Chapter Sixteen — Maya

BEFORE: Early Evening

Remembering only too well the repercussions of the last party Larissa held, not to mention the red dress fiasco, I stood in front of my closet, unable to decide what to wear to my birthday party. I didn’t really care. Flicking through everything I owned, including the new dress Quinn and I bought only a few days ago, I discarded one item after the other. I'd reached that point every woman does—a closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.

My eyes glazed over and I turned away from the closet, leaving the doors wide open, and flung myself onto my bed.

I let out a long shuddering sigh. It was time I faced the truth: Oliver simply wasn’t into me, and nothing I did would change that.

How could I have gone from sad when I woke up, to happy beyond words at breakfast, to murderous in the afternoon? Easy. My stepbrother.

I’d been in heaven that morning when Oliver surprised me with my birthday gifts and how sweet he was to me. I was right—it was all a damn illusion. And I hadn’t discounted the alien theory either. Right this minute I could easily smash the fucking Maya the Bee cake into his damn face.

After Daddy arrived and broke the special something between Oliver and me, I was still a happy girl because my dad had sought me out and made a fuss of me all through the morning. He’d brought me flowers and a beautiful pair of diamond earrings that he wanted me to wear at the party.

But then Bianca arrived by mid morning. I couldn’t believe my eyes when she showed up out of the blue. I’d gotten the distinct impression from Larissa that they weren’t really an item any longer, but here the bitch was.

Oliver had literally chased my boyfriend out, yet he had his whore back and they had done a fine job taunting me with sex noises and wallbanging until it drove me crazy.

Had what happened that morning in the kitchen meant absolutely nothing to Oliver? Had I just wanted to see the sweet side of him when in fact there was none? How could I be so damn stupid to believe that he actually liked me—no, more than liked me, with the way he’d acted?

I wished my mom was there so that I could rant and rave to her. I’d tried to call Quinn, but she’d turned her phone off. Since she had a part time job over weekends, she wouldn’t be at my house until an hour before the party. It sucked, because more than ever, I needed her to help me get ready.

All the joy had been sucked right out of me.  Every bit of happiness I’d felt that morning had evaporated after I’d had my shower and come to my bedroom to start getting ready for the party.

Still fuming about Bianca’s arrival and what went on in Oliver’s bedroom, I’d taken a step toward the window when I saw the two of them by the pool.

Gutted that Oliver had the bitch suck his dick out by the pool as if he wanted to be seen, I wanted to show him what he missed. I’d decided before Bianca had arrived I was going to give up my virginity to Oliver, that it was time I grew up and stopped being hot and cold toward him. I’d had enough of the cat and mouse games. I was going to tell him how I felt—how much I wanted him and let it go from there.

But no.

He had to spoil it all by getting his whore to come over.

I’d worked myself up in the shower, remembering the way it felt when he’d pressed his lips to mine and I could kick my own ass for not having responded.

And so I’d finger fucked myself out of pure frustration, letting Oliver watch because there was no way he was going to have me after all. And then I flopped onto my bed and cried my heart out. I was the stupidest girl on the planet. I’d let Oliver fool me into thinking he cared about me when in reality it couldn’t be farther from the truth. I had no boyfriend, and I certainly didn’t have Oliver.

As far as Gerard was concerned, I really didn’t care. I'd lost all respect for him the moment he’d actually allowed Oliver to intimidate him. I’d waited for him to challenge Oliver, to put up some sort of fight. Didn’t happen. He didn’t even bother to stand up to my stepbrother for me. Instinctively I knew that was a bad sign—a guy should want to fight for his woman. Right?

I’d finally passed out from exhaustion and fallen into a fitful sleep, filled with nightmares.

It was nearly dark outside when I woke with a start.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” Bianca stuck her head inside the door of my bedroom and brought me out of my funk.

Not moving from the fetal position I was lying in, I eyed her suspiciously. Bitch had hardly spoken ten words to me over the years except when she wanted something. Usually she was so damn wrapped around Oliver she just ignored me.

“Yeah?” I answered, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“When Oliver asked me to come over this morning, he didn’t mention your party. Just told me to hurry. I didn’t bring anything to wear. Mind if I borrow something of yours?” Her false smile didn’t reach her eyes.

I swallowed hard. The gall some people had was unbelievable. She had the whole damn afternoon to get down to a store and buy something. Instead she stayed in Oliver’s room banging him and then blowing him at the pool. And now this?

I'd had enough of this bullshit. It was the last fucking straw.

If Oliver wanted her, he could have her. Dressed in my clothes, too.

“Sure. Help yourself,” I said, shrugging.

Nothing matters any more.

Bianca came forward, her eyes gleaming when she saw the selection hanging there. “Oh, you have some nice pieces here. Maybe a bit big for me, but I'm sure I’ll find something that will make your brother happy.”

My stomach churned and I felt sick. Did she really have to rub it in that she was skinnier than me on top of everything else?

“He’s not my brother,” I said, rolling my eyes. The anger that had been simmering all day since she arrived was reaching boiling point. I was about to lose my shit and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Hmmm . . . this black one will look sexy on me. Can I try it on?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said, getting up from the bed and making my way to the door. I wasn’t going to stand there and watch the bitch parade around in my clothes.

As I headed for the door, I looked back and saw her slip out of her dress. No underwear. Figures.

Slamming into a hard chest, I sucked in a breath as Oliver’s hands gripped my upper arms.

“Where are you going?” The smirk he greeted me with was more than I could handle.

“As far away from here as I can,” I said, bile swirling in my gut. I was going to throw up if he didn’t get out of my way. He made me sick.

Fuck this party. I never wanted it anyway.

And fuck Bianca and Oliver too.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can't do that.”

“Watch me.”

“Ollie, come help me choose,” Bianca's grating voice chimed back in. “Your sister has an amazing wardrobe. I wish I’d known years ago.”

“At least one of us has good taste,” I said dryly. I watched Oliver’s face turn stone cold.

It went right over Bianca’s head. She frowned and stared at me, a perplexed expression on her face. “Come to think of it, I've never seen you wear any of this stuff. You’re always dressed in shorts or jeans. This is wasted on you.”

“Ollie?” I sneered, pushing past him.

I flew down the stairs and didn't look back. It was time I stopped making a complete and utter fool of myself. I had to get my shit together where Oliver was concerned. Damn, I’d turned eighteen today and yet he still had the power to make me feel like that twelve-year-old child in the car on the way home from the airport.

Unwanted.

An irritation.

Not good enough for him.

“Maya, wait,” he called after me. For a split second I wanted to stop dead in my tracks to hear what he wanted. No. Get out. Get away.

All Oliver King wanted was to humiliate me further.

I got it now. He was pretending to be nice to me earlier so that he could put me in my place once Bianca arrived. They’d laugh and make fun of me—at how naive I was.

Bianca’s giggles drifted toward me. Yeah, I didn’t need any more confirmation than that. As I reached the bottom of the stairs I saw Quinn, all dressed up and looking gorgeous.

“Bee?”

“Get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

That’s the great thing about having a bff. No further words were necessary. She grabbed her purse and hooked into my arm, pulling me toward the door.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.” I blinked fast, feeling the burn in my throat.

The car door clicked open.

“Sure. Hop in. I know just the place.”

“You don’t mind missing the party?” I said, swallowing hard.

“Of course not, silly. If you aren’t there, there isn’t much point is there?”

She started the engine and pulled off. With every mile we drove away, the weight on my shoulders lightened.

“Where are you taking me?”

She laughed. “Where every girl should be on her eighteenth birthday.”

I left it at that, not really caring where we went. She had sensed that I didn’t want to talk and for once in her life, she hadn’t thrown a thousand questions my way. I’d sat huddled into the corner, my arms folded and my lips pursed tightly together.

Quinn knew me well enough to know that she wouldn’t get a word out of me in my current state. She’d wait till I was ready and the dam walls burst.

I didn’t really have to say anything either. She’d glanced at me and said one word. “Oliver?”

I’d nodded. That was all it took for her to know my state of mind. We drove without talking, but she cranked the music up so loud that chatting was impossible. It was her way of showing me that she understood and would wait until I was ready to let it all out.

Fifteen minutes later, she parked the car.

“A strip club? Are you fucking crazy? We’ll never get in.”

“Not unless we know the right people—which I just so happen to do. We are getting laid tonight. You, missy, are going to have the time of your life. Fuck Oliver King. And, F.Y.I., there are some delicious hunks in there.”

“Are you serious?” I breathed, gaping at Quinn.

She smiled reassuringly at me. “Never been more so. Oliver has fucked with your mind long enough. It's time to let that shit go. You’re damn legal now, so let’s do this!”

At the entrance, she flashed a card at the security slash bouncer dude. He let us in, no questions asked. “Damn, I'm impressed,” I said, meaning every word.

My eyes widened as I drank it all in. I'd never been to a place like this. It wasn’t a sleazy strip club at all. Loud music pierced my eardrums and there were bodies gyrating on a large dance floor.

“Let's get a drink first,” she said as she headed for the bar. Shit, I was eighteen, not twenty-one. How would we pull this off?

“Two spritzers,” she said, sliding money across the bar.

“Sure,” the barman said, winking at Quinn.

Oh boy. Trouble was brewing and I was just going along for the ride.

Quinn was right. Fuck Oliver King.