Page 19 of Heartless Sinner

I cleared my throat before saying, “Yes, I want to be his Fawn.”

He slammed his palm against the wall beside my head, and I flinched.

“Why?” he snarled.

“So I can fuck his brains out.”

“Too fucking bad.” He skimmed his nose against mine, the touch too gentle for a man who’d almost poisoned me. “You’re mine to make miserable.” His lips brushed mine before his teeth caught my lower lip.

My fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“And trust me”—his teeth caught it again—“I fully intend to.”

“I can say no,” I choked out.

He caught my jaw, forcing me to meet those beautiful, soulless eyes. “That’s no longer a rule, Princess.” He drove his hips into mine.

I gasped as heat flooded my veins. He was even harder now.

“Get ready for me to ruin your life.” Brooks pressed his thumb against his bite on my lip.

It stung, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

He smirked, as if he’d already claimed my soul. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I’d poured that rat poison down your throat.”

Thanks to Brooks’s psychotic janitor’s closet episode, I had to sprint back to my dorm and change.

That left me twenty minutes late to Media and Politics.

Taking political science classes was pointless now. Before my father’s arrest, I’d planned on a career in politics.

Now?

Who the hell knew.

But I wasn’t ready to let go of that dream yet.

The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, the room went quiet.

Professor Laurent stood at the front, repeatedly tapping his Apple Watch before pointing at the stack of late slips on his desk.

Yeah, yeah. I know.

He handed those things out like trust-fund kids handed out cocaine in Manhattan clubs.

I was convinced he only did it to impress Arisono because the two were definitely secretly hooking up. Which made me seriously question her taste in men. The man sported a curly mustache and scarves year-round.

I looked away from him and spotted Adelina waving me over. Laurent resumed his lecture as I hurried up the stairs.

I dropped into the empty seat beside her and shoved my bag under my chair.

She wrinkled her nose.

I couldn’t blame her. I probably smelled like a damn exterminator.

Adelina sat perfectly straight, exactly how her mother had raised her. The girl would never get tech neck. A gold Chanel clip held back her red hair.

“I’ve texted you, like, fifteen times,” she said. “You oversleep?”