Page 75 of Love is Angry

“I told you what happened.”

“Yeah? Just like you ‘told me what happened’ with Madison?”

His eyes narrow and his face begins to turn a deep shade of red. “You keep bringing that slut up,” he says. “You got something you want to say, you better fucking say it.”

I lean forward and lower my voice. “You’re a fucking rapist.”

For a moment, I’m absolutely certain that he’s going to kill me. Then the door opens overhead and footsteps ring on the stairs. A nervous-looking rookie gives Julian a curt nod as he walks by us and out into the lobby. By the time the door swings shut behind him, Julian’s regained a portion of his control.

“You’ve gotten way too brazen, you know that? This—" He snaps his fingers. “––is all it would take for me to disown you and leave you to fend for yourself. The world isn’t what you think it is, Rhue. You won’t survive without me, my money, and my reputation. Whatever you decide to do going forward, you better think carefully, son. Because if you force me to sever ties with you, there will be no turning back.”

“You do what you need to do,” I tell him. “I’ll do the same.”

Even if it means war.

Chapter 33

Madison

I’m so hungover. I had the worst feeling all night, a vague sense of dread that I couldn’t seem to shake. Drowning it in alcohol didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, and so that’s exactly what I did. Bad idea. I’m pretty sure my liver is never going to be the same.

“Ugh—never again,” I groan, rolling away from the sunlight streaming through my window. At least I made it back to my dorm room before passing out. Small victories and all that.

“I hear that,” says a groggy voice from the floor. I roll to the edge of my bed and blink blearily down at a nest of blankets, pillows, and laundry. Rita squints up at me from the depths of the pile. Lindsey is passed out beside her, draped over Cameron. They’re both snoring. How the hell did I sleep through that?

“Your phone wouldn’t shut up,” Rita says, groping around in the pile. Eventually she finds my phone by following the charger cable, and hands it to me. “So I put it on silent. I wasn’t snooping or anything, but I was hella drunk and it took me a minute to find the volume so I saw some of it. Somebody really fucking hates you.”

My heart plummets. Is Rhue going off on another one of his tangents? What did I do this time?

I fumble with my phone for a second, then groan as the bright screen assaults my poor tender eyes. There are over a dozen texts from an unknown number. My heart pounds so hard it hurts as I open the messages.

9:03 AM: Did you think I wouldn’t find out?

9:13 AM: I told you what would happen, little girl.

9:42 AM: You must really hate your life, you fucking slut. Running your mouth like that is how you ruin it. Is that what you want? Don’t think I won’t keep my word. Real men always keep their word.

“Which man?” I growl, frustrated and worried. What the fuck did I do last night?

“What?” Rita asks.

“Nothing. Just—hold on.”

“Mm.”

10:05 AM: I don’t think you’re taking this seriously

10:36 AM: Okay you know what? I’m a nice guy I can be a nice guy you want me to be a nice guy I’m a nice guy this is your last chance

I have to read that one twice. Whoever this is lost all of their punctuation. Then they lost most of their vocabulary. The next three texts are just strings of cuss words and gibberish.

“What the fuck are you even trying to say,” I mutter at the phone.

“You got to the coke texts, huh?”

“What?”

Rita peels one eye open and squints up at me. “The angry nonsense? Yeah. Straight-up cokehead shit. My ex used to get like that after a couple lines.”

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