Ivy

by Willa Nash

One, and only one, person at Aston knew about her past. And he’d vowed never to share the ugly truth.

There was no way her rent would cover the space and meals.

“So you’re the new candidate.” “Excuse me?” “The candidate. For the trials.” “Trials?” What the fuck is this girl on? “You mean like at school? Tests? Do you call them trials at Aston?” Elora shook her head. “No.”

“Word of advice,” Elora said. “She’s used to getting her way. Don’t let her win. It’ll be much more entertaining if you put up a fight.”

And in the center of it all, there he was. He sat on the largest couch with a tumbler of amber liquid in hand as he surveyed his club. A king on his throne. Zain.

This was why she came to Treason. Not for the music. Not for the crowd. Not for the dancing. She came for him. What would Ivy say if she knew Elora was fucking her older brother?

Michael Bamford wasn’t just a Sigma. He was the Sigma.

Cassie Neilson would have hidden from the world. She would have done her best to remain invisible and locked in her shell. But she was Cassia Collins now.

She’d made her uncle swear to keep their relationship a secret. He’d helped her get into Aston, but that was where their interactions had to stop. No good would come from people learning her truths, including her real name.

He was dead. He’s dead. Ivy had made sure of it.

Men shouldn’t look so handsome when they were irritated.

It was a relief to speak those words. To set the truth about herself free. To kill a secret. Now she only had to find the courage to slaughter the other one.

Her PI had emailed her two weeks ago saying that he’d been pulled into an urgent matter and had offered to send Ivy’s request to a colleague. Instead, Ivy had told him that it could wait until he had time. She’d used Sal Testa enough to know he was worth both the cost and a wait.

Everyone wanted something from Ivy. Money. Status. Her father wanted her to be someone else. They wanted the façade. They wanted the rich, beautiful bitch. She’d thought last weekend that maybe Tate had wanted her. The real Ivy Clarence. Who was she kidding? There was no real Ivy. That Ivy was dead, killed in a car crash years ago. With Kristopher.

He crossed the room in a flash, forcing her against the counter. “Because I want you to crave me just a fraction of how much I crave you. Because I want you so worked up you can’t see straight.” Great answer. “You’re very blurry.”

It had been months since she’d danced. Months since she’d wanted to dance. But that little twirl had come from deep in her heart, like a butterfly waiting to be set free from its cocoon.

“The matching is intentional. That way everyone at the club knows who you belong to.”

The last time Ivy had spoken to Cooper, he’d threatened to slit her lying throat the next time he saw her. In his defense, his brother had just died and emotions had been running high. That, and he’d believed Kristopher’s bullshit.

She rubbed her temples. The headache she’d lied to Tate about was becoming a reality. And its name was Cooper Kennedy.

Then Elora did what was best for him. And maybe what was best for herself too. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Bye, Zain.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” Edwin shook his head. “Trusting people is how you mend your broken heart.”

He was in a motorcycle accident.”

“I love you.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll always love you.”

A different warning sprang to mind, a warning she’d heard years ago on a drunken night at a fraternity party when a guy had told her to be careful. That Josh was not what he seemed. Cassia hadn’t listened back then. And it had cost her everything. It had cost her a life.

Cassia had nothing to lose. Not even her heart. She’d lost it at Hughes.

Elora’s heart dropped. She knew that face. She’d seen him walking around Aston’s campus. He was the dean of students. Henry Neilson.

But Jessa was a lesser demon in Cassia’s past. The tale of her mother was an easy confession. And Cassia had no intention of sharing the rest.

“I’d rather skip what you hate and hear you say that you love me again.” “I love you.” Her voice cracked. Damn it. She was going to cry. Hard. There was no stopping it. No leaving to hide herself in a lonely corner. He was going to see what no one else ever had. Elora, stripped bare. Zain’s forehead dropped to hers. “I love you.”

And like the ink, those marks were hers. He was hers.

“No one in this world knows me like you do. Because I haven’t let them. Not even Mira. And though you might pretend to shut me out, Elora Maldonado, no one in this world knows you like I do.” She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her head was reeling, trying to soak it all in. “You and me, we fit,” he said. “We fit so fucking perfectly it shouldn’t be real. Yeah, Mira and I were good. But even when we were at our best, nothing can compare to you and me.” He pressed his hand over her heart. “Two hearts.” “One beat,” she finished.

Kristopher had been with Allison. Kristopher and Allison. Tate and Allison. Ivy wasn’t sure which hurt worse. Defeat settled on her shoulders. Her dad had won. And now Allison.

“You can push me. You can push as hard as you want. But I’m not going anywhere. We’re done if I say we’re done. Not a minute sooner.”

This was bliss. Reality didn’t exist. There were no Allisons or Michaels or Kristophers or Coopers. Here, in Tate’s arms, she was his. And he is mine. She was ruined.

“I said that we’re done when I say we’re done. Did I say we were done?” “No?” He took her hand again. “No.” Ivy’s heart swelled. There was just too much inside and it came out as a cry. Laughter. Tears. Relief. Maybe even love. Maybe right then, she fell in love with Tate Ledger. Real love. Or maybe she’d fallen months ago. On the dance floor at Treason.

“That’s your question? Christ. I love you, Red, but if you don’t get your stuff together so we can get the fuck out of this hotel, I’m going to lose my shit. Pack. Now.” Wait. Did he just say he loved her?

Then she opened her mouth because he’d told her he loved her and she hadn’t said it back. She wanted to say it back. Except, before she could speak, he pressed his fingers to her lips. “Tell me tomorrow.” Right there in that moment, Cassia knew there’d be no other man in her life but Edwin Clarence. Because he knew what she needed when she hadn’t even been sure of it herself.

“You’re getting a tattoo?” Elora asked Zain as he settled into a chair. “We are. I was hoping you’d get one too.” Zain pointed to the neon sign on the wall. Two hearts. One beat. An hour later, Zain had the first part of that script inked over his heart. And Elora had the second half inked over hers.

And then I walked into Treason, and the second I saw you, the moment you threw that attitude of yours in my face, everything changed. You weren’t Zain’s sister. You were mine.”

“Just calling it like it is.” His lips coasted against hers, his tongue dragging along the seam of her smile. “Because, baby, this is going to be so fucking good.” No, this was going to be great. This was going to be the love of her life.

“Agreed.” Ivy thrust her champagne flute into the center of their circle. “Let’s do another toast.” “Again?” Zain teased. “What are we toasting this time?” “To secrets.” Ivy smirked. “And the friends we trust to keep them.”