Page 38 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“Then what is it I’m paying for, Luna? Besides the hassle?”
“My sunny disposition.” I bare my teeth at him, acting like his comment didn’t sting. The doorbell rings, and I roll my eyes.“Oh, wonderful. The tutor.”
Vince mutters something as he takes off to answer the door.
My phone flashes a notification, and I grab it and read the text message.
We still a go?
Oh, shit. I completely forgot about my belated birthday plans.
“Mr. Vincenzo.” The tutor giggles.
Gritting my teeth, my thumbs rage-peck my response.
All systems go.
I pocket my phone and walk to the living room. “There she is,” Vince says to me.
“Luna, are you ready?” The tutor flashes the fakest smileI’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something from a girl who attended the most uppity private school in all of Jersey.
Ignoring them both, I plop down on the floor and grab my study guide.
“Ladies, I’m gone,” Vince says.
“Good,” I mutter under my breath.
“Bye, Mr. Vincenzo.” My tutor watches him walk out the door, waiting until he’s long gone before turning her narrowed eyes to me. “What is your relationship to Mr. Vincenzo?”
“What’s it to you?” I counter.
“Are you a relative? He’s not old enough to be your dad,” she speculates.
“No, but he is old enough to be mydaddy,” I say, just to fuck with her.
She gasps, looking like she might fall out of her chair.
My lips curve into a cruel smile. “Aww, did you think you were going to move in on Vince? Sor-ry, beat you to him.”
“I,” she stutters.
“There’s the door.” I jerk my head. “Fucking use it.”
She bristles. “Mr. Vincenzo hired me. I don’t answer to you.”
“Whatever.” I grab a practice test and set a timer on my phone, getting to work.
A few hours go by, and my tutor excuses herself to the bathroom.
I tiptoe to the kitchen, carrying a chair down the hallway and propping it under the bathroom door handle.
Grabbing my bag, I hustle out the front door and sprint down the sidewalk, keeping pace until my side catches and I’m sucking wind. I slow to a stop, doubling over with my hands on my thighs.
A luxury car pulls up the curb, and Olivia rolls down the window. “Hurry up and get in before I get carjacked.”
I open the door and climb into the passenger seat, and she punches the accelerator.
“Why am I picking you up in the slums?”
