Page 33 of Sinful Storms

“Yeah, because I don’t want them getting the wrong idea and thinking they’re my girlfriend.”Silence fell, and I replayed that sentence in my head. “Oh, fuck off! I didn’t mean Aria was my girlfriend. I meant she wouldn’t get the wrong idea because?—”

“—we hate each other,” Aria bit out, and I nodded quickly.

“Yeah. See. She knows.”

“I didn’t say anything about girlfriends.” Knox smirked at me in the mirror, and I gave him a warning look, which didn’t deter him at all. No, the fucker that was supposed to be my friend continued running his big mouth. “I just find it interesting how you gave Aria the hoodie and how she decided to wear it. That’s a pretty big statement coming from the two of you.”

“It clouded over, and I got cold. That was it. Nothing more to it. If people want to see things that aren’t there, that’s their problem. I don’t give a fuck what anyone wants to say about me. The golden boy isn’t about to give up his manwhore crown, so his legions of fans are safe, and anyone who knows me knows that he’s the last person on this planet I’d want as a boyfriend.”

Elena twisted in her seat to look at her friend. “Ignore Knox. He’s only trying to wind you up.”

“You did sleep together,” he pointed out.

“Hate sex is a thing,” Aria muttered, slumping back in her seat. I did my best to ignore the way she’d folded her arms beneath her tits and how the tight black top she was wearing gave me an amazing view of those pretty little curves.

“Yeah. You fucked Elena when you hated her. It happens,” I reminded my best friend, and a thoughtful expression came over his face.

“I don’t know if I did hate her. And I don’t think you two hate each other.”

Up ahead, the tall iron gates of Hatherley Hall came into view. “We’re here,” I said, changing the subject. I was only wasting my breath trying to defend myself. “Drop the girls off, and we’ll go to the sports centre. Saunders wants a debrief.” Shoving my hoodie inside my duffel bag, I zipped it up and then held out my hand to Aria.

“What?”

“The letter.”

She slapped it into my hand, and I carefully folded it and slid it back inside the envelope, tucking it into the side pocket of my duffel.

Why had Professor Watkins given me that letter? What was he trying to hide?

17

ARIA

Iscuffed the toes of my Converse across the gravel as I made my way to my doom. For anyone else, this would be a dream come true. Up ahead, the remaining single god of Hatherley Hall lounged against the side of his matte-black Aston Martin Vanquish, looking every inch the posh rich boy with his crisp white polo shirt tucked into beige chinos with a brown leather belt that matched his loafers, setting off his tan. His blond hair was tamed, swept to the side, and he was wearing a watch that I knew his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday and had cost as much as a term’s worth of our school fees.

As I drew closer, I took in the hard set of Tristan’s jaw. Aviators hid his expression from me, but it was easy to tell that he was just as happy about this situation as I was. Everything was moving so fast. When I’d contacted my grandparents after the lacrosse game to arrange to see them, my grandmother had immediately invited me to Sunday lunch. She’d then mentioned she’d heard that I’d been at Tristan’s parents’ mansion the previous weekend, and wouldn’t it be nice if Tristan came for lunch, too?A little while later, I’d received another phone call from her, and now, here we were. A table was booked at theSwan Inn in the Cotswold town of Morten-in-Marsh for twelve thirty, and Tristan and I would both be in attendance.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, maybe it was a good thing that he was coming. He could charm most people, and my grandparents liked him.

When I reached him, he pushed off the car, strolling around to the passenger side. He opened the door and then swept his hand out dramatically.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

“Can you turn it off for one day? Please.”

He straightened up, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. Clear blue eyes met mine. “Strictly business. Got it.” Turning on his heel, he strode around to the driver’s side of the car. I felt a flicker of guilt, but I couldn’t deal with our usual sniping today. I was too stressed about seeing my grandparents and bringing up a subject that I knew was upsetting to them.

When he slid inside the car and started up the engine, I stared out of the windscreen, unseeing. Was this really worth it? How badly did I need answers, anyway?

“Hey.” A warm hand slid onto my bare thigh, and I startled, my gaze flying to Tristan’s. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He removed his hand and lowered his sunglasses again, easing down on the accelerator. As the Aston Martin rolled down the long driveway towards the gates, the warmth of his hand remained.

To distract myself from thinking about that, I leaned forwards, tracing my fingertip across the centre console. We needed music to break up this thick silence. I stabbed at the screen, and Tristan batted my hand away.

“Careful. I’ll do it.” He quickly navigated to the music player, not even looking at what he was doing, and soft beats filled the car. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he glanced overat me before returning his attention to the road. “These speakers are so much better than the ones in my old Subaru.”

“I don’t care.”

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