But he’s in to the broken, damaged little rich girls with daddy complexes. He eats them up with our discarded silver spoons and then spits them out when he’s done with them. On to the next one, and the next one after that. Like a damn shark swimming in the sea, a killing and eating machine.
Figueroa is more like a grooming and fucking machine among the halls of Lancaster Prep, the sick asshole.
“What’s up?” I flick my chin at him, already bored.
“Let’s talk somewhere more private? It’ll just be a minute.”
I follow him until we’re outside, standing in front of the school’s main entrance. Not many people are out here at the beginning of lunch, so this is probably the most private spot he could’ve found.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask him, when the dick still hasn’t said anything. He’s too busy looking around, as if he’s afraid someone’s going to leap out of the bushes.
“Wren Beaumont,” he says as he faces me fully. “Leave her alone.”
His tone is threatening, his gaze hard.
What the actual fuck? Is this guy for real right now? “What are you talking about?”
“Stop giving her grief in class. She doesn’t like it. And since she’s stuck with you for the psychology project, she’s not happy about it,” Figueroa explains. “At all.”
“Did she tell you that?” I’m floored. She actually went to this guy, trusted him and told him how much she hates working with me?
That’s some fucked-up shit.
“Yes, she did. Yesterday. She was crying. Upset that she couldn’t get out of being your partner on that project.” His lips tighten into a thin, firm line. “I tried my best to console her, but she wouldn’t stop crying.”
“I bet you tried comforting her,” I retort. This guy.
We all know he’s been fucking Maggie in secret these last few months. Franklin dumped her ass when he found out. Rumor has it she’s knocked up with Fig’s kid, though I don’t know if that’s true.
I hate how all the girls call him Fig. It pisses me the hell off. He doesn’t deserve their attention or affection. He’s a complete creep.
“Tell Skov you want a new partner,” Figueroa demands.
“No.”
“She’ll listen to you. They all do.” That last sentence is said with total disdain.
He hates that I’m a Lancaster. That he can’t do shit to me because it won’t stick. I’m untouchable—for the most part. Hell, I’m the most powerful person on this campus and most of the staff and admin don’t give a shit what I do. They’re used to the Lancaster white glove treatment.
For whatever reason, this guy cares—he cares way too much about me. And not in a good way.
“Maybe I actually want to work with Wren.” I take a step closer, my voice dropping. “Maybe I want to get closer to her. Learn all of her secrets. What she likes. What she doesn’t like. Maybe the more time she spends with me, she’ll let down her guard and realize I’m not such a bad guy after all.”
Figueroa snorts. “Please. You don’t give a damn about her.”
“And you do?” I raise my brows. “You’re just mad because you know, no matter what, she’ll never fall for your tricks. Not really. She’s such a good girl, Fig. A sweet little virgin who wouldn’t dare to ever think of having sex with a guy who’s old enough that he could be her father. Her teacher. Someone she looks up to and admires.”
Figueroa’s expression tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Unfortunately for you, Wren is saving herself for her future husband, not some perverted asshole who’s her English teacher,” I tack on, just to make him angry.
It works. His jaw shifts and his lips part as if he’s about to say something, but I cut him off.
“Wren might consider something with me though. I’m young—more age-appropriate than you, that’s for damn sure. Really, we’re just two horny teenagers, working together on a project, you know? We’ll definitely need some library time. Private time. Just the two of us. I know she likes to study in there—it’s her favorite place on campus. I’ll make sure we’re tucked away in a dark corner, and I’ll eventually make my move there, among the stacks.”
“She’ll slap you in the face.”
“Or, she might spread her legs wider and let me slip my hand in her panties. I’m willing to take the chance. I’m sure once she gets a taste of it, of me, she’ll be willing—and eager—to experiment. With me.” I grin when I see the anger flare in his eyes. I’m having way too much fun with this, but I probably need to back off. Knowing him, he’ll run to my little birdy and tell her what I said about her. She’ll probably believe him too.