Chapter 3Not Your Typical Romance

Through the haze of the night, only one thing was crystal clear: he’d played me.

There was no key. Not there.

That son of a bitch.

At least the expensive wine didn’t go to waste. Last night, Julian, his face flushed a deep crimson, had put that bottle to very creative use. I had no idea where he’d learned some of those moves.

When I woke up, I staggered out of bed, my legs shaky as I gathered my scattered clothes. Julian was propped up on one elbow, casually watching my pathetic state with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know, Andy, seeing you like this makes me want to start all over again.”

“Shut up!”

You goddamn hypocrite. I was convinced he’d planned this whole thing just to mess with me. My legs were so weak I could barely stand, my hands trembling as I tried to button my shirt.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around me from behind. He steadied me, his fingers slowly doing up the buttons I was fumbling with.

“So, Andy,” he murmured into my ear, “how does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?”

“…”

Just three little pills, and I was almost broken.

“That stuff you got is pretty effective. Maybe you could give me some more?”

“Julian, are you a fucking sadist?”

“I just thought this was the kind of game you liked to play.” He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his tone dripping with a playful cruelty that made my skin crawl.

I shoved him away, my face a cold mask. “I was drunk last night. If you dare tell a soul about this, I’ll kill you.”