Lords of Pain (The Royals of Forsyth University #1)(11)

I’m not that girl anymore.

Tristian jerks his chin at me. “You never said your little sister was in town, Killer.”

Killian’s still staring at me, but now his face is set into a hard scowl, lip peeled back. He’s looking at me like he just scraped me off the bottom of his shoe. “She’s not my sister.”

“Not so little anymore, either,” Tristan says, eyes sweeping over me before once again settling on my mouth. I get this humiliating flash of memory—the way his penis felt as it slid between my lips, the warmth of his fingertip as he swept my tears away. I feel the heat bubbling on my cheeks and it makes his lips tip up into a smirk. “Look at you, all grown up.”

He’s right. I’ve matured. Physically, emotionally. A year of boarding school, a few months on the street, and a year and a half working and living and surviving has a way of doing that to a person. It’s already obvious that these three are exactly the same as they were that night. There’s no remorse here.

“What are you doing here, Story?” Killian asks, voice deep and rough. “Last I heard, you’d skipped out on boarding school and fucked off to parts unknown. Now you show up on my doorstep? If you’re looking to even the score, you’re a little late. If we were untouchable before, then we’re practically Teflon now. Should have stuck around if you wanted to take a shot.”

I push my shoulders back, chin up. “I’m here to interview for the position. I’m applying to be your Lady.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, their eyes unblinking as they absorb my words.

“You’re applying to be our Lady,” Killian says, voice hard and flat. He leans forward, shoulders shifting, and rests his inked elbows on his knees. “Are you even fucking aware of what the job entails?”

Unflinchingly, I answer, “To serve the needs of the Lords that live in the household.” It’s a bit of a copout. They’re the only Lords living here.

“You know, maybe I’m misremembering,” Rath says, head cocked to the side, “but the last time we talked, you weren’t very compliant about serving others.”

“Not willingly, anyway,” Tristian adds, flashing me a sharp, lopsided grin. “Although that didn’t bother me very much.”

“It’s like you said,” I insist, voice like stone. “I’ve changed.”

“Does my father know you’re here?” Killian asks, knitting his fingers tightly together.

“Since June. He’s the one who helped me get into Forsyth.” The hatred in Killian’s eyes turns a shade darker. “But I’d rather do this on my own. I figured that a job that took care of my room and board would be the right step.”

“This isn’t just cleaning bathrooms and making us meals, you understand that, right?” Tristian drops the mocking smile for something more condescending. “We already have a housekeeper, sweetheart.”

I nod once. “Yes, I know.”

“Tell us, Sweet Cherry, what does being our Lady entail?” he prompts, the wicked curve of smile tugging at his lips.

“It means you’re in charge.”

“Of?”

“Everything.”I swallow, well aware of what I’m about to do. What they don’t know is why I’m so willing to do it.

Tristian watches me. He’s still got that charming ease. That same disarming, sexy demeanor. Facing him is worse than the others, because even for me—even after what he did to me, after how he treated me—it’s so easy to fall into it. To let it lull you. To believe that he’s not as bad as the rest.

Right up until he strikes.

“There’s a contract,” he says, eyes darkening. “We’re perfectly solid here, Story. But for our own benefit, I think I want to hear you say what you’re willing to do. Be specific.”

My stomach sinks, palms growing clammy as I fight to remain composed. My voice nearly sounds mechanical. “I’ll…pleasure you. I’ll let you do things to me.”

Tristian raises an eyebrow, clearly not having expected this level of bluntness. “And? The contract gives us unilateral rights to control every move you make for the next year.”

“What you wear,” Rath adds, staring at my chest. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on them. His cock rubbing against my backside. His harsh whispers into my ear.

Tristan nods. “When and what you eat.”

“When you sleep.”

“Who you fuck,” Killian says, suddenly joining in.

“How you fuck.”

I steel myself. “I can handle that.”

The guys glance at one another. Rath stands and walks toward me. I’m still standing near the door. I never got very far into the room. “You didn’t handle it last time, Story. We waited for you and you never came. Killer sat outside your room, but it was locked. Then you ran and erased every trace that you existed.”

“That was different. I wasn’t ready then. I am now.”

Rath’s tongue darts out and he raises his eyebrow. “Take off your dress, then. I want to see how much you’ve changed.”

It’s a test. A test to see if I’ll comply. But I also know that they don’t like easy. Whoever slapped Tristian probably has the best shot at this job. It’s a fine line, knowing what they want, and I have to tread carefully here. I also have to get control of my fears before I blow it.