I’m sure at this point I’m coming off as the moodiest asshole ever, and perhaps I deserve the title. I know I’m being moody. I can’t help it. Ensley is driving me fucking crazy. Not like crazy, as in, I can’t stand her sort of way. Crazy, as in, I can’t read her at all, but God do I fucking want to. I’m usually good at picking up on people’s vibes. Never with Ensley, though. The only exception to this is the first time I talked to her—when I crushed her—and that secret conversation I mentioned where she helped me in more ways than she realizes. I wasn’t lying. It was the best conversation of my life. I just wish she remembered it.

Instead, she links me to that awful day in third grade. I knew I hurt her when I asked her if she was a boy or a girl. Obviously, she was a girl. A shy, sweet, quiet girl who didn’t deserve a rich, spoiled, weak-minded third-grader using her shyness against her and making her question whether she looked like a boy or not. She didn’t look like a boy at all, but that wasn’t the point of me asking her. The point was that I needed to make certain friends. Not by choice. I already told you that almost everything I do isn’t by choice. But that’s not an excuse.

Everything I did and have done is on me. I allowed myself to be controlled by my parents. But not anymore. Well, at least I hope so.

If I can’t get Ensley to warm up to me, my plan to break free from my family, their rules, and expectations of me are going to go to shit. I just hope Ensley will forgive me when this is all over.

At first, when I’d made the deal with him, I was a bit excited over the idea of trying to get Ensley to open up to me, until I really thought about it. I’d been flirting with her forever, teasing her and trying to get her to smile at me like most girls do when I tease them. But every time I so much as look at her, she stares at my shoes. The damn girl has some sort of shoe fetish. It’s a shame, too, because I wasn’t lying. Her eyes are fucking gorgeous. I could stare at them all day. And nope, that’s not one of my lines. If only I could make Ensley realize this. And not just because of the plan.

Honestly, up until yesterday, I was worried the plan was never going to work, since the only time she’s ever really talked to me is when she was drunk. Then I asked her to go to the party with me and she said yes, which I’m still confused over. As long as she’s talking to me, though, I’m going to roll with it. Even if she does change the subject while I’m dragging my finger across her lips, coming this close to kissing her, something I’ve wanted to do for a while. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t do it. She seemed uninterested, and the plan isn’t for me to actually fall for her. Just be friends.

It’s a really complicated plan.

I’m seriously getting worried. Like, I’m standing on a cliff, about to jump off and fall into the unknown.

“So, you have a thing for Ens now?” Elodie asks as I stroll across the grass toward her.

“Maybe. Does that bother you?” I ask, coming to a stop beside her.

“Of course it does. Ens is too good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mumble, thinking about all the things I’ve done to her and what I’m doing to her now … this plan …

I swallow hard, hating myself a bit.

Elodie draws down her sunglasses and assesses me. “What’d you want to talk to her about?”

“Nothing.” I shrug her off.

She stares at me for an unsettling amount of time before putting her glasses back on and crossing her arms. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t tell me, then.”

“Okay.”

It grows quiet between us as she stews in her irritation. She hates it when I don’t tell her things, and I don’t tell her a lot of things, so she hates me a lot. Sometimes I keep quiet to protect her and sometimes I don’t want her knowing what I’m really thinking. Like when I’m thinking about Ensley and how soft her lips are. And how she obviously didn’t want me touching them. It’s fucking driving me crazy. I can get any girl I want except the one I want; have wanted for a couple years now.

Talk about Karma.

I take a deep breath and try to focus on something else, other than rejection, which I’m quickly finding out hurts like a motherfucker.

My gaze moves to our mom and dad, just a ways in front of us. They’re chatting with Holden’s parents. Our mothers look so alike with their salon-styled hair and nails, strings of pearls, designer dresses, purses, and heels. Our dads are decked out in fancy suits and ties with expensive watches. Everything about them screams money, which is exactly what they want—for everyone to know who they are and that they’re important. And they’ve made me the same way, a son to show off, dressed in his designer clothes with my perfect grades and en route to take over my father’s law firm.

It doesn’t sound that bad, except my father’s main clients are rich bastards who are guilty of the crimes they’re accused of, including some very powerful and dangerous mafia members. Yet, he gets them off and doesn’t feel bad about it. Why would he feel bad, though? He makes a lot of money, right? At least, that’s how he sees it.

He’s probably about as bad as the men he represents. I know this from the stuff I’ve witnessed him do, from the stuff I’ve heard, from the stuff he’s threatened me with, from the stuff he says I’ll eventually have to do.

I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to try to break away from him. My parents tried so hard to mold me to act and look a certain way and, up until recently, I obeyed like a good little brainwashed son.

Elodie, on the other hand, is stronger than me. She frequently rebels, wearing whatever the hell she wants. She also decided to major in education. Which, let me tell you, my parents are not thrilled about.

Ever since third grade, when Elodie became friends with Ensley, she stopped wearing the dresses our mom wanted her to wear, stopped acting like a proper girl who’s all manners and fake smiles, stopped acting like Mom’s puppet. And part of me is glad for her. The other part of me is jealous.

“Oh, I know. We’re so proud of him,” my mom tells Holden’s mom with a fake smile on her face. “He got offered a full scholarship to several different schools. We don’t need the money, of course, but it’s good to have the offers.”

For show, I mentally add.

“He doesn’t need the offers because he’s going to college here so he can start working at my firm on the side,” my father cuts in, his voice ice cold. His voice is always cold, as if he’s frozen hell over and sleeps there every night. He might even be the devil himself. I wouldn’t put it past him.

As if sensing me, his gaze strays to me. “Isn’t that right, Carter?”

I nod, loathing how tense I get just from him looking at me. “Yes, sir.”

He grins in a way that makes me want to punch him. Then he turns back to the conversation, laughing about something.

“And then, of course, there’s Elodie,” Elodie attempts to mimic our mom’s falsetto tone, pressing her hand to her chest. “She’s such a disappointment. Did you see the dress she was wearing? She bought it at a thrift store. Can you imagine? Other people have touched her clothes. The fabric probably has cooties.”

I arch a brow. “You think Mom believes cooties are real?”

She shrugs, a smile twisting at her lips. “Maybe. I did hear her say once how she thought she was going to get herpes from a homeless person who was outside a restaurant she was eating at.”

“And I bet she called the manager and complained.”

“Of course. What else are you supposed to do? I mean, a homeless person is around. God knows what would have happened if they made eye contact with her and reminded her that the world isn’t all diamonds and Botox. That people actually suffer, and that everything isn’t pretty.”

“I wish she would realize that,” I agree. “She’s completely delusional about the realities of life, which makes no sense considering where she came from.”

Elodie slants her head to the side, her brows knitting. “Wait. Mom wasn’t born rich …? I thought Grandma and Grandpa were loaded.”

“They’re loaded because of Dad.” I pause, giving her a sidelong glance. “You’ve never heard the story?”

She shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with glee as she rubs her hands together. “But you’re so going to tell me. That way, the next time she tells me what a disappointment I am, I can throw the story in her face.”

“Wouldn’t that be sinking to her level?”

“Are you seriously lecturing me about being cruel to people?”

She has a point. Still …

“I’ll tell you what.” I turn to face her and block the glaring sun from my eyes. “I’ll tell you the story if you promise not to bring it up unless she’s made you cry or done something equally as awful. No throwing it in her face just to throw it in her face.” She starts to open her mouth, but I hold up a finger. “In turn, you have to tell me some stuff about Ensley.” I know a lot of stuff about her already—more than I like to admit—because I watch her all the time.

Like a fucking creeper.

Yep, that’s me. Carter the Creeper, obsessed with a girl who will barely talk to him.

I’m so pathetic.

Wariness flickers across her expression. “You want me to give you deets on my BFFFB.”

“BFFFB? What the hell is that?”

“Best friend forever, forever and beyond.”

“You say that like that’s common knowledge.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “It’s not. It’s fucking weird.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably the first thing you should know about Ensley.” She crosses her arms. “She’s fucking weird. So am I. So are most people who hang around us. So, if you want to be part of Ens’s life, be prepared for a lot of fucking weirdness. All the time. Twenty-four-seven. And your pretty boy image isn’t going to work. You’re going to have to be fucking weird yourself.”

“You say that like you don’t think I can.” If she only knew how wrong she was.

“I don’t,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know me as well as you think.”

“You’re my twin. I know you like I know my own face.”

“We’re not identical.”

She mockingly gasps. “We’re not? Oh, my God! This whole time I thought I looked just like you.” She stomps her foot and fakes a pout. “Dammit, there goes my dream of joining a boy band.”

“Stop saying that shit. I don’t look like I belong in a boy band. I don’t know why you always say that.” I hate when she pulls out the boy band remark. Tell me I look like the lead singer of a rock band. Or the drummer. Or even the bass player for an alternative band. But most guys don’t want to be told they look like they belong in a boy band.

“Because it drives you crazy,” she teases with a way too pleased grin. “And it’s sort of true.”

My jaw spasms. “No, it’s not.”

Her grin expands.

My jaw ticks again.

“You know we’re, like, the worst twins ever,” I say, slipping my hands out of my pockets. “All we do is fight.”

“A lot of twins fight. And you and I were doomed the moment third grade happened and you went from my sweet, caring brother to an asshole who told a quiet, shy girl that she looked like a dude. That was the day you stopped being my brother and became the enemy.”

I swallow hard at the truth of her words. “It wasn’t my fault.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure it wasn’t.”

I want to tell her everything, about what happened with Mom, about the talk she had with me the day before I started hanging out with that new group of friends. The friends who talked me into going over to Ensley. Friends who, sadly, are still my friends. However, I don’t think she’d understand. She’d tell me I should’ve rebelled.

Maybe I should have.

My life might have been so much better if I did.

But I also may not have survived if I did.

My scars burns at the thought.

“Okay, maybe it was.” I grit my teeth and tap my fingers against the side of my leg, frustration bubbling inside me. Mostly frustration directed at myself.

Her gaze moves from my tapping fingers to my ticking jaw, then her brows lift. “You’re nervous.”

“No, just restless to get out of here.”

“No, it’s more than that.” She squints as she assesses me. “Something’s bugging you.”

“A lot of things are bugging me,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

She continues to study me, and I expect her to throw some snarky remark at me. Instead she says, “So, are you going to tell me about this poor life our mother allegedly lived or what?”

“Are you going to tell me about Ens?” I counter.

“I could tell you a couple of things, I guess. Nothing too personal, though. That’s breaking the BFFFB code.” A contemplative look crosses her face. “It’s funny you’ve suddenly started calling her Ens. You know only her friends call her that, right?”

“I’m sure the guys she dates call her that, too.”

“That might be true, except she’s never been on a date before.” I don’t know what sort of face I pull, but she rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised. You’ve known Ens since we were eight, and I’m pretty sure you’ve noticed she doesn’t talk to a lot of people, which makes getting asked out on dates complicated. Don’t get me wrong; I know a lot of guys want to date her, but every time they so much as talk to her, she freaks out and shuts down.” She pokes me in the chest. “And you’re part of the reason she’s that way. That day in third grade, you took some of her self-esteem away.”

I rub my chest where she poked me. “I know I did, and I’m sorry. And I know Ens is kind of quiet, but I don’t think she’s as socially awkward as everyone thinks. Or that she thinks, for that matter. At least, she hasn’t been that way for the last couple of days.”

“You think, just because you talked to her for, like, two minutes, you’ve got some insight on how she acts?” She laughs coldly. “It takes time to get to know a person.”

“I know that. And I’m not saying I know everything about her. But we didn’t talk for just a couple of minutes. I talked to her for a quite a while on the phone. And today … Well, you know how long I’ve been gone, so I’m sure you can figure it out.” Plus, I watch her a lot, but I’m not about to divulge that aloud.

She meticulously eyes me over. “You did talk to her for a while. Makes me wonder why.”

I put on a neutral expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why the sudden interest in her?” She steps closer to me. “You’ve known her forever, and just a few days ago, you told her she wasn’t pretty.”

“No, I told you you weren’t pretty,” I clarify. “And only because you called me a pretty boy.”

A slow, wicked smile curls at her lips. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” I question, feeling a bit on edge. Can she possibly know about the plan? How the fuck did she find out about it?

“You like her.” She points a finger at me, that evil grin on her face growing even more sinister. “I think you might have liked her for a while. Damn! I don’t know how I didn’t see this before.”

I relax a tiny bit. Emphasis on the tiny part, because she got part of it right.

“I think you’re looking way too into this.”

“No, I think I’m looking just the right amount. I just don’t know how I didn’t see it before.” The happiness in her eyes makes my uneasiness shoot up a notch. “But yeah, now that I think about it … all those times you’d come home drunk and try to annoy us was just your lame-ass attempt at trying to flirt with her.”

“Hey, I never lame-ass flirt. I’m fucking awesome. Just ask my fan club.”

“You might not be a lame flirt with those shallow, borderline stalkers who follow you around, but Ens isn’t one of those girls, and that throws you off your game.” She fists pumps the air. “Ha! I’m so freakin’ smart I amaze myself.”

My lip twitches in annoyance and worry rises inside me. The last thing I want is for Elodie to find out something she could use against me. And this is something she’d definitely use against me.

“Well, at least you amaze yourself, because no one else is impressed,” I say flatly as my phone rings from inside my pocket. I have a good guess who it is. “I have to go. I got some shit to take care of. Tell Mom I’ll meet her at the restaurant in a bit.”

“Aw, don’t pout. I’m not going to tell anyone you have a secret crush,” she calls out through her laughter. “And what about our deal? You owe me a story.”

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” I throw over my shoulder as I fish out my phone.

I don’t answer yet, not wanting to take the call in public—too many wandering ears around.

I make my way across the parking lot and toward my car. It’s a 1969 GTO that has been restored. I’ve owned the car ever since I turned sixteen, a present to myself that I bought with money I saved up over the years. My parents wanted to buy me a Porsche, but I told them I wanted to purchase my own car. My dad was impressed … until I drove up in an old junker that looked straight out of the junkyard. He lectured me for hours, telling me I had to return it, that it would ruin my image. I refused.

It was the first time I told him no, and it felt good. I’m just lucky he let it slide that time. And he may have thought the car was a piece of crap, but I could see the potential. A couple of years later, after some bodywork, a new paint job, and a total interior restoration, it looks way better than a Porsche. At least, in my opinion. And it runs great usually, but I need to take it in and get everything double-checked before I take Ens out tomorrow..

My stomach rolls with nerves as I think about tomorrow. Nerves of fear and excitement.

Shit, this isn’t good. I should be calm, or I’m going to mess this up.

“You’re not answering your phone.”

Startled, I drop my keys and phone as a girl with long, brown hair steps out from behind my car.

“Dammit, Ruby, a little warning before you do that would be great,” I say as I bend over to scoop up my keys and phone.

She rolls her eyes, almost reminding me of a mini Elodie. “I’m not supposed to be warning you. I’m supposed to be sneaking up on you.”

I check my phone over, making sure the fall didn’t break it. “Why are you here?”

“He sent me to run an errand for him.” She crosses her arms and stares me down. “And since I was already here, he told me I should check up on you.”

“What errand did he send you on that required you to come to the high school?” I ask, unlocking the car door.

“I delivered a rose.”

“To who?”

“To her.”

I tense, turning my head toward her. “To Ensley?”

She nods, her eyes doing this evil, sparkling thing. It’s something she does a lot, and it creeps me out. Yeah, I know I sound like a pussy—being scared of a little girl—but I don’t really give a shit. The girl is about as freaky as those twins in The Shining.

I open the car door but don’t climb in. “Why did he send her a rose?”

She raises a shoulder to shrug. “That’s not really any of your damn business.”

“Don’t say damn. It’s a bad word,” I feel the need to say.

She gives an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m twelve years old. I can swear if I want to.”

“I didn’t swear when I was twelve.”

“Liar.”

Okay, she has me there. Still …

“How did you even get here?” I rest my elbow on top of the door. “Your house is over thirty miles away.”

“My bodyguard brought me here. And he’s under strict orders to come looking for me if I’m not back in twenty.” She slips on her oversized sunglasses then pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “So, let’s get right down to the chase.”

I swear to God, she sounds like my dad.

“Dude, you’re twelve,” I annunciate. “Not fifty.”

“I’m an old soul. Get over it.” She pops a bubble, the only sign that she isn’t an adult trapped in a child’s body. “He wants an update on the situation.”

“I gave him an update last night.”

“Yeah, but a lot can happen overnight.”

“Well, not much has,” I tell her, knowing he’s not going to be happy about it. “I asked her out; she agreed. We’re going out tomorrow.”

“And where are you taking her?”

“I’m sure you already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, but I need to make sure.” She taps her foot against the ground. “What did you talk to her about earlier?”

Anxiousness stirs inside me. I hate how she seems to know everything.

“How did you know I talked to her?”

“Because I was eavesdropping,” she replies with a simple shrug. “She didn’t really seem that into you.”

“If you were eavesdropping, then why did you ask what I talked to her about?” As the rest of her words catch up to me, I add, “Wait? What do you mean she didn’t really seem that into me?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Do I really need to explain this to you?”

“No. Because there’s nothing to explain. She’s into me.”

“God, boys are so naive sometimes.”

“And you’re twelve,” I annunciate again. “You should be out playing and going to movies and hanging out at the pool. You know, kid stuff. Not standing here, arguing with me because your father treats you like his secretary.”

“I’m not his secretary. I’m his business associate. I actually own half of his businesses.”

There are no words. Seriously.

“So, you’re twelve and you own a bunch of clubs?” I question. “And that’s what you want?”

“Of course it’s what I want. It’s a great opportunity,” she quips. “Too bad for your father that you don’t think the same way.”

I rake my fingers through my hair as I blow out a deafening breath. “There’s a huge difference between owning a bunch of clubs and being part of what my father does. I don’t want anything to do with that.”

“Why? Because you’re such a good guy?” Her sassy attitude is grating on my nerves.

“You don’t know anything about me, little girl. And even though you’re obviously stuck in some sort of Freaky Friday vortex, you don’t know jack shit about life yet.”

“Neither do you.” She offers me a sassy smirk. “But I have a feeling you’re about to.” Then she turns on her heels and waves goodbye to me from over her shoulder. “Have fun trying to win over a girl who doesn’t like you. And have fun dealing with the consequences from my father when you don’t pull off your side of the deal.”

“I’ll pull it off!” I shout. “I’m Carter fucking Everlend.” Two seconds later, I let out a, “Fuuuck,” because I sound like a douchebag. And I’m drawing a crowd. Great. Just what I need right now.

“You okay, man?” Holden asks as he approaches his BMW parked next to my car.

“Yeah, fan-freakin’-tastic.” I plaster on a shiny, fake smile. “I was just putting someone in their place.”

“Really?” He twirls his car keys around his finger. “Because it looked like you were arguing with a twelve-year-old girl, and she won.”

I resist a gulp. “You saw that?”

He nods. “Yep.”

As we stare each other down, my skin begins to crawl.

“How much did you hear?” I finally ask, worried he recognized Ruby.

“Not too much.” He shrugs. “But I’m curious why you were talking to the daughter of Gregor Hartingford, aka the wealthiest fucking guy in Fareland who owns the most exclusive clubs in the country. So exclusive that not even me or you can get into one.”

If he knew how wrong he was, he’d freak out. I’ve been to the clubs many times. Have been going for a couple of months now, ever since I made the deal with Gregor. If Holden ever found out about that, though, he’d insist I take him. And I can’t. I can’t mix my old life with my new one.

“Is that who she was?” I feign dumb. “Fuck. I thought she was just some spoiled brat trying to key my car.”

His brows rise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I caught her by my car and stopped her before she did it.”

“Dude, how did you not know it was her? Everyone who’s anyone knows that.”

“I guess I’m no one, then.” And sometimes, I wish I was.

Life might be easier that way.

Instead, I’m standing here, lying to my friend. And while most of my friends suck, Holden is actually pretty decent, enough that I tell him stuff about my life, like how I secretly like my sister’s quiet, cute BFFFB.

I roll my eyes at my use of the acronym. Great, Elodie, thanks for that.

Then I mentally sigh as I think about how Holden isn’t the only person I’ve been lying to. My sister, too. And then, of course, Ensley.

“Hey, I have to take off,” I tell Holden before I’m forced to lie even more. “I’ve got this lunch thing with my family, and then I’m taking my car in to get looked at before my date tomorrow.”

“Aw, right, the big date.” He grins. “Dude, I still can’t believe she agreed to go out with you. I always thought you bugged the shit out of her.”

“Me, too,” I agree, ignoring my phone buzzing inside my pocket, though I tense, knowing more than likely that it’s Gregor calling me. “Honestly, I was surprised as shit when she said yes … twice.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s really weird.” He rubs his jawline thoughtfully. “Maybe she’s screwing with you.”

“That’s not really her MO.” It’s mine.

God, I suck.

It would’ve been so much easier if I had to date one of the girls from my fan club who I didn’t really care about. And yes, I’m completely aware that having a fan club makes me look like a straight up douche. But don’t hate me. I didn’t create it.

“Yeah, I guess not.” Doubt still lingers in his expression.

For a faltering moment, I worry maybe he’s right. Perhaps Ensley is messing with me. I highly doubt it. And considering what I’m doing to her …

Maybe I deserve to get played. It’d be the perfect punishment for every sin I’ve ever committed.

I move to get in my car as the guilt crushes my chest.

“And hey, remember that you’re not allowed to shave yet,” he calls out through a laugh.

I slide into the driver’s seat, leaving the door open as I drag my hand across my scruffy jawline. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Because if you do, you lose the bet.” He muses over something. “Although, I have a feeling you’re going to end up losing, anyway.”

“Not gonna happen.” My tone rings with confidence.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks and shrugs. “We’ll see in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, we’ll see your dumbass lose.”

Before he can say anything else, I close the door.

He grins and flips me the middle finger as I start up the engine and peel out of the parking lot. I barely make it out into the road when my phone rings again. Call me weird, but I’m not one for talking on the phone while I drive, so I pull over next to the curb before answering.

“What’s up?” I aim to sound casual, but an edge always seems to creep into my tone every time I talk to Gregor.

“Isn’t that what I should be asking you?” Gregor asks. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring my calls.”

“I haven’t been ignoring them.” I crack the window to let some air in. “There’s just been a lot going on today.”

“Ruby says you weren’t busy when she talked to you,” he replies. “In fact, she said you weren’t doing anything.”

I shake my head. Damn, that girl is starting to piss me off. “That’s completely inaccurate.”

“So, you’re calling my daughter a liar?”

“No.” Yes, but I’m not about to tell one of the richest, most powerful men in the country that. Not if I want a chance at what’s waiting for me if I pull this deal off. “I think she might have just been a little confused about the situation.”

“Or she was just trying to cause trouble.” He laughs like his daughter getting me into trouble is adorable. I don’t find it so funny. “She’s quite a handful when she wants to be. It’s good, though. The girl’s got spunk. She’s going to make a great business partner one day.”

I frown, suddenly realizing that, if this deal works out, I’ll be dealing with Ruby a lot more than I want to. “She told me she was already.”

“She likes practicing for when she becomes part-owner,” he explains. “Some kids like dolls. Some kids like trucks. Some kids like playing make-believe. Some like playing CEO. In reality, it’s all pretty much the same.”

No, it’s not. At all. And he sounds just like my father and mother, which makes me feel a bit sorry for Ruby.

“Have you ever tried to give her a doll or a truck?” I wonder as I rest my hand on top of the steering wheel.

“I did give her some dolls once. She hated them. Cut off all their hair and painted their faces up like clowns. It was kind of creepy.”

I don’t know why, but that doesn’t surprise me.

“But, anyway.” He clears his throat. “I just wanted to call and get an update. I know you said she was going to a party with you next week, but then I heard a little rumor that you’re taking her to one of my clubs tomorrow night.”

I fiddle with the keychain. “I thought it might be a good idea to get her introduced to that world so she’s not so shocked.”

“That’s a good idea,” he says. “Maybe I’ll stop by, too.”

“Tomorrow night? Isn’t that a little soon?”

“I’ll just say a quick hello. Or maybe just see her. Nothing more.”

I want to tell him that’s a bad idea, that if she recognizes him, the plan will go to shit. But I’m not really in a place to tell him what to do. Not if I want to achieve my goal.

“Okay, sounds good.” Then I bite down on my tongue, worried I might be crossing a line, but the need to ask eventually wins. “You sent her a rose today?”

“It was her graduation. Of course I did.” His voice shakes with anger. “I’m sick and tired of her mother keeping her from me. I’m the one who looks bad here. I’m the one who’s missed out on everything. I’m the one who’s had to stand by and watch my daughter live a shitty life when she could’ve been given anything she wanted. But her mother’s too stubborn. Always has been.”

I’m not so convinced that’s the only reason Gregor hasn’t seen his daughter for almost her entire life, especially since he’s the sort of man who can pretty much get whatever he wants. Why not just see Ensley? Or send her money? What’s been stopping him?

I haven’t asked any of those questions yet. I probably should’ve before I made the deal with him, but I was too worried about the deal in general.

Yep, I bet I can guess what you’re thinking. He made a deal with Ensley’s dad? Her father she’s never known and who she thinks abandoned her? I don’t know why you’re surprised. I already told you I was an asshole. The part that makes me really suck, though, is that I like Ensley. More than a lot. She’s sweet, cute, kind and has the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard. That is, when she laughs. She doesn’t do it too often when I’m around.

She doesn’t deserve what I’m doing. She deserves so much better. But when the deal was proposed to me, I wanted it so damn badly. It was my way out. My golden ticket to escaping my father’s future for me. A corrupt future that will lead to me continuing to live a fake, controlled life. So I selfishly agreed to the deal. But with every moment I spend talking to Ens, I become more conflicted.

“Just remember not to tell her what’s going on,” Gregor reminds me. “If she finds out what we’re up to before I’m ready to tell her, the deal’s off. Because, if I have the element of surprise taken away, she’ll run. I need her to trust me first.”

“I know.” Of course I know. He’s told me the same thing a hundred times.

“Good.” He gives a short pause. “You’re a good guy, Carter. You really are. I hope this all works out.”

More guilt piles on my chest as his words sink in. He’s wrong. He really is. If I were a good guy, I wouldn’t be doing this to Ensley. If I were a good guy, I’d open my mouth right now and tell him the deal’s off.

But nope, when I open my mouth, all I say is, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” proving once again that I’m an asshole. And if this all backfires in my face, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.