Page 129 of I'm sorry, Princess
“I’m the best friend!” Sienna declares, throwing her hands up like she’s marking territory.
I can’t help but laugh. There’s something refreshing about her directness.
“Rude!” Kylie pouts.
“Sienna.” I say, nodding. I know who she is. Serena talks about her constantly. She’s the one blowing up Serena’s phone every time we’re together, conveniently interrupting my plans to bend her over every surface in my house.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Rude! Again!” Kylie pipes up, glaring at Serena. They’re funny, I’ll give them that.
“You better not fight with me for her attention,” Sienna teases, but her voice is light.
I grin. “Debatable.”
“You know,” Kylie tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You’re actually not that bad. With all this scary attitude, you seem pretty decent.”
Serena giggles and I shoot her a look.
“Uhm, thanks?” I reply, but inside I’m wondering how long they’re planning to stay here. I’ve got shit to do. Like take Serena home. And fuck the life out of her. Then plan our holiday.
“What about the scary giant behind you?” Kylie gestures behind me, voice suddenly serious. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”
Andres steps into view. Towering. Intimidating. Blood still crusted on his face from earlier. He’s a fucking sight. Sienna’s the tallest of the group, but next to him? They all look like they need booster seats.
“Andres,” he says, flat, bored, completely unbothered.
“Grumpy and mysterious. Yummy,” Kylie adds with a wink.
The girls burst out laughing. Andres doesn’t flinch. His expression stays blank, but I see the tiny twitch in his jaw. He’s amused.
I smirk.
This isn’t what I expected today. But for a moment, standing here with her in my arms, blood on my hands and her friends laughing in the background, I feel almost normal. Almost.
“My lunch is over, girls,” the brunette says with an annoyed edge in her voice. Clara, I think. She's got that constant judgmental tone like she’s waiting for someone toprove her right about how much of an asshole they are. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. See you soon?”
The rest of them start saying their goodbyes. Hugs. Air kisses. Laughs. It’s loud and messy and chaotic, exactly the kind of energy I avoid. Serena lingers a little longer, her eyes flicking to me like she’s torn between leaving with them and staying with me.
As if there’s a choice.
“Wait in the car,” I murmur into her ear, brushing a kiss just below it. Her breath hitches, and she nods, slipping out toward the Lambo, hips swaying in that short skirt like she knows what it does to me.
I head back into the club to grab my laptop from the office. But as I move through the hallway, I find her, Clara, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Her eyes narrow, watching me the way a surgeon watches a scalpel before cutting. Calculating. Cold.
“You're dangerous,” she says. No fear in her voice, just certainty. Not a question. A fact.
I pause, studying her. She doesn’t flinch.
“Please don’t hurt my friend,” she adds, quieter this time. But there’s steel in it. She’s worried about Serena. And she should be.
I don’t say anything. Just give her a slow, deliberate nod.
She turns and disappears down the hallway, heels tapping against the tile like punctuation.
I breathe out once, calm but sharp. She knows. Or she suspects what we are, and what we are doing. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not here for Clara’s approval.
