With Sloane, everything was predictable. Her family status solidified her attitude–spoiled. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and with whom she wanted. I hated her family for being the business connections within the twisted little world we lived in. She never had to worry her head about much since she’d probably get married off to the highest bidder. It sometimes made me feel bad for her and I understood why she lashed out. Only sometimes.

I dragged her farther from the crowded room while she struggled, finally pulling her arm out of my grip.

“Can you not? You said I’m not yours! You can’t come in here and do what you want with my arms!” Thank God I spoke drunk Sloane.

I sighed and folded my arms over my chest. “You’ve had enough tonight. You need to get home.”

Her face softened, looking almost sensual. “Are you going to punish me for being a bad girl?”

With some heavy coaxing and promises of things I knew she’d forget in the morning, I convinced her to leave. She only lived a few houses away and getting her into bed guaranteed she would fall asleep immediately.

She did.

I plopped in the chair at her desk and took a breather. I was not supposed to be a drunk escort. If anything, I planned on snatching Fallon again to force her to come with me for some answers.

Why did my grandfather forbid me to canoodle with her? No idea. All I knew was that she was Maria’s kid, and my grandfather loved Maria like a daughter. Since his only child ended her life, I couldn’t blame him for forcing the title onto someone else. We all have demons of our own.

But then, why the beatings? He fucking pulled a fucking gun on me–he had a temper, sure. It happened multiple times before, but telling me to stay away from Fallon like this only pushed me closer to her.

I planned to have that girl eating out of my hands whether she–or The Dictator–liked it or not.

Sloane looked to be asleep, and I took that as my cue to leave. My focus was on Fallon and getting back to the party. I hoped to find her in the chaos that was a sorority afterparty. She is mine.

Sloane had a habit of trying to beat other people down to make herself feel better, a symptom of the life she lived. I didn’t like it and that’s why I never wanted anything to do with her despite her desperately hanging on. She mocked me and told me I had commitment issues–which was true, but maybe she was just a girl who needed to stop flinging herself on me. She was college fun just like the others were, and I wasn’t here for anything but work.

So was she.