“She was kissing girls in public, Rosie. I didn’t make her do that. And I’m sure William would agree, a story you control is a thousand times safer than a story controlled by someone else. By letting Danni face some temporary consequences now, I taught her a lesson she won’t forget anytime soon. She won’t slip up again.”

“Or, rather,” I say, “you knew that if that video went public, your mother would have a good reason to push for Danni’s expulsion. And that, with Danni on the line, you and William would be able to make me promise almost anything you wanted from me.”

Alfie shrugs a single shoulder. “If we’re getting engaged eventually anyway, why should we delay it, when it’s the perfect tool to rebuild your reputation?”

I can’t help it. I laugh at this. Not because it’s particularly funny. But because it’s so monstrous. “You know,” I say, “if you had put it like that—if you had appealed to my logic, rather than targeting Danni to appeal to my emotions? I may have agreed with you. It’s entirely possible I might have gotten engaged to you, Alfie. But you’re talking about me like I’m a bonfire you had under control. And for some unimaginable reason, you decided to throw gas on me.”

And the most ironic part of this? Before Alfie’s decision to toy with me, I was logic personified. I barely had access to my emotions.

If I’m a wildfire now, it’s partly because of him. And it’s the only favor he’s done for me I’m even slightly tempted to thank him for.

“Danni was never going to get expelled,” he says, as though I don’t understand. As though that’s the problem with all of this. “It was just a small story to prevent future ones. Like a prescribed burn,” he says, looking pleased with himself for adding to my metaphor.

I feel a shaking, hot fury suddenly spark in my stomach and spread through my veins, like molten spiderwebs igniting beneath my skin. I think I might actually hate him. “You weren’t manipulating the media, Alfie. You were manipulating me.”

“Only because I had to. To protect you. I care about you more than anybody, Rosie.”

At this, I slowly rise to my feet, and look down at him. “I believe you think you do,” I tell him. “Or, at least, I believe you’ve convinced yourself you do. But your eyes are empty.” I clench my jaw as he stares back at me. “And once you see it, you can’t unsee it,” I finish, before I leave him without waiting for a response.