“Okay.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way.” I slapped my thighs, desperate to push the rage and disappointment with my father out of my consciousness. “Remember your first kiss with Luna?”

“Vaguely…” The ruby in his cheeks flared again. He wouldn’t look at me.

Oh, Vaughn.

“I want you to erase it from your memory.” I stood up, stepping between his legs and draping my arms around his neck. Slowly, I sank down, my knees straddling his waist. His breath hitched. Mine stopped completely. The air seemed thick and moist again. I settled on his hard-on, feeling the thick bulge pressed against my center.

“And all the ones with me that followed. This is your first kiss.” My lips fluttered over his as I spoke.

“Len.” My nickname dropped from his mouth into mine, hot and desperate.

His eyelids slid shut, despite his best efforts to stay in control.

But not mine. I stared at him as I kissed him, with eyes wide open.

There was nothing more beautiful than watching Vaughn Spencer let go.

There.

I fucking did it.

I kissed a girl, and I liked it.

A whole fucking lot.

It wasn’t the first time I’d kissed Lenora Astalis. But now we had an arrangement, and I was going to milk the shit out of it until I finished this damn internship. I was going to kiss her, fuck her eventually, then get out of Carlisle Castle a normal person, sexually.

Maybe.

Fine, probably not.

After the conversation with Dad where he’d asked if I was gay, I knew I had to take a proactive step toward dipping my cock into more than one hole. People had started to notice, and I didn’t like that.

I spent the next couple weeks working from seven in the morning till nine at night. The sculpture was shaping up nicely. The heads were proportioned now, and I’d carved the faces in detail, down to the very last vein, crinkle, and freckle. Getting each individual hair right was going to take weeks, though. Having Lenora around in the studio would probably cut the time it took me to get shit done in half, but I didn’t want her help.

It looked good, though—the sculpture. Edgar had come to check on the piece a few times, muttering profanity all the way from the first door to the second about the fungal smell and creepy atmosphere. But he said my soul poured out of the sculpture.

“Keep this up, and you got yourself an easy sell. If you could sell it. As it happens, it is going to be Carlisle Prep’s property. Forever.”

Bet he wouldn’t be so smug if he knew that after I worked on my piece, I ran to my second shift: making his daughter, my other piece, moan my name every night.

The good thing about my working hours was I managed to avoid human interaction almost entirely. I woke up every morning at five-thirty, jogged, took a shower, went through my emails with my coffee—answering Dad, Mom, and Troy Brennan, AKA The Fixer, who’d started working on the Harry Fairhurst case—then locked myself in the cellar before classes started at eight a.m. By the time I finished working at nine p.m., people were already in their dorms. The dining hall was closed, and other than random punks who bowed down in my presence and the occasional dry-humping couple, I didn’t see a fucking face.

Not even Arabella’s.

Definitely not Rafferty Pope’s.

And, thank fuck, not Harry’s, either.

I was sure he kept his guard up despite my lack of presence in his life. He’d gone as far as framing my mother to make sure I wouldn’t retaliate, so I knew he wasn’t the dumbass I’d pegged him to be. However, just because I was silent about it didn’t mean I wasn’t working on taking him down.

Then there were the nights with Good Girl.

After a shower and an entire buttered loaf of bread and ham, I’d slip into her room and kiss her mouth.

And neck.

And eyes.

And hair.

I was ready for more—tasting her tits, maybe. I hadn’t touched them yet, but I’d been thinking about them since that day she got out of the pool naked.

Len made me rock hard, and that was both an unwelcome distraction and a relief. Each night, after hours of first base, I’d crawl back to my room, dizzy because all my blood was in my cock, and beat one off before passing out in bed. I came buckets. I hadn’t come often before my arrangement with Good Girl, and never this much. I’m talking enough to fill a milk carton. I had to Google that shit to see that it was normal.

For some reason, Lenora seemed perfectly content to kick me out as soon as we were done. Neither of us wanted anything more, so I wasn’t exactly fucking begging for spooning. She didn’t strike me as clingy or possessive, and I dug that.

I even started feeling a little sorry for hijacking her internship.

Okay, not really.

My streak of not seeing people in a castle full of fucking people ended on my sixth week at Carlisle Prep. It was ten past seven in the morning, and I strode down the fourth-floor hallway where all the interns, assistants, and staff resided.

Basically, all the assholes of legal age who could fraternize with each other without getting their asses thrown in jail.

That’s when I saw Arabella slipping out of a room.

Edgar’s room.

She closed the door with a soft click, tucked her chin down, and shook her head. She looked like shit—tired, emotional, crying. When she looked up and spotted me, a slow, bitchy grin spread on her face.

She wiped her cheeks clean of tears.

“Thought you’d look for me, Spence.” She popped one hip out, parking her hand on her waist. She wore…what the fuck was it that she wore? Some sort of red, lacy nightgown with a matching robe. She’d clearly paid the sculptor a social call. On her back, most likely.

I continued advancing toward Len’s room, ignoring her. She followed me, chasing my steps like the desperate Chihuahua she was. Good thing I didn’t have any loyalties to Lenora. Breaking the news that her fifty-something pops was porking a teenager would make for awkward foreplay conversation.

Not that we had any, thank fuck.

Although, I couldn’t be completely sure I wasn’t going to tell her, either. Who the fuck knew what was going to come out of my mouth when I met her again? Sometimes I wanted to ruin her, sometimes save her, and most times I was indifferent to her existence, save for what her stupid body made me feel.

“Did I tell you all my clothes got stolen and burned last week?” Arabella called after me. “I had to walk around in an actual uniform until my parents shipped me some clothes.”

I knew. I was the one responsible for it. Arabella seemed to have completely forgotten that the last time I saw her, she’d set Lenora’s house on fire and left me to save her. I thought it’d be a nice way to say hello without actually seeing her face.

“Damn shame.” I moved deliberately fast to make it hard for her to keep up. “Then again, most of the time you’re out of your clothes and on your knees, so I bet no one will notice.”

“You’re so funny.” She swatted my shoulder, shadowing me, still. “Where’s your room?” she panted.

She’d been crying just a second ago, but now looked like a ball of fucking sunshine. I hated soulless, preppy, hedge fund girls. I passed Len’s room and headed toward mine. I didn’t want Arabella anywhere near my business.