Page 47 of Break Me
Thirteen
Two weeks pass too quickly,and Caden is back in Toronto while I’m still keeping my eyes peeled for Rolland. After his vague threat about Ava at Exile, I haven’t heard a fucking thing from that motherfucker.
I’ve relaxed the reigns on Ava a little, but not Riley, because she’s the main target and we both know it. I stopped dropping her off at the curb completely and walk her into the English building for class. She complains the entire way there, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder and give her a goddamn knuckle sandwich because I get it. It’s annoying. Who wants to be chaperoned around their own college campus?
But even though I feel for her, I’m not going to not do it.
I won’t make that mistake again. Putting my guard down.
Felix tells me Rolland hasn’t come back to Canada and I’ve got to trust that he knows what he’s talking about even if he missed his flight the first time. He’s getting antsy for more work. But I can’t negotiate any deals from a country away and I can’t leave Riley or Ava without Rolland Virani dead in the ground.
Caden’s father being alive is bad for my business.
And for me.
Because it means I’m spending much more time with Ava than I should be.
And when I see her English professor, Dr. Dumont, walk into the building as I part ways with Riley, it takes everything in me not to deck him in his stupidly punch-able face.
He’s wearing glasses and I can just imagine the sound they’d make if I drove my fist into them. He’s not an ugly guy. In terms of fucking married professors, Ava could do worse, but he’s just so…polished.
Is this the kind of guy she’s into?
He’s more like Caden than me, which means I am definitely not her type.
I realize I’m still scowling at his back as he goes through the double doors at the top of the stairs to the classroom where Ava will sit in front of him as he drools over her when I feel someone tugging on my arm.
I look down, and there she is, grinning up at me, her eyes flitting from the doors closing behind her professor, to me and the anger that must be apparent on my face.
I clear my throat and smooth my features, angling my head as I look down at her. Her hand is still around my arm. A few students nod in her direction, someone calls her name and she waves, but her eyes stay on mine.
“Why do you look like you want to kill Dr. Dumont?” she asks innocently. Because she has no idea that I know. How could she know that I can tap phones with only their number, hers included?
She couldn’t. She can’t know that.
I slip my hands in my pockets, trying to get the image of them fucking on his desk out of my head.
“I always wanna kill someone,” I answer easily. It’s not even a lie. “How’s your mom?” We went on a proper date last week after she had a gym session with her friend, Tess.
I learned that this girl is obsessed with clothes, and rather than being put-off by the way she called out every single thing I was wearing by brand, I was into it. Into her.
I shouldn’t be.
It’ll only make this harder for her. And me. This is nothing and will never be anything. We live in different countries and lead very different lives. Her father would kill me, and I never want to meet him.
Her face falls and she lets go of my arm. I almost wish I hadn’t asked, but the woman is dying. I’m sure, no matter how good of a façade she puts on, that Ava is thinking about it all the time anyway.
“Not good,” she answers, looking at the floor as she adjusts the strap on her backpack. She’s wearing a grey skirt, white blouse tucked in, almost like a schoolgirl except ten times hotter. Half of her hair is even pulled back in a black bow.
I tear my eyes from her pink lips and the freckle just above the top one, wanting to actually focus on what she’s saying and not imagine bending her over and fucking her right here in this stairwell.
“But she’ll never be good, will she?” she asks me, her those ocean-blue eyes on mine.
I take her hand gently, rubbing my thumb along her palm. “No,” I answer honestly, because from what she’s told me and what I know, she won’t get better. Her mom is going to die and pretending she’s not won’t do anyone any good.
I see her swallow, but she keeps her gaze on mine and I like to think she appreciates the honesty, but maybe she’s actually thinking I should go fuck myself.
Then I remember.
