I looked up at Spencer. He was quiet, his gaze holding mine. I didn’t expect an extravagant show of emotion, but his lack of response was high on the Creep-O-Meter.

“Pope, get the fuck out,” he clipped.

Pope sent me a questioning look as he stood, and I nodded, rising on my toes and kissing his lips softly. He flicked my ear, turned around, and walked to the door. There he halted, tapping the doorframe, his back still to us.

“I’m not scared of you, Spencer, and your little I’ll-fuck-you-up speeches do nothing to interrupt my sleep at night. But just for the sake of full disclosure, I have no romantic interest in your girl. She’s my friend. Which means I will always have her back. Which also means that if you make her happy, I’ll have no problem with you. But if you hurt her…” he trailed off, shaking his head on a chuckle. “Your big mouth and rich daddy won’t be able to save you from what I’ll do. ’Night, kiddos.” He shut the door behind him.

Vaughn stared at me, so furious his smooth skin was lined with wrinkles around his pinched eyebrows and twisted mouth.

“Take the handcuffs off,” he ordered.

I grabbed the keys from my nightstand and released him, forced to lean against him as I did. I could still feel the dull, pulsing heat of Rafferty’s mouth on my pussy, and it made me shudder above Vaughn, who clenched his tense jaw to the point of snapping, not even daring to breathe in my direction. As soon as I released him, he stood up, tightening his bootlaces.

He was leaving.

I pretended not to care, throwing myself on the mattress and picking up the fantasy book on my nightstand, taking out the bookmark where I’d left off. If he wanted to be a hypocritical bastard, he very well could, but not with me.

I thought he was going to walk out the door and come back once he’d cooled down, which would be in approximately a decade, judging by his mood. Instead, he launched toward the corner of my room, grabbed the drafting table, and smashed it against the wall, breaking it in half. Next came Pope’s shirt, which was still lying on the floor. He opened a window and threw it out, proceeding to turn to the wall and slam his fist against it. I heard the crack of bones and darted up, swallowing a yelp.

His hand.

“What are you doing?” I cried. “You’re going to hurt yourself. You’re not going to be able to work.”

Ignoring me, he walked toward the beige cloth, his hand dripping blood across my floor. He picked up the cloth and threw it aside, exposing my biggest weakness.

The sculpture.

Ruined. Destroyed. Yet somehow, still perfect in its own way.

He stood in front of it, tipping his chin up, whistling low, finally regaining some of his self-control.

“Someone caught feelings and decided to throw a fucking fit,” he bit out, not an ounce of pleasure in his tenor.

I ran to him, grabbing the cloth from the floor and shoving it back over the assemblage.

“You had no right.” I pushed his chest.

“Right?” He laughed bitterly in my face, pushing me back.

It was the first time Vaughn had been physical with me in a way that wasn’t consensual or warranted, the first time I’d ever heard him raise his voice. “There’s some dudebro walking around these halls with pussy breath and a shiny-ass mouth because you used his face as a seat, and you talk to me about rights? You’re fucking insane.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten involved with someone quite so deranged.

I hitched up a shoulder. “Speaking of double standards, how’s Arabella doing? Seen her recently? You know, not from above?”

Was she exclusive with my father? Christ, I didn’t even want to think about the details.

Vaughn moved his hand from his cheekbone to his chin, rubbing his skin with frustration. He smeared blood from his injured knuckles all over his face. “How the fuck should I know? I’ve exchanged six words with her my entire life, including the trip to Indiana. You’re seeing this guy every single day. Did you have a good practice all those nights?”

I cocked my head, blinking. “How did you know he was here every night?”

His cheeks turned scarlet, lush and youthful. He looked sideways, scowling. “This was a mistake.”

“Remedy that, then. Leave.”

He turned toward the door, putting knots in my chest.

Don’t listen to me. Don’t leave.

He walked, stopped, then spun back on his heel.

“I can’t,” he growled, standing perfectly still, like the statues he made. “God fucking dammit, I can’t leave!”

“You sound like an abused wife.” I fought a smile.

“I feel like one.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “This thing between us…” He motioned with his hand. “It’s like a failed organ transplant. My body is rejecting whatever it is I’m feeling. It’s foreign and strange in every one of my cells. But it’s there. It’s like cancer, and it’s spreading. I want to purge it out. I want to purge you out, Lenora. You’re a distraction I don’t need.”

“Am I no longer a good girl?” I felt hysteria bubbling up my throat, but stayed calm. I didn’t know whether I wanted to keep the title or not. It meant something to him, which filled me with unexplained pride, but it was also a degrading pet name of sorts.

“You will always be Good Girl.”

“Even after this peep show?” I wiggled my brows, trying to lighten the mood.

He groaned, a human sound from a man much more than a human. “You were never Good Girl because you are good. You’re Good Girl because you’re too good for me, and we’d both be wise to remember that.”

“What makes you think so?” I asked, surprised. He didn’t seem to lack confidence. I stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think many people would agree with that assessment. You have more talent and money, more prospects and looks.”

“And issues and anger-management problems and enemies. The things I’m capable of…” He took a step away from me, letting my hand drop between us. “You shouldn’t be with someone who can do what I’m about to.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, and still, somehow, I knew he was not exaggerating. I’d always had this feeling Vaughn was going to kill someone someday. It had gone through my head the night he came to seek me out after I saw what I saw. I’d wondered if he’d slit my throat.

“I can take care of myself.”

“We have a past and a present, Len. No future.”

“I never asked for a future,” I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt.

“Goddamn shame.” He tsked.

I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. Sometimes it felt like he was after everything, and sometimes it felt like he wanted nothing at all.

There was a beat of silence.

“Then don’t do it,” I whispered. “Be good enough for me.”

What am I asking? my mind screamed. I don’t even want a relationship.

But this had nothing to do with me. I had a feeling Vaughn was not going to recover from whatever he was about to do.

He shook his head. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I swore it to myself.”