"My love is vengeance

That's never free.."

Behind Blue Eyes  by Limp Bizkit.

I wrench away from Dylan, the hot concupiscence deforming to arctic coldness, and my whole attention now rivets on Ethan. What am I missing here?

"Let's say that Claire has a new toy these days." Dylan answers, his eyes– like me–pointed on Ethan as well, the motley lights assorted on on his unreadable face.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's say that he wants into her pants, but she's toying with him for a while for the sake of her father's work." He laughs, but it's obvious that he's not the least bit appeased as he looks at them.

My eyes hone in on Ethan, trying to decipher what Dylan just said, and as if he felt me staring at him, he rises his gaze, meeting mine forthwith. He doesn't look surprised at all, lifting his hand to flutter his fingers at me.

"Go sit with Alexa." Dylan orders quietly, before he starts to walk toward his table.

I don't adhere to his command, not because he got under my skin by ordering me around, but because I have another plan in mind. "Not before I say hi."

Dylan stops, swerving to look at me with a sore gaze. "Just fucking obey me for once." He fuliminates through gnashed, snow-white teeth.

However, I don't even respond, making my way to the table, and Ethan's gaze chases me until I get there. "I had a feeling I'd see you here." Ethan smiles, his gaze running up and down my body with appreciation.

Pig.

"You guys are friends or something?" Logan asks, hauling his eyes between me and Ethan with curiosity.

"Exes, actually." Ethan counters.

"What?" Claire splutters, her face screwed up with a revolted expression. "You must be kidding me!"

"He's not." I avouch, enjoying her appalled countenance.

She snorts, flashing me a debasing side-glance. "Looks like all men are interested in dating trash."

"Watch. Your. Fucking. Mouth, Claire." Dylan declaims, his voice harsh and clear-cut, his hard gaze embedding her in her place.

Silence conquers, despite the clangorous pulsation of the music, and everyone watches the mute exchange between them, waiting for Claire to retort, but she doesn't, looking at him with shock and hurt at the same time.

"Actually," Ethan speaks, breaking the stiff, uncommunicative atmosphere. "I don't think trash is the right word to describe someone whose family is richer than mine and yours." He effortlessly drops the bomb, his voice sounding rather bored, before he leans back to watch the confusion as it takes over their faces with a slaked mien.

I stiffen, suddenly feeling shoehorned among their prying gazes. Smoldering, livid blood courses under my skin, and I center my eyes on Ethan, who–for some ambiguous reason–is reveling in their astonishment. And I want nothing more than to slap that smile off his face, just to teach him how to keep the things that don't concern him to himself.

"Oh really?" Claire asks, her eyebrows raised with disbelief.

"Haven't you guys heard of Jeffrey Woods?" Ethan inquires, his eyebrow arching with amusement. He looks at me, his face displaying simulated shock. "I can't believe you didn't tell them that you're a fucking billionaire."

"You gotta be kidding me." Trent exclaims right away.

No one else utters a word, and I can feel their repudiating gazes on my red face, but I keep gaping at Ethan, who's very aware of how ballistic I am. How dare he reveal something like that to them? Something that I refuse to acknowledge, let alone disclose it to anyone. How dare he come here and bring the past along with him, not only shoving it right at my face, but unbosoming it to them like that!

I clear my throat, plastering a fake smile on my face. "How about we dance? For the sake of good ol' days." I say, my voice bittersweet.

He looks at me, his face canted to the side, silently informing me that he's aware of how bad I'll roast him. "Depends. Are you still a horrible dancer?"

"Worse that before." I don't miss a beat, challenging him to refuse. If he does, I'll have to cut off his balls and lay them on the table in front of them.

He smirks, oddly satisfied by my quip, before he stands. "I'll dance with you then."

I round the table to the dance floor, knowing that he's following me. I don't stop when we get there, going further away from their table, and he shadows me, my wrath not the least bit agitating him. When I finally stop, obscured by the gyrating bodies the cram the dance floor, he comes to me with a daring expression, brassiness loading his stance, now that he has managed to chafe me. He draws me closer by the waist, and I position a hand on his shoulder, before I move it to his neck, and dig my nails into the back of it. "When will you learn to keep that filthy mouth of yours shut?" I rave, searing his complacent gaze with my enraged one.

He winces, before he hides his distress with a smirk. "You used to like my filthy mouth. What happened? Now you've got someone with a filthier mouth, eh?"

I dig my nails deeper. "Don't stray from the main subject, asshole."

"You know I don't mind a little pain, don't you?" His smirk widens, and he hauls me closer, just as I start to spring my knee upwards.

"Did you have to spill that shit to them? You know I left Tacoma with its pain and money behind to start anew. Whoever the fuck gave you the right to reveal such a thing?"

He huffs, his face becoming earnest. "Seriously, Candice? Are you angry because I stood up for you?"

I laugh. "You think I care about her insults? I don't need an advocate. I can fight my own battles very well."

He hums. "Looks like Dylan is the only one who's allowed to defend you."

"Jealous?"

He shakes his head. "No, Candice. We never worked, and we will never do. I just want to be friends, and maybe remedy what I did to you in the past."

The anger renews full blast. "No, Ethan. I'm not a forgiving person, and you're not above anyone else who has wronged me, just because I used to be in love with you. In fact, you're on the top of the list."

He emits a long sigh. "Fine, Candice. Don't forgive me for now. But what about her? When will you forgive her?"

Isn't he aware of how infuriated I am by every word he voices? Isn't he aware of the untold memories that keep mercilessly despoiling my head whenever I see him?

"Never." I hiss.

He lowers, his eyes distraught. "She's slowly dying, Candice. Cancer is not particularly compassionate."

I don't know what takes over me. A villainous spirit, or maybe it's just the rage that's been culturing inside of me for years, seeing the way my mom was slowly ravaged by people who have no mercy, people who solely speak money and cruelty. "Dying, huh? Is cancer that painful?" I allow a mock frown to materialize on my face. "I'm sure it's not as painful as my mother's death. Hell, I'm sure it's not as painful as the days my mother spent after my father passed away. Do you know what I wish and pray for every day? A slow, agonizing death for that woman. It's funny. Very few people wish such things for their grandmas, but since she never treated me like one, I hope she gets the most afflictive death in the world. I hope the disease spreads all over her body inside out, and torture her so slowly, that she might as well kill herself." My chest heaves, and I look at Ethan's stunned face.

He looks.. scared. Like I scare him.

"Don't worry, though." I reassure him, my voice more tranquil. "I don't wish the same for you, because even though I hate you, it's all my fault. I'm the one who'd betray my mom and come to you, neglecting the fact that she worked her ass off to provide a good life for me. All those nights I'd slip out and come to you. All these times I'd let you fool me into putting you first, until you picked their side, just like your selfish father. Until you chose to deprive me and my mother of our money. Now I want nothing to do with that woman's money."

With that, I leave him standing there on the dance floor, making my way to the restroom, needing a place to escape. A shelter where I can deflect any more people and chaos, until I come together.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn't love me that much, and finding Claire in the restroom is a voucher for that thesis. She notices me straightaway, drying her freshly washed hands with a tissue while fixing me with a baleful look, one that doesn't waver. "Don't think the stuff Ethan said changes what I feel toward you, Candice. If there's something you need to know, it's that money doesn't change a true slut."

"True. And you're a true proof of that statement." I say, surprised that I still have energy to fight.

Her eyes blaze with even more anger. "I don't know how the fuck you showed up in my life and stole everything I used to have, but I'll get everything back, right after I fucking ruin you."

I actually laugh at that. No, I giggle, my sardonic visage meant to nettle her even more. "Oh yeah?" I question, crossing my arms. "Let's list everything you think you had. Alexa, for instance, treated you like a friend, but you used her as a way to gain a step closer to Dylan, and now she's beginning to have her own life, one she will get no matter what you do to stop her. Have you included Ethan in your list of properties? Well, if so, you should remove him instantly. He's not someone to own. He's a son of a bitch who'll play you until you lose your dignity, not that you have any." I take a step forward, watching her face as it reddens so dark, that I think she's about to cry.

"As for Dylan," I say, smiling. "That one you never owned, and you're delusional if you think you'll ever do. Do you know why?" I ask her, my sinister smile broadening. "Because he's mine now."

She doesn't say anything for long, staring at me with such hatred I've never received in my whole life. She looks like she's about to kill me, but from the look on her face, I know she's holding back, trying to look unaffected, but damn, it's all written on her face. She opens her mouth, her eyes squinting. "I'll fucking ruin you, Candice. Wait for it, because your demise is coming soon. You fucked with the wrong person, now it's time to bear the consequences."

She doesn't even wait for me to fight back, striding so fast to the door, almost running, before she pulls the door open, only to be presented by Dylan, who gives her a dumbfounded expression. She doesn't say anything, stopping for a moment, before she flees past him.

He gawks at her back for a few seconds, watching her as she runs off, before he turns around to face me, his confused expression dissolving to a stern one. "I'm not going to ask about what just happened, because that's the least thing I care about right now." He avers, strolling toward me.

Damn. Will I ever take a break from drama?

"Oh yeah? And what is it that you care so much about right now, boss?"

His face turns angry. No, angry doesn't even depict the volume of fury I see on his face. His eyes look penetrative and ireful, but there's another bearing to his face. One that I can barely recognize among the sundry emotions he displays.

It's hurt. He's hurt.

"Tone down that fucking sass." He grunts. "You have five minutes to tell me everything about you, before I spank that salty ass of yours."