Page 10 of No Saint
“If anyone should profit from Brent’s misfortune, it should be me.” My voice wasn’t as steady as I would have liked.
“Really?” He stepped forward until his firm stomach pressed against my chest.
With the girl he, no doubt, intended to fuck standing right there, the contact should have repulsed me. Instead, it felt like my entire body came out of some long hibernation, like he was breathing life back into dormant parts of me. God, I hated him.
A smirk played on his lips. “Because you would have made so much money from a torched car…”
“I’d have gotten satisfaction!” Frustration bubbled up. “You didn’t earn a cent of that. You weren’t the one who gave him everything, only to find him face down in another girl’s pussy.”
Wolf’s nostrils flared. His chiseled jaw ticced. “Do you think I give a shit what you did for that fucking asshole?” Wolf leaned down, bringing his lips close to my ear. “You’re not my charity case anymore, Jade.”
The blow landed exactly as I knew he’d intended, rupturing an old wound. If not for him pitying me, Wolf never would have given me the time of day. He’d just confirmed that bitter truth.
I swallowed back the hurt, attempting to hide the pain from him. There were a hundred things I wanted to lash out with, but unlike him, I wasn’t cruel. “No, now I’m just a stranger.” I held his gaze for a second, hoping my comment affected him, but nothing broke through that cold stare. His indifference cut far worse than his venom. “And you’re just another frat asshole with daddy issues.”
That hard veneer flickered for a moment, revealing the hurt beneath. I hated myself for saying something so hurtful. I knew how much losing his dad would have hurt Wolf. But he’d hurt me, repeatedly.
Without another word, I turned around and shoved through the crowd, looking for Cassie’s blond hair in the fray. I wanted to get the hell out of that stupid house. As far away as possible from Wolf and the pain of being near him.
I stopped at the foot of stairs, the party blasting behind me as I stared up the long stairwell. Cassie was probably up there, screwing Rogue, even though she’d sworn on her grandma’s grave she would never touch his “riddled dick” again. Last month, it was her dog, Scooter’s grave, and the month before that, her beloved goldfish, Chips. By next month, she’d have run out of graves.
I grabbed the railing and headed upstairs, cursing at her under my breath. When I reached the top, one of the bedroom doors flew open.
Cassie stormed out in a flurry of blond hair and rage. “I hate him!” she shouted over the music, followed by furious hand gestures and a tirade I only caught about three words of.
She fell silent when Rogue stomped out of the same room, slamming the door behind him before he brushed past us. His designer shirtsleeves had been rolled to reveal the expensive-looking—and by that I meant, really good—tattoos. Nothing like the crap ink the Dayton guys had. No matter how much Rogue tried to play up the bad boy persona, he couldn’t hide his wealth. Not that he was really trying all that hard. The guy drove a Range Rover, and if rumors were to be believed, hegaveawayMolly every weekend. That was probably why the party was so packed. If there was one thing students loved, it was free shit and drugs.
Cassie glared after him as he descended the stairs. Her nostrils flared right before she latched onto my arm, wobbled onto one foot, and yanked off her shoe. She lifted it above her head, seemingly about to throw it at Rogue’s retreating back.
“Okay.” I grabbed her raised arm. “Let’s just go.” Before we were kicked out for impaling the frat president with a stiletto. “Two days and he’ll be knocking on our door, worming his way back into your pants. Like always.” No matter how many times they broke up, she couldn’t seem to hop off the ride that was Rogue Van de Kut.
“Nope. Not this time.” She slipped her high heel back on. “I’m done, Jade.”
“Sure you are.”
She said the same thing about drinking every time she had a hangover. But she still got drunk the next weekend. Rogue was the equivalent of that nasty vodka Cassie got from the store for eight bucks. Her gaze snapped to me, and the rage evaporatedfrom her features suspiciously fast. “Okay, we’ll go,” she said. “But I need to pee first.” She pulled me through the same door she and Rogue had exited.
“Wait—”
It slammed behind us, muting the noise of the party beyond to a low hum.
The room reeked of expensive cologne. Coughing, I turned my head and fanned it out of my face. My attention landed on the black and gold Louis Vuitton comforter covering a king-sized bed. Only Rogue would have designer bedding… “He leaves his door unlocked? Doesn’t he care about people fucking on his bed?” My gaze skimmed past the bathroom doorway to the bank of computer screens on the desk in the corner. “Or stealing his shit?”
“No one would dare,” she said, ducking into the bathroom.
Because, as rich as he was, Rogue did have a reputation. Whether it was the guy himself or the questionable people he surrounded himself with, I wasn’t sure. Either way, most people on campus had a healthy dose of fear for the rebel rich boy.
“And on that note, I don’t think we should be in here.” I glanced around the room like Rogue would jump out at any moment. Knowing that walking lack of self-preservation, it would be with a girl. Because when he and Cassie fought, he always tried to get a rise out of her. And rise she did, like an avenging, angry phoenix, torching everything in her path. I didn’t want to be involved in their messed-up version of foreplay. “There are other bathrooms, Cassie.”
“Have you been in them?” Her voice echoed off the tile. “They’re disgusting.”
I had to give it to her. Rogue’s room was surprisingly clean and tidy. Although he probably had a maid. “I’m shocked he doesn’t have a gold-plated four-poster bed.”
“He’s not the lord of Pikestown, Jade.”
Try telling him that. A clatter came from the bathroom, followed by a crack.
“Cass, what are you doing?” I crossed the room and peeked through the cracked door.
