Page 95 of Bitter Lies

Nodding, I try to say yes around the fear choking my throat, and finally, he lets me loose as he rolls away and sits against the side of the bed, clutching his head and rocking back and forth rapidly.

Gasping, I roll over and touch my neck, now tender from his fucking brutal hands, before I pull myself to my feet and rush to the door, escaping while Max sits where I left him.

Racing to my room, I don’t see anyone as I close the door behind me and lock it before sliding to the floor with a silent sob. I don’t know what to do. If I tell someone, will this put Max in danger? If I don’t, am I endangering him anyway?

Should I tell my parents? Or Griffin? I just don’t fucking know, and I’m scared.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I’m standing on the edge, and the stones are slippery.

After a sleepless night, I emerge the following morning grimly. I have no choice but to play the game until I can get out of here because Max is a loose cannon, and I stupidly put myself in his path.

What will he do if I don’t comply?

I know I should tell someone, but who’s going to believe me now? I’m the liar who almost ruined Jason’s life because I was hurt, he dumped me. Besides, I couldn’t bear for my mom to know…and the videos? Holy fuck.

With a sigh, I wrap up in a sweatshirt because although Max didn’t leave marks on my throat, I’ve got a few fingertip-size bruises on my arms. Hopefully, it won’t look too odd, considering it’s eighty degrees outside, and everyone else is in their bathing suits.

The hall is empty when I exit, and Griffin’s door stands open, like an invitation that I can’t resist. Cautiously I step inside, looking around like a skeevy jerk, but it’s empty, and I check the adjoining bath just in case, noting sourly that his room is three times the size of mine and fit for a prince. Ye gods, are those dual showerheads?

“Thinking about a shower?” Griffin asks silkily behind me, and I close my eyes.

Why? It’s like he has a sixth sense and can sniff out whenever I’m contemplating trouble.

Taking a deep breath, I screw my expression into nonchalance. “Well, you left me in the servant’s quarters. I’m comparing notes.”

“Oh?” he chuckles. “I’m offended. You don’t like the room I picked? Considering I was forced to bring you when your mother hates my guts, I guess you’ll have to deal, hm?”

Wincing, I turn back to him, noting he’s wearing nothing but board shorts, and he looks fucking hot, of course. Resisting the urge to lick my lips, I meet his hate-filled gaze and flinch because I guess the reminder of my mother didn’t go over well.

“Speaking of which, are you going to tell her you lied? Or shall I?” he asks icily.

My heart drops to my toes and circles the drain, and licking my lips for real this time, I say, “Um…”

“You weren’t planning to tell her? Maybe your saintly mother should know just how diabolical her fucking lying daughter is,” he says, his eyes flashing.

“Griffi—”

“Well? Was it a lie?”

Dropping my gaze, I nod because I don’t know what else to do.

He steps into my space and I suck in a quiet breath. “Why?”

“Why what?” Blindly, I stare at his chest, my heart in my throat.

“If you lied, just tell me why.”

The pleading note slays me and I search his gaze looking for whatever it is he sees when he looks at me. A liar? The old Halsey? The new version—lost and fucking scared?

But I can’t go back and forward means protecting the last of my shredded fucking dignity. So, I lie. Again.

“I,” I whisper, licking my lips. “I was ashamed. You know, of my behavior.”

He steps back with eyes so dark I shiver and wrap my arms around my middle.

“Enough,” he says, slashing his hand through the air with a pained expression. “I’m tired of the bullshit. You fucked a bunch of his friends. Who cares? Making up a story to feel better about yourself? Fucking disgusting. You’re a pretty little liar, Halsey Moore.”

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