Charleigh Rose

“Keep your sugar daddy money.” He smiles knowingly.

—softening Mr. James’ cold, cold heart.

I drive away, straight to the nearest mall.

Three, four, five pairs of smart, black-laced Oxford shoes in a few different sizes, just to be sure.

They’ll be waiting in her locker first thing in the morning.

Miss Stringer is not going to end up like my sister did. I will make sure of that.

“I’m going to hell for this,” he says.

“I’ll follow you down.”

“Don’t run from me, Miss Stringer. I’ll always catch you,”

“End what?” I repeat myself, because he still hasn’t answered me.

He leans forward and bites my lower lip with his straight, white teeth, whispering into my mouth, “Our secret.”

God, she’s beautiful when she’s sad. She made me want to slay all her dragons and then make her cry for me at the same time.

If I were a smart man, I would.

I’m not going anywhere this time, Remi.

Jesus Christ. Did I just call Remington Stringer my girlfriend?