Page 29 of Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 1)
The girl squeaks and scrambles to her feet, popping a bit of color on my lips before she tackles my hair. She twists it up expertly, hiding the pink tips in a bun, and circling the whole thing with a faux diamond-studded wrap.
“Done,” she announces, stepping back and waiting for Vic to examine me. He gives me a once-over, eyes sparkling, and then nods his approval.
“Boys, pay the girl and get her on her way.”
Oscar appears as if summoned, like an inked demon in a suit, and leads Ivy Hightower out. Just before he closes the door however, he pauses strategically to look over his shoulder.
“Bernadette Blackbird,” Vic begins, kneeling down in front of me. My brows go up as he pulls the velvet box from his pocket, and opens the top, his attention focused solely on my face. “Will you marry me?”
There's this weird disconnect between reality and this moment. My heart thunders, and my palms feel sweaty, even though I know it's all for show, it's all fake.
“Yes,” I say, my voice raspy. Aaron turns away like he can't be fucked watching, and I wait as Vic reaches out to take my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles and making me shiver.
Carefully, he slips the ring onto my finger and gives my hand a squeeze, bringing it to his lips for a kiss as Oscar shoos Ivy the rest of the way out the door.
By tomorrow, the whole school will know.
By next weekend, the entire town will know.
Can't wait to see how that turns out.Oak Park Country Club is full of rich idiots parading around in expensive golf outfits that don't make them look cool—no, instead they just look pretentious and fluffy, like a strong wind could knock them over.
“This place sucks,” I whisper as Vic hooks his arm with mine and parades us right up to the front desk. The two bulky security guys working the entrance look at us skeptically.
“We're here as guests of Ophelia Mars,” Vic supplies smoothly, and the man at the podium checks his iPad. After a moment, he nods (albeit reluctantly) and gestures for us to go inside.
We're very clearly the only people here with ink, and the stares start within seconds of us entering the building. Without my usual bold cat-eye, racy lipstick, and leather jacket, I feel almost naked, my armor against the bullshit of the world stripped away.
“We stand out like weeds in a daisy patch,” I whisper, and Vic smirks.
“They can sense we don't buy into their bullshit. Do you know how scary that is, for people who have no souls? All they have is Prada, Gucci, and BS.” Vic pauses, and puts on this smile that's tight enough to form a garrote around my neck. “Mother.”
I turn my attention to the right and find a woman dressed not dissimilarly to me, except instead of a skirt, she's got flowing khaki-colored pants on.
Her mouth is like a cut on her face, red and bleeding. Her lipstick is on point, but that angry expression, those dark eyes, she's the yuppie version of Vic.
“Victor,” she says, her eyes sliding from him to me. “And who's your friend?” In a split second, I see her scan and dismiss my ink, note the ring on my finger, and decide to hate me for no reason whatsoever.
“Mother, this is my fiancée, Bernadette Blackbird.” Vic moves his arm to my waist and pulls me close. “We'll be getting married as soon as we turn eighteen.”
“A ploy for you to get your inheritance, no doubt,” Ophelia says, nostrils flaring as she turns to me. “I hope you know that you're spreading your legs for a liar. He doesn't love you, and he never will. As soon as he gets the money, he'll dump you on the street and take off to whatever drug den he's currently holed up in.”
Vic laughs, the sound much more genuine than his hair or his outfit.
“Oh, Mother,” he purrs, turning to look at me. His eyes burn, and I can see he's as interested in fucking me as I am him. “You've got it all wrong.” Victor drops his mouth to mine, a burning ember that sears through me, makes me tremble with this desperate, aching need.
It hurts, how much I want it.
It makes me wonder if I'm as much a monster as he is, wanting the man who tortured me for nearly half a year. Once, he and the other Havoc boys set me up, so it would look like I’d screwed Kaydence Mane’s boyfriend when all we’d done was study in the library together. She and her friends kicked the shit out of me and left me bleeding on the gym floor.
I must be a masochist.
Or maybe I just hate myself so much, I’ll always want what I shouldn’t have? My personal poison, delivered in lethal doses by my own hand.
