Page 93 of Liars and Liaisons

She crosses her arms, shrugging. “I liked him because it was easy. Because I didn’t really have much and he made me feel good with all his compliments and gifts. He wasnice.”

My jaw clenches, so hard that I feel the bite ricochet up my skull. “Yes, I know hownicehe pretended to be to you. Is that what you were thinking of when he assaulted you? That he was beingnice?” Pushing past her, I head for the bedroom, grabbing my black boxer briefs off the floor and stepping into them. I reach for my shirt next, a deep green button-down, and yank it on over my shoulders, glaring at the fucking mess of sunflowers littering the room.

Stupid of me to think they’d matter.

It’s idiotic really of me to even be upset. If nothing else, she’s made it fairly clear whose bed she’d rather be in, who she’s pledged her allegiance to, and yet I’m throwing a goddamn tantrum like a prepubescent child. All because I want to kill my brother.

Not for what he did to Sydney, dragging her into this world and leaving her to die in it. Not even for the obvious threats he’s made against my career, my finances, my life.

I want to slit his throat for touching someone who doesn’t belong to him. Even when she technically did. I want him hung by his toes to drain the blood from his body, just for the simple fact that she ever gave him a single compliment, kiss, orsmile.

Jesus. Maybe the mountain airispoisoning me.

Violet follows me out of the bathroom, halting my hands as they close my shirt. She takes over, doing up each button with nimble fingers I had in my mouth and hair just this morning. Fingers that ripped the mask off my face when she was ready to come so she’d be able to see my reactions to her pleasure.

And I realize it isn’t the mountain that’s the problem. I’m not going mad because of altitude sickness, but of my complete and utter addiction to this woman.

“You were right,” she says, leaving the first two buttons undone and smoothing her hands over the collar. Her touch sends ripples of wicked desire along my neck, raising the hairs there. “I don’t want nice. Not when it’s just a mask worn to hide their true intentions.”

I smirk, feeling somewhat placated. My arms slide around her waist, tugging her close as my cock stirs to life. “Ah, but you love masks.”

Her eyes twinkle. “I loveyours.”

32

The New England Art Academyis a small private university, tucked among the farmland, about an hour outside of Boston. At first glance, it looks more like a miniature castle than a school with its gray stone towers, stained-glass windows, and sharp, cone-shaped roofs. Not to mention the moat and surrounding security wall.

The main building sits before a massive courtyard, and there are buildings surrounding it on either side, which Grayson tells me are dormitories for a select number of students—usually the best of the best in their programs—and faculty accommodations for those who choose to remain on campus.

There’s a decided lack of pretty foliage around though, and I can’t imagine staying here for longer than the length of a meeting. Which is exactly how long Grayson said we’d be, and then we’d go meet Cora and Alistair for lunch.

I’m still not convinced on bringing him along, but he isn’t going to take no for an answer. So, I’m indulging him because he indulges me, and life is about balance.

We’re dropped off in a roundabout at the front entrance of the main building. Janus holds the door for us, stone-faced as Grayson gets out, though he offers a hand when I do. I take it curiously, as this is the first time he’s interacted with me in the time I’ve been at the James estate.

His long black hair is pulled back in a small bun at the base of his neck. When I release his hand, he starts after Grayson, reaching up to the back of his head and rubbing at a spot there.

I cock my head, my brows etching together when he winces, then break into a jog to catch up to them. Inside, the building is almost silent with a giant crystal piano sculpture taking up the center of the lobby.

“Are you okay?” I ask Janus, sliding a bottle of pain reliever from my handbag. “Do you need something for a headache?”

He turns to look at me, his sharp features turning down at the edges. “What I need is for you to go away.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “What?”

He looks over his shoulder at Grayson, who’s several feet ahead of us, being greeted by the freakishly tall man with the blue-black hair I remember from the night of my attack. I didn’t realize he worked here, but I suppose it makes sense.

Janus takes a step in my direction, lowering his voice. “Get out of here while you can, little girl.”

“Get out?” I echo, kicking myself internally for resorting to parroting. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Just shakes his head and sneers in disgust, likeIjust threatenedhim. I stand there, staring blankly, as he turns on his heel and stalks out of the building. Off to continue his job as security for the man I’m pretty certain is in love with me.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Grayson looks my way, waving his hand in a come-hither gesture. Soon, I’m seated across from a polished mahogany desk, half-listening to the conversation around me as I try to reconcile what the hell just happened.

Maybe it wasn’t a threat at all, but a genuine warning. If he saw what happened to Micah’s sister, maybe… maybe he’s concerned with it happening to me as well. Nate definitely thinks there’s a pattern here, so it would serve to reason that others might too.

Still, I can’t shake the slimy sensation off my shoulders. I’m aware I should tell Grayson, but I’m not sure I should do it in the presence of this stranger, so I keep quiet.

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