Vicious (Sinners of Saint #1)(49)

He enjoyed it.

I bet she did, too.

It was during their spa weekend when she turned eighteen. Leave it to Emilia to lose her virginity less than a day before she legally could. There were candles and chocolate and all kinds of fancy shit that meant nothing to her. I heard all the details because I basically forced Jaime to tell me after it happened. Dean told Trent and Jaime on the fucking phone, like a chick, making them swear not to tell me.

But while Dean was BFFs with Rexroth, Jaime was my closest friend.

When I threatened to tell his mother—Principal Followhill—that he was bumping uglies with our Lit teacher unless he spilled, he’d started singing like a fucking canary.

That’s when I made the executive decision that Help could no longer live in Todos Santos. She had to disappear and stay the fuck away from everything and everyone I knew.

I wasn’t stupid. I realized that I was preventing her from being around her sister and her parents. Her boyfriend. I was banishing her from everything she knew.

From a comfortable future.

From money and opportunity.

From family Christmases and blue-eyed kids with Dean, who was oh-so-fucking enchanted with her.

From love.

I was ruining her life.

Because. I. Was. Jealous.

Jealousy was a weakness I didn’t need and wasn’t proud of. But I had to conquer it before it conquered me. That’s why, the day they returned from their little spa vacation, I was already waiting for her in her room. I sat on her bed with my elbows on my knees and tried to ignore the fact everything smelled like her. A weird, heady combination of cinnamon, milky butter, and a singular sweetness that only belonged to her. I wanted it out of my nose, out of my estate, and out of my fucking life.

Yes, she’d driven me mad.

She gasped when she walked into her room and found me there. She didn’t know that I knew everything. That she’d fucked one of my best friends. Emilia didn’t look any different, but she felt different.

She felt out of reach, now more than ever.

“Pink suits you,” she remarked in a dry tone, nodding toward the pink flowery linens on her bed. “Who let you in, Vic, and what the hell are you doing in my room?”

No one let me in. Her parents and Rosie had gone to the farmer’s market or some shit.

She dropped her backpack by the door and walked over to her dresser, pulling out some fresh clothes. I loved how she was wearing a crop top with the name of a band only she knew and another pair of Daisy Dukes. She looked tan, and a golden necklace was glistening against her soft bronzed skin.

I also liked that she’d called me Vic.

But I didn’t like that she didn’t even look at me when she said it.

“You need to leave,” I said.

“I think that’s my line.” She sighed. “I need to take a shower and fix myself a sandwich. Whatever you need will have to wait until I’m done. Or maybe until I start taking orders from you.”

“I don’t mean leave the house. I mean leave this town, this state, this fucking planet.”

Maybe not the planet. I didn’t want her dead. I just wanted her out of my life.

Help slammed a drawer shut with her hip and squatted down to fish her toothbrush from her backpack. “Let me ask you something. Do you know you’re crazy, or do you see yourself as a sane person? I’m genuinely interested in knowing.”

She waved the toothbrush handle at me, then dumped clothes from her backpack into the laundry basket in one messy heap.

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to disappear.”

She rolled her eyes. She thought I was joking. “As tempting as the idea of putting a state or two between us is, I have nowhere to go.”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” I fired back, narrowing my eyes at her. I was going to withdraw the sum from my own account. I doubted my dad would even notice, and if he did, it would still be worth it. I was losing my sanity, fast, because of her.

“No,” she chuckled, resolute. “What the hell makes you think I’d do what you’re asking?”

I figured she wouldn’t just leave because I told her to, so I shrugged and picked up my cell phone, staring at her, blasé.

“I’ll fire your parents, and then you’ll all have to move back to some shithole in Virginia, and poor Rosie—poor fucking Rosie—won’t have access to the nice health care plan my dad is paying for. That’s what makes me think you’ll do what I demand.” I smirked.

Her eyes turned to slits and her lips thinned. She hates me. I hated myself too. For the both of us. But I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. It was too much. She was too much. Maybe because of the way she looked exactly like a younger Jo. Maybe because of how I still wanted to fuck her regardless. It made me hate myself.