Page 568 of Lessons in Cruelty

“Is that…” Her nose wrinkles faintly as she studies the passenger seat. It’s hardly visible on the red leather after I gave it a quick scrub the other day, but there are still traces of Haven’s body paint smeared over the upholstery.

“Don’t worry, it won’t stain.”

She looks at me like she wouldn’t trust me to dry clean her gym clothes if someone held a gun to her head.

“Christ. I’ll replace your entire wardrobe if you get so much as a smudge on your beautiful dress.”

There it is.

The faintest little flush on her cheeks.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she says airily. “This is Chanel.”

Like I give a fuck.

I try to make my smile less stiff as she reluctantly slides into the seat beside me, her designer perfume filling the car with notes of jasmine and something even sweeter beneath. She turns to shake out her umbrella before putting it down at her feet.

She turns to give me a nervous smile that fades when she sees my expression.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I say as I pull out of the parking lot.

She scoffs. “Seriously?”

I glance at her, raising my eyebrows, and the incredulity fades from her face. “I’ll be beyond pissed if I go to all this trouble only to find out you care more about clothes than you do about your future.”

“Please.” Her manicured nails sparkle as she guides the seatbelt over her pristine dress. “I give at least half a shit about my education.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

She makes a pleased humming sound when I turn on the stereo and Adiago for Strings flows through the speakers.

Another confirmation that I’m currently playing into multiple fantasies little Melissa has had running through her rigorously controlled mind since puberty.

When we stop at a red light, she turns to give me another quick smile. I turn in my seat, wrist draped over the steering wheel.

“Look at me.”

She stiffens, but her body turns as if she’s not in control of it anymore.

I brush a strand of hair from her face where it caught on her lip gloss, my knuckle grazing over her cheek.

“My apologies, Miss Parker. That was very distracting.”

She slowly faces forward again, lips parted, eyes wide.

I allow myself a small smile as I turn onto Earl Avenue.

I’ll always remember our first touch, just how I’ll always remember our last.

Do you remember our first touch, Haven?

What about you, Kai?

My hands creak against the leather as I tighten my grip. Rain dashes itself against the windshield, my wiper blades struggling to keep up with the deluge.

Don’t you wish it would stop, Billy?

I do.

I wish I could go to sleep and never wake up.

But then I think of you, and I can’t sleep.

It’s never going to stop, is it, Billy?

Never, ever, ever.