14

And now there were just the two of them. Cassie had never been in the same room with Tristan before; his presence was just too intimidating. She was afraid that he might try something funny with her, but that would be overexagerrating her level of attractiveness. Even if Tristan was prone to aggressive behavior, it wouldn't be for girls who looked like her.

"You're really agreeing with this?" Tristan asked her. "Because now I'm getting the idea of who you were before all of this." He gestured to her new look; the skinnier legs, the slightly revealing clothes, and the makeup. "You're the girl who always sat on the back, obsessively reading from your phone."

"I'm not backing away now, if that's what you're afraid of."

"You just don't seem like the type who could handle hurt."

"I'm doing fine," she said, even though she wasn't quite sure inside.

"Are you? Because you look like you're ready to pee inside your pants."

Cassie gasped, because there was a little bit of truth in Tristan's harsh statement.

"You're not exactly... what I had in mind... when Tyra mentioned the fake-dating scheme."

"Why? Because I'm not a true highborn like you guys?" there was a little bit of harshness on his question, although there was something else dripping from his words. A vulnerability.

Cassie didn't dare nodding, even though that was the exact reason why. All of her life, she had been sheltered and only surround herself with people who didn't need to struggle with life. The closest she had ever been to 'normal' people, as her father put it, was her maids and employees. The concept of normal people actually scared her. The only way she could get any idea on how other people who weren't born rich behaved was from TV and it wasn't showing a very good examples. Lots of unwanted pregnancies, lots of inhumane jobs, lots of unnecessary rudeness.

And Tristan here, even though right now he's laden with the expensive clothes and great future, came from that kind of background. It both fascinated and scared her, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to dip her foot into that well.

"You're one of those people, huh? You judge and you think you're better than most people because you're... how do I say it. Pure?" Tristan smirked. " You don't drink and you don't date, and now that your peace is disturbed, you want to take down the very person who has tainted you."

"That's quite a psychobabble from someone who claimed he didn't know me five minutes ago," Cassie said quietly.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You're basically a different person. Will I say prettier? Yes, you are traditionally pretty now. But there's that gleam in your eyes. Cruelty. Now you're the same as Desmond and every single person in that silly group of yours."

"You can just say no and be done with it."

"None of my words ever implied that I disagreed to your 'project'."

"Then please don't do that. Don't try to analyze me. Because I'm doing you the same courtesy."

Tristan grinned. This time, his whole face lit up. And Cassie finally had a glimpse of what the girls noticed when they decided they wanted Tristan. He had such an open smiling face, as if there was lightning radiating from him.

"So we're good? Can we do this?"

"We're going to need to set some ground rules," Cassie met his hand and shook it firmly. Tristan's palm felt rough and warm, and she held on to it a second longer than what was necessary.

"I'm fine as long as you don't turn out to be one of those clingy girls who cry when you get no text after one romantic night," Tristan also didn't let her hand go. "Because we're sure as hell going to have quite a few of those."

"Why?"

"Well, Carrie-"

"Cassie. If we're going to do this, you'll have to call me correctly."

The smirk appeared again. "Cassie. It's all fun and games, but if you really intend to set my brother off, we're going to need some real chemistry. At least, in front of him."

His jet black eyes found her, and she couldn't look away. For a second there, she regretted this. She much rather had Lucas. Fun, non-threatening Lucas to be the one who'd help her with this. Not this ticking bomb. This Tristan who was both very different and yet very similar to the first person who ever broke her heart.

"And I'm willing to try," Tristan said, before he quickly kissed her cheek.

Cassie forgot what happened next, but the next time she fully regained her wits, Tristan had already been gone, and there was a little crumpled note inside her fist.

It was his number.

——

Tristan's POV

Tristan

My mother wasn't a very nice person.

There I say it. She's not nice. She's not motherly, she isn't even kind. To anyone, not just to me. She has lived a very hard life, and she has gone through great lengths to be where she was, so it's only natural for her to not develop any compassion.

Why would she? Compassion would only kill her. And ruthlessness was what got her here.

At the Arrington mansion, settled for life with the man who made a mistake for sleeping with her.

I stepped foot on the Arrington mansion when I was five. At that time, nobody knew that I was the illegitimate son of David Arrington, the leader of the family. I didn't know the full details since I was too young, but my mother managed to elevate her status so that we could get a proper room inside the mansion, and that I managed to get schooled in the same school with the legitimate son, Desmond.

Desmond Arrington, even when he was young, was also not a kind person.

Which was weird for me. Because he had everything. He had every toy any kid could ever want. He could eat anything, he could point at some things and his helper would swipe a magical card and he would get it. He wasn't a particularly pleasant kid to be around, but the parents of the kids on the playground practically forced them to be kind to him.

At that time, I didn't understand how powerful the Arrington family was.

I only knew that I no longer had to eat mac and cheese for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I liked the variety.

I think my mother kept me safe. Kept us comfortable. She was, after all, very beautiful and very cunning. There was no way a smart man such as David Arrington didn't realize the whole spectrum of my mother's cunning, but he loved her anyway and he pampered her with luxurious stuff.

And when she died, he was so heartbroken that he separated from his own wife and started loving me more.

So of course I understand. I really understand why Desmond Arrington, with his overflowing wealth and unlimited supply of gadgets, would hate me.

Because I had taken from him the ONLY thing that he couldn't buy.