Page 24 of Pretty Little Threats

“I know you don’t like it, but you love me, so you’ll put up with it.” She claps her hands. “What’s the plan?”

“Disappear into the ether?” I suggest.

“And leave me alone on this miserable planet? Absolutely not.” Cassia taps her finger on her lips. “Oh my god!” She hops off her chair and scurries over to the couch, plopping down next to me and clutching my arm. “NYC Socialite published the Most Eligible Singles today!”

My lips turn down. “I don’t see how that relates.”

She shushes me and gestures to my laptop resting on the arm of the couch with all the excitement of a new puppy. “Pull up the website.”

“Okay, bossy.” I take another sip of wine to help brace myself and set the glass aside. The sleek case of my laptop is cool against my fingers as I open it, waking up the computer as dread settles into my stomach. Last year’s edition was especially brutal. I don’t know that I’m ready for another round ofall the ways Rose Miller sucks.

My fingers fly across the smooth keyboard. I hesitate before hitting the enter key, take a fortifying breath, and submit the URL. The website loads in a matter of seconds.Vibrant colors and flashy fonts fill my screen. Using the menu bar, I navigate to the section dedicated to the yearly list of singles. Breath held tightly in my chest, I scroll through the listings, noticing a few people Cassia and I went to school with.

I quickly scan over the commentary, knowing this first page is always the nicest. The farther down the list, the more ruthless the analysis is. I didn’t expect to be in the top six, but my heart still sinks as I select the arrow to go to the next page.

“It’s going to suck,” Cassia warns me. “But you’ll understand once we get there.”

“Oh, god,” I groan. “I already hate it.” Sighing, I remind myself that NYC Socialite caters to the masses and that hate usually gets more attention than positivity. Whatever they say doesn’t matter.

My cursor floats over the number five. The very last page?Ouch. Right, you knew they were going to talk shit again. It’s not like it can be much worse than last year.

“Here goes nothing,” I grumble, clicking to the next section.

MOST LIKELY TO DIE ALONE.

Jesus Christ. This is definitely worse than last year. My lips twisting to the side, I try to ignore the sting of rejection that accompanies the flood of insecurity. Some words from the narrative jump out at me:Bitch. Overweight. Can’t keep a man to save herself from drowning.Fuck me. This year, the writers are especially cruel. And to make the hit worse, they used big, bold letters for the title which hovers above my picture and... “Oh, what the fuck?”

Cassia sucks air between her teeth. “Yeah, so, it’s pretty fucked up, but look! You and Dare, side by side.” She scoots closer and offers me my wine glass.

I take it and sip, scowling at the brooding picture of Dare. His hand cups his chin, tattoos on full display, and I can’t help feeling like the glare on his face is meant for me. “So, we both suck?”

Laughing, Cassia shakes her head. “No. You’re both single.”

My gaze jumps to her. “You’re not suggesting?—”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Cassia taps the laptop screen, the tip of her nail hitting the middle of Dare’s forehead. “Hear me out. Your dad wants a way to take Dare down, right?”

I take another drink. “This is a bad idea.”

“But what if it’s not?” she says quickly. “Eric is disgusting and, honestly, marrying Dare might be better.”

“Marry him?!” I shriek. “I thought you meant date, but marry? Cassia, that’s insane.”

She smirks. “Is it? Or is it a stroke of genius?” She drops her head back onto the cushion and reaches her hand up, sweeping it over her head. “Picture the headlines.Rose Miller marries Darian Richardson.Rose Miller takes every last dime from Darian Richardson in a nasty divorce. Darian Richardson spotted sobbing on a park bench.”

That makes me giggle.

Cassia nudges me. “See? And here’s the kicker—Darian Richardson forced to turn over shares of JD Miller & Co.”

As much as the idea is a little out there, I can see where she’s coming from. My gaze roves over the screen. Our pictures are side by side.We actually look good together.But marriage? I mean, Dare is definitely the lesser of two evils. Eric will probably try to break me the first chance he gets. Dare is scary, but it’s not the same. I’m not afraid Dare will rape me. Hell, I’m not even worried about him killing me.

My heart is racing as fast as my mind, making my handstremble. I tuck them under my legs and stare at Dare’s glowering face, really mulling over the idea.

All the rumors say he’s a cold-blooded murderer. My gut is telling me something different. I still think he’s ruthless and generally terrible, but the way he reacts when I mention his sisters or parents is telling. Dare cares about them. Why would he deny killing his parents with so much conviction if he hated them?

There’s more to that story I don’t understand, but that’s beside the point. He’s a pain in the company’s ass, and a marriage to Dare might just solve the Eric problem. It would get me close to Vista Holdings and the best access to insider information, so we can finally take Dare’s shares and kick him off the board.

The question is, why would Dare agree?

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