Chapter 92

“When did you get here, Violet?” Paris asks.

I tilt my head. “What?”

“When. Did. You. Get. Here?”

Greyson snorts. “She’s more welcome than you.”

You know… when I want him to stick it to her, he doesn’t. He lets her climb all over him and sit close and flirt and fawn. And when I’d rather be anywhere but here, he tells her to shove it.

Lovely.

“Grey,” she tries.

Oh, hell no. “You did not just call him that.”

Her expression darkens. “Why, did you lay claim to that nickname?”

I cross my arms. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Jesus. Who would’ve thought I’d be arguing about a nickname… this whole night is a mind-fuck. And in the back of my head, I have Senator Devereux’s secretary reminding me of my agreement with them. The fact that my aquatic therapy costs hundreds of dollars that I don’t have to spare, and they’ve been footing the bill.

“You’re nothing special,” Paris snaps at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

I roll my eyes. I’m sick of her attitude, but I don’t have the energy to