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He closed the distance and put his hands on my waist.
“Relax, Andie,” he murmured.
“You’re high. You just snorted cocaine.”
A sardonic smile flickered across his face. “I didn’t get the chance. I was too busy chasing after my cousin. I’d hate for anything to happen to you out here.”
I flushed. “I don’t belong in your world. I shouldn’t have come.”
His smile faded. “But you accepted my invitation. You knew this would be new. Different. You wanted that, didn’t you?”
I stared down at his hands circling my waist, my heart still pounding. “Why’d you invite me, Will?”
“To do you a favor. Give you a break from your sad little life.”
“You know nothing about my life!” I gasped.
“You said a forest is your friend.”
“That was three years ago!” I protested, amazed that he remembered. “And you obviously didn’t like your life either, because you wanted to run away!”
Will blinked. “That was then. We were kids.”
Embarrassment washed over me. Of course he hadn’t meant it. Who would want to run away from so much luxury and privilege?
His stance shifted, his feet spreading further apart. Making him bigger. “Why’d you say yes, Andie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He caught my chin in his hand. “Tell me.”
“I was curious,” I whispered. “I like stories; I like to observe. I wondered about your world.”
“Is that all?” His grip was steady, his voice mild. In the dark, his green eyes were narrowed like a panther’s.
I hated him, all of a sudden. How dare he call my life sad? And little?
“I’m here for material,” I flung in his face.
“Material?” His brow furrowed.
“For a newspaper article. ‘The Care and Feeding of the Rich.’ A tell-all about your stupid excesses and your mean jokes and how you can’t even clean up your own spilled drinks. You’re a bunch of spoiled babies.”
His face worked. For a second, he looked stunned, like I’d slapped him. Then his teeth bared, and he laughed at me. “You wish. You're salivating, Andie. I've practically seen the spit running down your chin all day. You're fucking wet for wealth.”
“Shut up! I don't care about that.”
“Sure you do. The care and feeding of the rich? You’re dying for it. I’ll show you how to feed the rich.” He pulled me toward him.
“Stop it! I hate you.”
“Oh no, Andie. No, you don’t.”
I pushed angrily on his chest. “You know nothing about me or my life. You didn’t ask me a single thing about myself all day.”
“Well, you didn’t ask me anything either.”
I stared at him. “Did you want me to?”
