Page 110 of Frozen Hearts
“Me? Why?”
Royce arches an eyebrow. “Because he is under the deluded belief that your presence is required for him to play well.”
“And what if I don’t want to go?”
Chuckling darkly, he holds out a hand to pull me up. “If whatever is going on between you two is real, then you’ll come because you want what’s best for him.”
With a sigh of defeat, I slip my hand into his and allow him to help me to my feet.
“Fine, I’ll go, but there is nothing going on between me and Logan. Not anymore.”
“Sure, you tell yourself that, James.” He eyes me a moment longer. “You know, the two of you might just make the perfect couple. You’re both as deluded as each other.”
I elbow him in the ribs, smiling when he grunts in pain.
“Well, I can’t go dressed like this, so I’ll need my clothes returned before tomorrow night.”
Royce’s eyes drop down to my bare legs, lingering as a coy smirk plays along his lips. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
“You asshole. You know damn well I can’t go like this. Just like I can’t do whatever Grayson has planned for me on an empty stomach, so since you’re keeping me captive, I demand that you feed me.”
He snorts. “Why do I feel like I’m the one being turned into the minion?”
I smirk back at him until he leaves to get me some sustenance. However, by the time I’ve finished eating, I’m left with nothing to distract me as I wait for tonight’sfestivitiesto commence, and the food twists in my stomach precariously until I regret eating anything at all.
Soon enough, I hear their footsteps approaching. I’m a ball of stress, and my heart threatens to explode out of my chest as the door opens and the three of them stand like ominous silhouettes in the doorway.
Grayson tosses a bag at my feet. “Put that on.”
With shaking hands that I hope he can’t see, I open the bag and pull out the clothing within.
My stomach hollows out as I stare at the slutty cheerleader outfit. “Really?” I sigh.
“I know how much you always wanted to be one,” Grayson drawls, seeming far too fucking smug.
Yeah, I contemplated it for all of .2 seconds because Grayson played on our high school football team, and I thought it would be a good way to get him to notice me. Nevertheless, once his father started stealing pieces of my soul for himself, I stopped thinking of Grayson altogether.
Tossing it on top of the bag, I snark, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve moved on from high school dreams.”
“Tough shit. None of this is about what you want,” Grayson retorts, marching toward me.
I swear the skin around my throat throbs with every step he takes closer, and my body vibrates with the urge to retreat. Every muscle is pulled taut as I force myself to remain in place, air sealed in my lungs as I track his every move.
“Grayson,” Royce warns, his tone sharp enough to stop Grayson in his tracks, several feet from where I stand.
His gaze drops briefly to the visible bruising on my still tender skin and his features tighten almost imperceptibly, eyes flashing with what looks like… regret? Except it’s gone in the next second and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.
“Get dressed,” he barks in the next second, confirming that any guilt I saw was concocted by my own imagination.
I shake my head in disappointment as he storms across the room, before shifting my attention to Royce and Logan. I arch a brow, and the two assholes smirk at me with zero intention of stepping in and putting a stop to this madness.
Mentally cursing all three, I turn my back on the room and snatch up the cheerleader outfit as heavy, sultry music starts playing.
“Happy?” I snipe once I’m dressed, spinning to face the room in my bright yellow and blue skirt that should be remade as a belt because it’s so short and a matching crop top that pushes my breasts together and is one deep inhale away from splitting at the seams.
“Fuck,” Logan rasps, drawing my attention in time to watch his throat bob as he swallows, his eyes slowly raking up my legs and over my torso. I suddenly recall our conversation where we teased about me being his own personal cheerleader.
“I’m totally picturing you in a short little skirt, a tight crop top, and your hair tied up in one of those high ponytails. Do you own pom poms? ‘Cause you might make me come in my pants for a second time today if you do.”
