Page 29 of All Bets Are Off

“Because I’ll kick you in the balls, poke you in the eyeballs, then retrieve my bracelet while you’re writhing on the floor in pain,” I say with a smile. “So what’s it gonna be?”

His neutral expression shifts, the corners of his mouth pulling into an amused smirk. “You’re funny, Evie.”

“That’s a really brave laugh for someone whose nuts are only protected by a thin layer of cotton right now,” I point out, nodding to his boxers. “And I’m wearing heels. Extra pointy and thus extra painful. If you plan on creating some devil spawn one day, you might want to back away and go get my bracelet. Your choice.” I shrug.

Jameson pushes off the doorframe, relaxing his arms and stepping back. “Would you like to come in?”

“So you can trap me in there again? No, thanks. I’ll wait right here.” I hold out my palm to him and this time my smile is polite but stern, like I’m negotiating with a toddler. “Bracelet. Now.”

“I’ll give you your bracelet,” he says, and my eyes light with relief, “if you tell me why you’re in so much financial trouble.”

My shoulders sink, deflated, and I sigh loudly as I snatch back my outstretched palm. “Fine. You promise you aren’t going to kill me if I come inside?”

I narrow my eyes dubiously at him, but the reality is, I don’t actually worry that I am in any legit danger around Jameson. If I had any concern for my safety whatsoever, I certainly wouldn’t have come back to his room again. But his threats seem to have a playful undertone, and although I have no doubt that he is angry at me, I have this gut feeling that he’s enjoying this at the same time.

I won’t lie, I’m kind of enjoying this little cat and mouse game we’ve got going on, too.

“Hey, I have more to risk here than you do,” Jameson reminds me. “You literally tried to rob me just a few hours ago. Maybe I should take a second to secure all of my belongings before I let you in here . . .”

I press my hands to my hips. “Key word being tried to. And I failed spectacularly, so trust me, I won’t be making any further attempts.”

“Promise?”

“I promise I won’t attempt to steal any of your valuables,” I say, holding out my pinky.

“And I promise I’m not going to kill you,” Jameson says, hooking his pinky around mine.

I don’t know why, but something flutters in my stomach. Who knew the promise of not being murdered could make me swoon?

Nervously, I make my way back into my previous crime scene. It’s exactly as it was earlier—most lights off except some lamps offering an ambient glow, the soft purr of the AC, the candy left out on the center table.

“My Reece’s!” I say excitedly, reaching out for the orange packet. I sink down onto the very edge of the couch and tear open the packet, feeling my stomach lurch with hunger.

“You’re lucky I didn’t eat them,” Jameson remarks as he settles on the couch next to me, maintaining an appropriate amount of space between us. He reaches for his half-eaten bag of peanut M&Ms. “So?” he prompts as he leans back to get comfortable, popping a handful of M&Ms into his mouth.

It’s hard to focus when he’s still only wearing boxers, and I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that just a few hours ago, I was on this same couch with him, straddling his lap with my lips against his. Did that really happen? It feels like a fever dream now. Maybe I should have focused more on enjoying it.

“So . . .?” I say, nibbling on a peanut butter cup and looking anywhere but him.

“Why are you so broke?” he asks bluntly. “I mean, you don’t look broke. Those nails are new and your hair looks fresh out of the salon. Your dress felt high quality when I touched it earlier, and you smell like expensive perfume. Those earrings—are they real?”

“Yes, they’re real,” I snap back defensively, subconsciously reaching up to touch the Van Cleef earrings my parents bought me just a few days ago for my twenty-first birthday.

Jameson rolls his eyes and rests an arm over the couch cushions. “Can you see why I’m confused? I don’t understand why you need money. Seems like you’re doing okay, so what are these problems of yours that you’re trying to fix?”

I groan and sink back into the couch. Arms folded across my chest protectively, I stare up at the ceiling because I can’t bring myself to look at him. Normally, I wouldn’t dare tell anyone the truth about the mess I’ve gotten myself into, but Jameson is just a stranger. What do I care if he knows my secrets? After this weekend, I’ll never see him again, and right now all I want is my bracelet back.

Releasing a breath, I bluntly say, “I cheated on my final exams.”

Jameson barks out a laugh, and I snap my neck around so fast to glare at him I’m surprised I don’t paralyze myself.

“Excuse me,” I snap. “I am trying to be honest with you here, so I’d appreciate it if you’d shut the fuck up and listen without laughing.”

Jameson presses his lips into a bold, serious line and gives me a go-ahead nod. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I cheated on my finals,” I say again, ignoring the way the corner of his mouth twitches as he fights to stop himself smirking, “and it came at a cost. I mean, obviously it cost me my morals or whatever, but I mean a literal cost. I promised I’d pay this guy at school two and half grand in exchange for the exam answers.”

“That was silly, wasn’t it?” Jameson says with a patronizing arch of his brow. “Why’d you need to cheat, anyway?”