Wicked Princess Page 43

A horrifying thought hits me. Maybe distance is what he wants.

I mentally slap my face because that’s crazy talk. Stone’s given me no indication that he wants to end things.

Quite the contrary actually.

“I know.” Jumping to his feet, Stone shuffles back into his sweatpants. “Which is exactly why I want you to move in here.”

I stare at him, silently pondering if the sex we just had scrambled his brain.

“You want me to move in here?” I repeat, making sure I understood him.

“Yeah.” Scoffing, he places a hand over his heart. “Oh, I’m sorry, princess. Is this apartment not good enough for you?”

The apartment is fine…it’s the woman who gave birth to him living in it that might pose a potential problem.

“Your mom doesn’t even like me,” I hiss. “Therefore, I’m pretty sure she’d hate the idea of me living here.”

He looks offended. “My mom likes you just fine.”

That’s a heaping pile of bullshit.

“You know, I might actually believe that if the woman ever bothered to say more than two words to me.”

Hell, his neighbors talk to me more than she does.

“She’s always been quiet.” Narrowing his eyes, he points a finger at me. “Stop thinking you’re so goddamn special that people need to roll out the red carpet and kiss your ass whenever you appear.”

Pure rage sears through my belly and I climb out of his bed and search for my clothes because arguing when you’re stark naked feels weird.

“Stop treating me like I’m some kind of snobby brat when you know I’m not like that.” I shimmy into my jeans. “Bottom line, even if your mom did like me—which she doesn’t. I want to live on campus so I can have the full college experience.” I open my arms wide. “But, hey—fuck me for wanting my boyfriend to be a part of that, right?”

His jaw tics. “Bianca—”

“Just let my dad give you the grant, Stone.” I pull my shirt over my head. “This way we can—”

“I’m not your goddamn charity case!” he roars so loud I jump. “Unlike you and the rest of your rich, pampered, stuck-up family, I don’t need your daddy to hand me everything on a silver platter.”

It would hurt less if he slapped me across the face.

My brothers and I might be well off thanks to our dad, but we work hard for the things we want.

Hell, I busted my ass to maintain my good grades so I could get into the psych program. Jace works his brain and fingers to the bone creating video games and has never accepted a dime from my dad past the age of fourteen. And Cole works his ass off on the football field—suffering through grueling games and practices all while pushing his body to limits most aren’t capable of—day in and day out.

The fact that Stone just reduced us to a bunch of pretentious, superficial, high and mighty assholes, shows what he really thinks about us.

It also makes him a hypocrite.

“You needed my daddy to get into the pre-med program,” I bite out before I can stop myself.

I immediately regret the words the second they leave my mouth, but it’s too late.

“Wow.” He flinches, his jaw bunching tight. “Didn’t take long for you to hold that over my head, huh?”

Dammit. That was a low blow. One I truly didn’t mean, but he shouldn’t have said those things either.

“I’m sor—”

“Fuck you,” he seethes.

Whatever. I’m not going to stand here and keep apologizing to him if he’s going to be like that.

I grab my purse off the floor. “I’m going home.”

He regards me like I’m nothing more than garbage on the side of the road. “Good.”

It’s tragic how in the blink of an eye, the best day can turn into the worst.

Chapter 35

The knock on my bedroom door lulls me from the constant loop of thoughts running through my mind.

The mean things Stone said.

The cruel things I said back.

How loving someone so much gives them the power to hurt you.

And how ironic it is that the only person who can fix my broken pieces is the same one responsible for causing the damage in the first place.

“Come in,” I croak out, my voice hoarse from all the crying I’ve been doing.

Everything was perfect with Stone and I…

Until it wasn’t.

The door opens, revealing a concerned Jace on the other side. “Your boyfriend’s downstairs.” Hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, he ambles inside my room. “He looks like someone killed his dog. What happened?”

That’s the thing…I don’t even know.

One second we were making love—soaring—while sharing this amazing moment together…and the next we were crashing.

It’s as if my heart is on a constant roller-coaster ride.

The lows are brutal, but the highs are so great—so addicting—it’s worth the price of admission.

But is it?—a tiny voice in the back of my head whispers.

Ignoring that negative voice—because nothing good ever comes from it—I peer up at my brother. “We got into a fight.”

Jace gives me a pointed look, as if he can see right through the bullshit in that way only the people who truly care about you can. “I figured as much.” He takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “What did you guys fight about?”

I’m not sure how to answer that. I can’t tell him about asking our father to get Stone into the pre-med program because Jace already paints Stone in a bad light and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.

I, can, however, give him part of the truth.

The part that matters.

“Stone got accepted into the pre-med program at Duke’s Heart,” I begin. “And since I got into Duke’s Heart, too, I brought up the possibility of us moving into a co-ed dorm, so we’d be able to see each other more. However, Stone said his financial aid doesn’t cover dorms.” I draw in a deep breath. “So, I simply mentioned that Dad’s company gives out grants and I could get him one…but then he freaked out and accused me of making him a charity case.”

Jace rubs his chin, appearing lost in thought before he speaks. “Well, as much as I want to take your side…I can also see where he’s coming from.”

To say I’m surprised—and a little offended—would be an understatement. “You’re kidding, right? What’s the big deal about him taking the grant money?”

Especially if it enables us to see each other more. Because isn’t that what matters most at the end of the day?

Jace laughs. “Because men have a little something called pride.” His expression turns serious. “We want to take care of our girl and support her…not the other way around.”

He’s got to be kidding me. “Wow, that’s a little sexist.”

“It’s not sexist,” he argues. “Men are biologically wired to take care of ourselves and take care of what’s ours. It’s just the way we love.” His brows draw tight. “And while Stone might not be my favorite person in the world, I do respect his strong work ethic.” He winces. “That said—it’s gotta be a pretty big blow to the ego if you’re struggling financially, and your girl suggests that her rich daddy swoop in to fix everything because you’re not able to give her what she wants…even though she meant well.”