This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,33

Shouldn’t that be left to...someone else?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Like a man?”

“Well, yes,” she titters. “Someone strong and well-equipped to deal with those kinds of things.”

Lance laughs. It’s a guttural chuckle that sets my teeth on edge. “Dakota and her father were a bit unconventional.”

“Oh, wait,” the other wife interrupts, “you’re the family that teamed up with the Jacobses to find the treasure?”

I’m hating this more and more. If they open their mouths to say one more stupid thing....

Rissa’s fork clatters to her plate, and she pushes her hair away from her face. “Ugh, that stupid search party when Stone missed my graduation?” She pouts at him.

“Stupid search party?”

“Rissa,” Stone warns, voice hard.

“What?”

Her innocent pout only angers me further. “That was for my father, who’s still missing, by the way.”

Rissa rolls her eyes. “It just sucks that Stone had to miss my graduation.” She lowers her voice but not enough so everyone at the table can’t hear what she’s saying. “We’re supposed to share all our milestones, you know?” Her pleading gaze locks with Stone’s. “We are promised to each other.”

It’s my turn to make a choked sound. I quickly hide it when I notice the amused look on Lance’s face. This was the whole reason he brought us here—to remind me where I stand.

But there are some things I can’t let lie. “I’m truly sorry my father’s disappearance and unknown whereabouts messed up your precious milestone. Obviously, graduations are far more important than someone’s life being at stake. Dumb bitch.” It wasn’t eloquent at all, but it got the point across.

Rissa’s mouth drops. “You’re vulgar.”

“And you’re a pretentious little princess with a silver spoon stuck up her ass.”

Wyatt hides a smile, but I can’t even appreciate it because I want to rip this girl to shreds.

“Lance,” the woman next to me cries.

I save them all the trouble and get up from the table, throwing my napkin on my plate. “It wasn’t really nice meeting any of you at all. Goodbye.”

I give them a small salute and head back toward where I believe the front entrance is. Who would know in this freaking maze of a house? As I leave, a snippet of their conversation drifts to me. “Lack of breeding,” one of the men grunts.

I shake my head. If the shit they’ve gotten themselves into is good breeding, who would want it?

I slip out the front door, shutting it behind me. I will fucking walk home if I have to. The nerve of those people. A graduation versus someone possibly dying? A normal person would see the problem with that. And they’re promised to each other? Like, honest to God going-to-get-married-so-their-families-can-make-some-sort-of-business-arrangement vowed to one another? Make the rich richer, right? Keep the money to themselves.

I’m so furious as I stomp down the pavement toward the front gate that I don’t hear the footsteps come up behind me. A firm hand on my wrist makes me jerk away, but the grip is tight. I look up to find Stone’s hard jaw. He pulls me behind him, leading me up a paved walkway to a small building on the east side of the property. He turns the knob and drags me into a small apartment that overlooks the pool.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he pushes me up against it—his forceful hands on my hips, and his long body pressed against mine.

“Is this where you tell me I need to apologize to your bride?”

“No,” Stone grinds out. “This is where I make you forget she even exists.”

12

His hands feel too good. I don’t want to stop him. And part of me wants to show the world anyway. Stone Jacobs ran after me. Stone Jacobs has his hips pressed against mine as if he could wish our clothes away. Stone Jacobs wants me.

If only his intended could see us now.

Stone’s fingers skirt up my thigh, lifting my dress as he goes. His other hand works under the bodice of my dress where he palms my breast. My entire body is waiting flesh, anticipating his easy strokes on mine.

“Don’t push me away this time,” he begs, plucking my nipple. “You’ve always been mine.”

His attention on my needy flesh shoots straight to my core. I close my legs to ease the ache, but he knocks them wider with his own, as if avowing that any relief I get will only come through him.

He removes his hand to cup my face. “Tell me you want me to touch you, Dakota.” He parts my