A chill coursed through her body, and Ariana hugged herself.
Jasper’s game had been at Georgetown Prep. Reed Brennan must have been there. Maybe she was scouting for her team or something? Who knew? Who cared? She had been there. And she had spoken to Jasper. And Jasper had told her all about the new girl with the ice-blue eyes, and Reed had started to talk. Talk all about the girl she had once known with ice-blue eyes. The two of them had talked and talked and figured it all out, and now Jasper knew. It was just as it had been with Thomas Pearson. The moment she found herself in love—real, true love—Reed came along to obliterate it.
Reed Brennan had ruined her. Again.
But how had he found out about Lexa? About Kaitlynn’s death? That part made zero sense.
“Champagne, miss?”
Ariana jolted out of her paranoid reverie. She took a glass from the offered tray, downed it in one gulp, then grabbed two more. The waiter was obviously startled, but said nothing. Quickly Ariana moved toward the glass wall closest to her, tripping over someone’s strappy heel as she went. She muttered an apology and kept moving. The entire room was spinning, which made it difficult to focus, but she made it to the wall. She pressed her back against the cold glass and downed the
second flute of champagne.
Taking a deep breath, she placed the empty glass on a table and held the third. She watched the happy faces of her peers as they hobnobbed with the elite of Stone and Grave, and slowly, slowly, she started to come back to herself. She could not let Reed Brennan do this to her. Not again. Reed had nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with Briana Leigh Covington.
She would not allow Reed to ruin this life too.
Ariana looked down at the full glass of champagne. She scoffed, disgusted with herself, and set it aside. Now was not the time to start drinking. Now was not the time to lose control. She was going to need all of her faculties if she was going to survive what was going to happen next. What had to happen.
Clenching her jaw, Ariana pushed herself away from the wall. She sidled through the room slowly now, methodically, checking each group of revelers one by one by one.
And then, finally, she found him. She felt a pang of sadness, a pang of nostalgia, a pang of real loss, as she watched him laugh with a pair of older men. And then she shoved it all aside and made her move. She walked up behind him and whispered in his ear.
“Come with me,” she said huskily, determinedly.
Jasper, ever so languidly, smiled. He looked at the older men, who both gazed upon her with leering, sparkling eyes. “Duty calls, gents.”
They both nodded in understanding, which made Ariana’s blood curdle. But she ignored it. She had to. She had far more important things to deal with. She turned and lifted her chin and, smiling blithely at the illustrious guests as she passed them by—smiling as if she had no idea who Jasper was or that he was eagerly following her—she slowly led him away.
Ariana shut the heavy wooden door of what must have once been the potting shed. Long shelves lined two of the walls, all of which were empty. There was a low metal counter along the third wall, a large sink dead center, its tall faucet turned to the side. Above this hung a series of metal pegs, and from those pegs dangled dozens of gardening tools. Spades and shovels in various sizes, rakes and hoes and forks, and several pairs of clippers and shears. The tile floor had been swept clean of dirt and potting soil, and the air inside was frigidly cold, as if the heat hadn’t been turned on in years.
“Hey,” Jasper said, turning to her suddenly. So suddenly she almost stepped on his toes. Their knees bumped, and Ariana felt a surge of attraction followed by a hatred so white hot she could hardly keep herself from screeching. “You sure you don’t want Lexa to join us?”
And just like that, Ariana snapped. She closed her hand around his throat and backed him into the shelves behind him, so hard she slammed the back of his head against an edge.
“Ow! Sonofabitch!” he shouted. He pushed her away with both hands. “What the hell was that?”
“What do you know?” Ariana demanded, her chest heaving.
Jasper laughed. He touched his hand to the back of his head, then checked his fingers for blood. “God, Ana. If you like it rough, you could have just told me.”
“Shut up!” Ariana turned and grabbed the first pair of shears she saw. The blades were at least a foot long and rusty, their tips still crusted with dirt. Jasper’s eyes suddenly widened, and he backed into the shelves again. “What do you know!?” she demanded. She stepped right up to him and held the sharp tip of the blade right beneath his chin. Jasper tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he eyed the shears with terror.
Yet still, he laughed. “Okay, calm down. Calm down,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “There was this guy at the game . . . he went to your old school.”
“A guy?” Ariana demanded, confused.
“Yeah. Glenn or something. No . . . Gray . . . ?”
“Gage?” Ariana demanded, pressing the blades into his skin. “Was it Gage?”
“No, no! It was definitely Glenn something or other,” Jasper said, panicked. “He told me about the affair you had with your professor last year,” he said in a rush. “Your female professor.”
Ariana blinked. Sweat had popped out along her lip and under her arms, even in the freezing-cold room. What the hell was Jasper talking about? Last year she’d been at the Brenda T. She’d had no professors, let alone female ones, let alone female ones with whom she’d had an affair.
“Ana? Can you let me go now?” Jasper asked.
Ana.