MasukAdrian didn't answer immediately. He stood there with his leather satchel slung over one shoulder, his eyes tracing the line of my expensive silk blouse and the diamond that felt like a lead weight on my finger. I knew what he was thinking. He saw a billionaire’s fiancé who lived in a house with thirty rooms trying to pretend she understood the struggle of a fifteen year old girl working a double shift in a grease trap."She doesn't want your help, Samantha," Adrian said. His voice was tired, lacking the bite it usually carried."Yeah... well...," I said, stepping closer to his desk. I kept my voice low so the few remaining technicians couldn't eavesdrop. " I can show her how to handle a rush so she doesn't go home crying. I can be the person she yells at instead of her taking it out on herself. Please, Adrian. Just give me the address."Adrian let out a long, heavy breath. He looked at the floor, then back at me. I could see the conflict in his eyes. He hated the Hale name, but he
I shifted under the silk sheets, feeling the familiar warmth of Jason’s arm draped over my waist. He was still asleep, his breathing deep and steady. For a second, I wanted to stay there forever, shielded by the walls of the mansion and the luxury that made everything feel soft.Then, the nausea hit.It was a sharp, rolling wave that started in my chest and crashed into my stomach. I carefully lifted Jason’s arm, trying not to wake him, and slipped out of bed. I made it to the bathroom just in time, sinking to the cold marble floor as my stomach revolted. It was over quickly, leaving me shaky and sweating. I rinsed my mouth and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked pale, the dark circles under my eyes standing out against my skin."Cheap ice cream," I whispered to my reflection. "That’s all it is."I didn't believe myself, but I wasn't ready to think about the alternative yet.I walked back into the bedroom to find Jason sitting up. He was leaning against the headboard, his hair
Jason's POVI watched her eyes, and her small hesitation told me everything I needed to know. Franklin didn’t lie, and he didn't exaggerate. If he said they were close, they were close."Is there something you want to tell me, Samantha?" I asked again. My voice was steady, but inside, the familiar possessive, jealous itch was starting to burn.She didn't answer right away. She looked down at the keyboard of her laptop, her fingers resting lightly on the home row. Then, she did something I didn’t expect. She let out a soft sigh and leaned away from the headboard, lifting her head off my shoulder. She turned toward me, her face softening in a way that usually made my chest tighten."I think I’d rather talk about your day instead," she said. Her voice was gentle and sweet. "You look like you’ve been through a war with those documents. What’s been keeping you up besides waiting for me?""Don't change the subject, Sam," I said, though the edge in my voice had softened slightly. "I’m asking
She sat there for a long moment to think about her life, staring at the dead computer screen and the empty, echoing silence of the lab. Her cheek still burned where Claire had slapped her, and her scalp still ached from where fingers had torn at her hair, and somewhere deep in her chest, humiliation ate her the hell up. But beneath all of that, beneath the fear, beneath the shame, beneath the sick, tight ache of failure, something older stirred. Samantha Torres had survived far worse people than some secretary. She'd survived poverty, stalkers, and a gang of kidnappers. She'd survived Michaela's antics and embarrassment, having the entire country, even the Mayor, turn on her and make her a public laughingstock online. She even had to handle Tiffany Langley and her accusations. She'd been to prison for fucks sake! Sure, Claire was nasty and vicious, but Claire was not anything new to Samantha, and when it came down to it, she was definitely not unbeatable. Her parents
She sat there for a long moment to think about her life, staring at the dead computer screen and the empty, echoing silence of the lab. Her cheek still burned where Claire had slapped her, and her scalp still ached from where fingers had torn at her hair, and somewhere deep in her chest, humiliation ate her the hell up. But beneath all of that, beneath the fear, beneath the shame, beneath the sick, tight ache of failure, something older stirred. Samantha Torres had survived far worse people than some secretary. She'd survived poverty, stalkers, and a gang of kidnappers. She'd survived Michaela's antics and embarrassment, having the entire country, even the Mayor, turn on her and make her a public laughingstock online. She even had to handle Tiffany Langley and her accusations. She'd been to prison for fucks sake! Sure, Claire was nasty and vicious, but Claire was not anything new to Samantha, and when it came down to it, she was definitely not unbeatable. Her parents
“Run?” I repeated, because my brain was still buffering. “Run where?!” Neither Kieran nor Rowan answered. Kieran grabbed my wrist, Rowan grabbed my other arm, and suddenly I was being yanked between two of them and we were sprinting like track stars on steroids. “Wait! What the hell is happening?!” I half-screamed, half-wheezed, my bare feet slapping against damp earth as I tried desperately to keep up with them. “Wait, what was that howl? Who the hell was that? Oh my God, what's happening?" I had died, died by the hands of a Dorito chip of all things, and woken up in this medieval nightmare hellscape, and now now I was being chased down to my death by a bloodthirsty God knows what. “Quiet,” Kieran snapped without looking back. “Quiet?!” I tripped over a root, barely caught myself. “You can’t just drop me into the middle of Twilight but with rabies and tell me to be quiet!” Rowan shot Kieran a glare over my head. “You’re scaring her.” “She should be scared, fear will keep her m







