“Get out of my face, Layla,” I say through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto whatever self-control I have left.
“I’m not finished with you, slut,” she replies with a sickening smile.
I roll my eyes, although I can feel my patience waning. Fast.
“Okay. What? Why don’t you just get all those insults that you’ve clearly been saving up off your chest. I promise I’ll try to keep a straight face.”
Layla’s eyes narrow in response, and her voice is eerily calm when she opens her mouth next, although her words are far more lethal.
“You know, as much as I’d like to do that, I don’t think I need to. You know what you are—I don’t need to tell you.”
“Oh, yeah and what am I?” I ask, although the last thing I want is for her to answer.
“You’re a shiny new toy that’s just happened to catch Raph’s attention—for now. This … fascination of his? It’s temporary.”
I try to block out her words but I feel them cut into flesh all the same.
“He’ll play with you for a while, use you to keep himself entertained. Raph loves the chase and life can get pretty boring for us Dynasty heirs with all these rules and obligations—not that you’d know, because you’re not really one of us.
“Then he’ll toss you aside once he’s bored of you. Just like all the others. I’m sure you’re not foolish enough to think that there haven’t been other girls before you—many, many girls before you. I mean, I don’t blame those girls, or you, for that matter. It’s probably good while it lasts, in fact …”
She flashes me a wicked smile which makes my stomach churn.
“From my own personal experience, I know just how good it is. So. Very. Good.”
If I felt sick before, then I’m pretty sure that now I’m on the verge of throwing up.
The look she gives me is almost sympathetic.
“That is, until it ends. Because it always ends. There’s no other possibility.
“Raph knows, just like I know, just like every damn person on this entire planet knows, that Raph is mine and I’m his. Always has been, always will be.
“It doesn’t matter who he warms his bed with and equally, it doesn’t matter who’s in mine. Because at the end of it all, he’ll be on that throne and I’ll be right there next to him. That’s how this fairy tale ends.”
She studies my expression, and as much as I try to, I can’t keep the devastation from showing through.
“But you knew that already, didn’t you, Jazmine? If I didn’t think you were such a worthless slut, I’d feel sorry for you. Life after Raph gets bored with you? Well, I think you know what that’s going to feel like, in fact, I think it keeps you up at night.
“I get it, though. Raph—well, he’s the personification of the element that he lords over. Like the sun itself. When his attention is on you, it’s like having the sun beaming down on you, but when it’s gone … well, he can cast quite a shadow."
Layla pauses then for effect.
“But who knows, I could be wrong. It’s unlikely. But I could be. Raph could decide that you’re entertaining enough to keep you around in the long term. But even if he does, you’ll always just be a girl to warm his bed at night. During the day, in all the ways that really matter, it’ll be me by his side and you’ll have to watch from the gutter where you belong, as he rules Eden with me beside him.
“You’ll be nothing more than Raph’s dirty little secret. Just like you were your daddy’s. Because Raph may not care who knows about you right now, but it will be an entirely different matter when he ascends to the throne. Ironic, isn’t it? You going from being one king’s dirty little secret to another’s?”
I tell myself her words are poison. Lies. But they hit home all the same, because they echo the doubts, the insecurities that have been raging in my own mind since that first kiss. Still, because I’m foolish, I still try to deny it.
“Shut up, Layla. You don’t know what you’re talking about and you sure as hell don’t know Raph—"
She cuts me off with a mocking laugh.
“What? I don’t know Raph the way you do?” She flashes me a cruel smile.
“Oh, honey, you’re right about that. I don’t know him the way you do—I know him better,” she says.
“I’ve known Raph his entire life. You’ve known him for two minutes.
“Raph’s all messed up because of his mommy issues. He goes through these phases where he hates his privileged life, hates his Dynasty, hates his throne, hates his father and all the pressures he puts on him. But at the end of it all, Raph was raised for that throne. Privilege, duty, obligation—it’s all that Raph knows. It’s what makes him who he is.
“If you really knew him, knew just how sick and twisted he is, then you’d stay the hell away from him. Raph is his father’s son. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool—are you a fool, Jaz?”
It’s a rhetorical question but I answer it in my own mind anyway. Yes. I’ve been a fool. I am a fool.
I’ve been working hard to keep my face from showing just how deep Layla’s words are cutting, but I can’t hide it now and to my horror, I can feel the moisture pooling in my eyes. From the gleeful look on Layla’s face, she sees it, too.
I’m saved from breaking down right in front of this girl who hates the very air I breathe, and who’s just torn up any last shred of hope, when the front door swings open.
Raph, Baron and Lance walk through. Their eyes dart between me and Layla and I’m sure they sense the tension. Raph’s eyes go to me instantly, but I don’t stick around to hear what he has to say.
Without another word, I turn and run up those stairs, away from Raph, from Layla, from the rest of the Dynasty heirs and their sick and twisted world that I want no part of.
It takes Raph all of two minutes after I step through the threshold, to follow me into my room.
I sense him come through the door. But I keep my back to him as I attempt to compose myself. I busy my hands with finishing my packing before the car that Magnus has sent for me comes to collect me later that evening.
Raph says nothing at first, but I sense him coming towards me. His strong arms wrap around my waist, and for a second, I let myself lean back against his chest, let myself feel his warmth, let myself feel his strength.
He drops a kiss to my shoulder, and when he breaths me in, I think I feel my chest crack, because I’ve always loved how much he seems to love the very scent of me, like he needs it more than he needs air to breathe. I’m reminded of that night on the beach after the Gramercie game, when he held me just like this, and told me afterwards that he didn’t want me. If I’d been smart, I’d have walked away right then and there.