Wes’ POV
It would have been better to call her. That was what I thought laid out in Eva’s bed, sprawled between her milky thighs and the sheets, facing Dee’s side of the room.
The empty side of her room.
That I should have called, been man enough to tell her that the deal was off.
Instead, I slinked away, having caught her shocked face under the shade of a tree that grew near the entrance to their hall, and turned my back on her because I was ashamed. Ashamed that I was, once again, prey to Eva’s wishes. Her brand of treachery.
You’d think after years of being a dick to other people, bullying the hell out of those I’d perceived weaker than me, being a menace for every headmaster and teacher who had the misfortune of teaching me, that I wouldn’t be easy prey. Wouldn’t go belly up at every scheme tossed out at me by someone who treated me nicely more than once. That I’d be able to stand up to a miserable bitch like Eva.