Page 21 of Revenge At Raleigh High
I don’t even hesitate. “I’dneverwalk away. I couldn’t. No matter what was going on, I’d always be there for you.”
“So what makes you think I’m any more capable of abandoningyou, Alessandro Moretti? I’ve already been through hell and back andyouwere the one who helped pull me out. I love Ben. He’s the sweetest kid. Helping you take care of him won’t be a burden, it’ll be a pleasure, but that’s beside the point. Whatever happens, no matter how difficult, I’m never going to bail on you just because things get hard.” She smiles softly, placing a light kiss against my mouth…and I just sit there, rigid as a post.
Goddamnit, Moretti, what the fuck iswrongwith you? Get your shit together.
I eventually remember to kiss her back, but I probably do a piss-poor job of it. My head’s reeling, see. From what I’ve learned of people over the past seventeen years, people do not stick around when the going gets tough. They disappear in a puff of smoke, so quick you can’t see them for dust. My father left. The boys’ home turfed me out at the first signs I might be a ‘troubled kid.’ After that, it was a slew of foster families closing their doors on me and Ben, one after the other. Even my mother bailed on us. Yeah, she was sick, and looking back now it had been a long time coming, but she made a decision when she put that gun in her mouth. She decided that ending her own life was preferable to hanging around and taking care of her sons. Only one person remained constant for more than a six-month period after my mother died, and that was Gary Quincy. Horrifying, really, since Gary put a roof over my head for one reason and one reason alone: so he could fucking break me.
And now, here’s Silver—an impossible girl, who shouldn’t even exist. Too strong. Too fierce. Too beautiful. Too perfect. And somehow, against all sense of reason, logic and justice, she’s fuckingmine. She just looked into my eyes and told me she’d stay by my side, no matter what, and I damn well believed her. None of it…fuck, none of it makes sense.
Silver rests her head against my chest, snuggling into my side, and I’m overcome with a paralyzing sense of falling—a dizzying, unbalanced, nauseating sensation that has panic rising up the back of my throat in hot waves. This feelssogood, being here with her. It feels like life is finally taking a turn for the better, and that’s fucking terrifying. Because real life doesn’t just do a one-eighty and suddenly everything just fucking works out. It just fucking doesn’t. Something terrible always happens. Something brutal and soul destroying, and all the good feels like it’s being sucked right out of the world.
I’ve been too bad to deserve anything this good. The universe has forgotten about the shit-kicking it decided was my birth right and appears to have gone on vacation, but it won’t be long before it remembers what a worthless piece of shit I am and sets the natural order of things back in motion.
In the meantime, I have no real choice. I’m going to choose to believe that Silver will stand by me when I get custody of Ben. I’m gonna make sure I enjoy every single goddamn second I get to spend with her. I’m going to try not to think about it, to overanalyze every passing moment. I’m going tohope. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous thing of all.
* * *
The guest bedroom Cameron assigns to me is on the ground floor. There are two other guest rooms upstairs, but Silver’s dad is obviously keen on putting as much space between me and his daughter as possible. I get it. It makes perfect sense, and I’m happy to play by his rules. Well, maybe not happy, per se. Let’s call it grudgingly willing. It’s fucking torturous, though, knowing that Silver is in bed upstairs, less than fifty feet away, and I’m forbidden from falling asleep with her naked in my arms. That’s the crux of it—the whole forbidden thing. Fruit’s overrated, but the second someone makes it forbidden, I suddenly have a taste for that sweet sugar.
The guest room’s masculine, the walls painted slate grey with a deep maroon feature wall. The sheets on the king bed are grey to match the walls, patterned with a neat black pinstripe. Heavy brass instruments sit on top of the chest of drawers and are being used as book ends on the shelves—they look like they were designed for calibration and taking measurements. Architectural knick-knacks, most likely. On the wall above the bed, a huge gilt frame mirror dominates the room, reflecting back the space, making it appear even larger than it already is.
The Parisis aren’t just well-off, I realize, as I shrug out of my shirt, hanging it over the back of the leather armchair by the window. They’re fuckingrich. The well-heeled, quiet kind of rich that makes me think there’s old money involved. New money speaks much louder than the understated luxury of Silver’s place. It screams. There’s nothing showy or over-the-top here. If it weren’t for the sheer size of the place, the colonial columns, the ostentatious length of the driveway, and the solid quality of all the furniture, you’d easily think you were in a very normal, middle-class American home.
It's late, almost one in the morning, and Cameron’s still in his office two rooms over, hammering away at his keyboard. I climb into bed, trying not to sigh out loud like a fucking loser when I feel the sheets against my bare skin. I have no idea what makes them so different to the sheets on the bed back at the trailer, but they’re cool and crisp and make me shudder with pleasure.
I’ve never been great about falling asleep quickly in new places. I’m ready to spend the next hour tossing and turning, my mind speeding at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, worrying about Ben, but then…
…I’m out fucking cold.
* * *
“Alex?”
I stir, turning over onto my back.
“Alex?”
Skimming the surface of consciousness, thoughts begin to form in my sleep-clouded head.
“Alex! Wake up, for fuck’s sake. I’m freezing my ass off here!”
My eyes snap open, and for a suspended moment I’m confused as fuck. Where the hell am I? And who the hell is grumbling at me in the dark? It takes a swift pinch to my side to jump start my brain, and I remember Cameron coming to get me at the trailer.
Silver’s standing beside the bed, framed in the moonlight that’s pouring in through the window behind her. Arms and legs bare, she’s wearing a silk camisole and tiny little red silk shorts—nothing more than scraps of fabric that leave very little the imagination. Her nipples are erect, peaked beneath the lacy detailing on the camisole, and my dick stirs, quicker to rouse than the rest of me. Her hair’s loose, hanging down past her shoulders in thick waves. Her features are cast into shadow, but I can just about make out the shape of a frustrated smile as she prods my chest through the bedsheet.
“Move over. I’m gonna catch hypothermia in a second.”
My first thought is to throw back the covers, grab hold of her by her hips, and pull her down on top of me. I’m barely awake, and my body is craving her desperately. But…
I groan, scrubbing at my face with one hand. “Silver. Fuck. Your dad’ll freak out if he knows you slept in here.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” she whispers. “I’ll be tucked up, back in my own bed in an hour. He’ll never know.”
Oh, come on.My dick’s well past stirring now. I’m hard as fuck. All I can think about is driving myself deep into the back of Silver’s throat. “Argento. You’rekillingme. I’m trying to be the good guy here.”
“Oh. Hmm.” She hums softly, as if she’s a little disappointed. “And here I was, looking for the bad boy I fell in love with. I didn’t realize he’d left in the night without saying goodbye.”
Well. Fuck. Me. Running.I shift in the bed, pulling myself up to lean my back against the mahogany headboard. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I can see even more of her now. She knew what she was doing when she came down here in those night clothes. The clingy fabric hugs the curve and swell of the underside of her tits, accentuating their shape and fullness, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning out loud.
