?” I directed the question at Ransom, hating myself for caring.

“He is going to tell people he had an allergic reaction, passed out, and hit the back of his head on the mirror while collapsing. We found him and alerted the staff,” Ransom filled in the gaps for us.

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Craig whined.

“Get creative, asshole.” Ransom stood up. “Now pull your pants up and get the fuck out of here.”

A moment later, the door was shut behind Craig and it was just Ransom and me again. The stench of Craig’s puke engulfed the room. Ransom cracked a window open and stood next to it while I sank into the stool he’d just occupied.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice neither soft nor heartless. “Right from the beginning.”

Rehashing my weakest moments wasn’t a lifelong dream of mine, but he’d just gone to bat for me, so I took a deep breath.

“The first time, I was fourteen. I was back from summer camp, only for a few days. My parents wanted to take me to the ballet with them. I preferred to stick around with Hera and Craig. See, becoming friends with my sister was an obsession for me. I wanted her to accept me. But she had other plans. She decided to go out with some friends and asked Craig to keep an eye on me…”

“I’m not staying here, Craig. But someone needs to keep an eye on Hallie, she’s still young. Take a bullet for me, will ya?”

“Yeah, yeah, babe. Sure thing.”

“Keep an eye on her, Craig. Fourteen is still young, all right?”

“And he took liberties,” Ransom finished my sentence, piercing through the painful memory.

I nodded, licking my lips. “Craig had always been so nice and sweet to me. He helped me out with my summer homework and played ball with me in the backyard. We ordered food and played Monopoly.

“Up until then, it was all okay. Ordinary. Craig let me win, I remembered. When we were done playing, Hera still wasn’t home. Craig promised he’d speak to her when she came back. Tell her to make an effort, spend more time with me. He escorted me back to my room, then told me that Hera was being really mean to him, too, sometimes. I was so mad at her for ditching me, my loyalty immediately shifted to him. I rolled with it when he dissed her. He said she was cold and unkind to him, and that she didn’t even let him kiss her. He asked if he could touch me. Like, a simple touch. Just touch my leg or whatever.” I shook my head, remembering every moment of it, every small smile, every gesture. “I was na?ve, and young, and worst of all—grateful. I said yes. I consented to it.”

“You consented to nothing.” Ransom closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the side of the window. “You were fourteen, he was twenty-two. He was a manipulating piece of shit. What happened next?”

“He just touched my legs. But he touched himself, too, in the process. And that…I hadn’t agreed to that. I couldn’t see what he was doing. It was dark. But I knew it was wrong, and I knew we’d both get in trouble for it if people found out.”

“Then what?”

“He finished, I guess.” I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head. “Went to the bathroom, came back after a few minutes. I was sick with shame and worry. I told him I was gonna tell my parents. He said, ‘You agreed to this. All they’re going to think is that you’re a slut on top of being stupid.’I believed him. At this point, I knew my parents were making excuses for me. And realistically, I wasn’t going to see Craig much. I had kept hoping he and Hera would break up and I wouldn’t have to deal with him again. But that wasn’t how things panned out.”

“And your parents never suspected?”

“My relationship with my parents is…complex. We both work hard at pretending nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re both doing a shit job at it. What about the other times?” Ransom asked.

I rubbed at my right eyebrow. “Then it happened during a family vacation in Cabo—Craig got really drunk and knocked on my suite’s door to apologize. Said it had been eating at him. When I tried to push the door closed, he barged in and did it all over again.”

I heard Ransom suck in a breath, but didn’t dare look at him.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “That time, though, I managed to knee him in the balls. So that bought me a few years of peace and quiet.”

“Third time?” he asked.

“Two years ago. Thanksgiving.”

“And you never told anyone?” There was no judgment in his voice.

I swallowed the acidic saliva pooling in my mouth. “The more time that passed, the larger the secret became, and revealing it after all those years felt…weird. Like they would suspect me. Why hadn’t I come to them after the first time? You always see it in comments on the internet when someone tells their abuse story. When Hera and Craig got engaged, for instance, the tabloids claimed I was extremely jealous of her. It’d have been the perfect time to come clean…if it wasn’t for the terrible motive the press would have slapped on this kind of move.”

“Bet you my dick Craig himself planted the idea that you were jealous,” Ransom said.

I scratched my cheek. “Probably. He loves the media attention.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “The first time I saw you…you thought…”

“Yeah.” I stood up swiftly, collecting my purse. “I thought you came for me. I was ready to kill you if you tried something. What happened with Craig…it really screwed me up.”

“Did anyone ever suspect? A friend? A teacher? A boyfriend?”

“No one.” I wrinkled my nose. “All my L.A. friends, even Keller, are just skin deep. It didn’t seem right. And I didn’t trust anyone else. As for boyfriends…” I sucked in a breath. “I’ve never had one.”

“Never had what?”

“A boyfriend.”

Ransom gave me a GTFO look. “Bullshit.”

I shrugged, smiling miserably.

“But you’re not a virgin.” Ransom frowned, his cheeks tinting pink. “I know that. I—”

“Not anatomically, no. The proud owner of my V-card is my rechargeable JoyStick. I don’t have any sexual experience to speak of, other than self-pleasure.” The words rushed out of me, each confession tumbling after the next. It felt good to get it off my chest, even if the person I was confiding in was my enemy.

“The first time I felt anything resembling sexual attraction to anyone was that night, when I caught you in that dirty L.A. alley…” I waved my purse in the air, chuckling. “Well, anyway, that was a mistake. It’s fine, though. I never needed a relationship to be satisfied sexually. I can take care of myself.”

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but I couldn’t bear to listen to what it might be.

“Hey, do you think it’s safe to leave?” I looked around us. “The smell is starting to get to me.”

“Hallie…” Ransom trailed off, looking miserable and disgusted with what I’d just told him. Maybe a little bit with himself, too, for his treatment of me. I couldn’t stand it. The pity.

“Please don’t be a sap.” I rolled my eyes. “Can we get out of here, or what?”

He nodded once, waltzing over to open the door for me.