Trembling fingers reach to cover my mouth. It’s as if the world turns upside down. I stagger back, hitting the bed. When I feel my purse, I search for my phone, staring at the disgusting gift in panic.
The only person I can think to call just left me, but I don’t care.
It rings to voicemail. I call again. It goes to voicemail once more. I leave one, telling him to fucking call me now.
The third time I call, he picks up. “Christ, Dee. I don’t want to talk to—”
A mixture of angry, fearful tears spring to my eyes. “Come back,” I croak out, emotion clogging my throat. As soon as I hear his voice, the stress of what’s happening crashes down on me, and I can’t stop it. It’s like the dam breaks.
“Delilah,” he growls, clearly not in the mood for any of this.
“Come back,” I whimper. “Someone left me something disgusting.” I take a deep breath. These next words have never been more true. “I need you.”
“What?” The car comes to a screeching halt in the background. “What is it? Fuck. I’ll be right there.”
“It’s... it’s...” I’m staring right at everything, but I can’t put it into words. The line goes dead in my hand. Lowering the phone, I keep a death grip on it like it’s a lifeline.
My gaze darts around the room while I wait for him to show. Clearly, whoever left this didn’t make it inside. I can feel good about that, except I brought it into my space. No matter how hard I try not to, I keep staring at the condom, the words written on the card spiraling through my head.
This is obviously because of my virginity. Keegan will tell me it’s just some joke one of these playboy assholes are playing with me, and that will be it. He’ll tell me it’s nothing to worry about and that I’m overreacting.
Except, that’s not the case at all. Keegan’s thunderous footsteps storm up the steps a few minutes later. My door flies open, and he darts his gaze around the room before finding the obvious culprits. He picks up the note, his gaze furiously eating up the words. He drops it almost immediately, his hands turning to fists. “Fucking assholes. I’ll kill them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t care who. I’ll burn them all to the ground.” He studies the flowers, the picture, and it’s then that he notices the condom. Whipping his gaze toward me, his white-hot fury is on display. “This was in there?”
I nod numbly. “In the paper. When I was trying to see what was on the picture, it fell out.”
Tears track down my cheeks. Keegan marches over, pulling me to my feet in an embrace that I go into willingly. He wraps his arms around me tightly, and I shiver at the thought of someone jerking off to my picture in that stupid magazine. No one cares about me. At least, no one should. People only know who I am because I’m rich. How pathetic is that? It’s not as if I’ve cured diseases or won a gold medal in the Olympics, or hell, done anything exciting with my life—yet. I’m nobody.
“It’s okay,” Keegan reassures. He rubs a reassuring hand up and down my spine. “I’ll take care of it. I’m so sorry, Delilah. So fucking sorry.” His fingers curl into my skin, almost as if he could crawl inside me if he could. The twinge of pain is reassuring, helping me stay tethered to the moment.
“What are we going to do?” I ask. As with anything that happens to people like us, it’s a game to figure out what to share with people. I don’t want to be the girl who got a threatening note and have it splashed all over the news. There are the Knights to think about, too. My family. My school. They won’t want any of that publicity.
What I hate most is that I have to think about any of this. Why does my mind immediately go into clean up mode?
“This is bad,” I say, voice breaking again.
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call my—”
“No,” I blurt. “We’re not calling your dad. It’s too fucking embarrassing. We’ll call mine.”
“I’llcall yours,” he affirms. “You’re doing nothing, but staying right next to me, so I can kill anyone who comes close to you.”
I grip him, and for a flash of a second while we stare into one another’s eyes, I see the innocent boy I knew when we were kids. It’s only there for a brief, wonderful moment, but here Keegan is again, saving my life.
“First, I’m taking you to my room,” he informs me. “You don’t need to see this right now. I’ll call your dad from my place.”
Keegan rubs my arms as he steps away. After grabbing my purse, he follows me down the stairs. It’s super late. No one else is around, so it feels like we’re two convicts trying to escape.
“I’m going to take care of you,” Keegan whispers against my temple while we walk toward the parking lot.
I take a deep breath as he helps me into the car. The short drive to his residence hall goes by quickly with his hand in mine. Just as he promised, he takes me up to his room. The penthouse, of course. Three walls in his bedroom have antique, arch shaped windows. The room itself is much larger than mine, furnished with refined taste.
Once he settles me on the bed, he goes into the bathroom. The faucet turns on, and his muffled voice makes it back into this room, but I can’t hear what’s being said until he walks back out. “She’s fine. She’s with me.” He nods as he listens to whoever is on the other side of the line before finishing with, “Let me know.”
I blink at him after he hangs up. “Was that my dad?”