Chapter 5

Amelia's POV

"Here are the rules of how this is going to work." I grit out, dragging the earpiece covering his left ear and throwing it on his legs as I drive us to school the next morning. Miguel is beside me with his legs on the dashboard, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, but most importantly and most annoyingly, his lips tilted in a smirk. Thankfully, the lip ring is on his right side so I can't see it, meaning unfortunately my eyes are stuck to his brow piercing, not shielded from my sight by the sunglasses, his curly dark brown hair falling everywhere on his forehead. 

It had been one bad turn after another when Emilio had called me into the study after dinner yesterday to inform me that Miguel was going to be finishing senior year with me. As if it wasn't enough that I'd see him at home and at school, since he wasn't allowed to have any money or drive, he was officially going to hitch a ride with me everyday to and fro, a means to ensure that he did go to school and come back from school. He didn't need to add the hidden message when he said I was to watch out for my stepbrother. I was unofficially Miguel's babysitter. 

I'd marched into his room the next morning–okay, after the last incident, I'd knocked and waited for him to tell me to enter–only to find him still undressed, his damp hair dripping to the carpet, the towel riding so low on his waist that I was so sure he'd only need to move for it to drop. More disturbingly, his room wasn't beige, like the rest of the rooms in the house. It was maroon and the half opened cups of paint and used paintbrushes by the door meant he'd probably been up all night repainting. A spoilt brat he might be, but apparently painting his room felt to him like one of the artworks he normally did. I'd almost asked him about it until he'd said he was going to dress for school, the warning giving me plenty of time to zip out of the room before I heard the towel hit the ground, his low laugh following me all the way down the stairs. 

He lowers the sunglasses so I can see his blue blue eyes. "What rules, Mia?"

"Stop calling me that."

I've been to enough Spanish classes to know what Mia literally means. 

Mine. 

And even if it's not what I think and he's just shortening my name, the name sounds too familiar. Too intimate. 

"Is that one of your rules?"

"No. I mean, yes, yes. That's one of them." 

He snorts."Then I'm afraid we're off to a rough start." 

I tighten my grip on the wheel. 

I will not get mad. I will not get mad. It's too early to ...

"Do you have a smoke?"

I'm sure I whip my head fast enough to break my neck. "Are you kidding me?"

He removes his sunglasses and places it on the dashboard, raising his eyebrows as if saying 'do I look like I'm joking?'. 

"This is what the rules are going to be." I find an empty space in the school's parking lot and turn off the ignition, locking us inside when he tries to open the door. He turns slowly to face me and my eyes struggle to not move to his chest that is exposed because two buttons of his zebra stripped top are opened or to his lip ring that is now in my line of sight. I remembered that I'd seen at least two tattoos earlier this morning, one on his right collar bone and another on the left side of his sculpted abs ...

"Like what you see, Mia?" His tone is almost mocking, when the look on his face is anything but. His eyes are intense, looking like hot coal as he studies my entire form.

The car suddenly feels too hot. 

I pin him with my most disinterested look "Rule number one. You must not leave my sight, except when you're in class or going to the restroom." 

"You sure you want to be there if I'm fucking someone or letting them give me head?" He narrows his eyes, his gaze moving to my lower lip where my teeth is gnawing at it furiously. 

"Just don't go out of sight." I breathe. Not waiting to see if he answers, I continue. "Rule number two. No sleeping with teachers. Or any member of staff. Ever." 

He moves even closer until the space between our faces is almost non existent. I don't dare back away and give him the impression that I'm completely flustered by his proximity when I'm not. 

The lies we tell ourselves. 

"Not even if they beg?" He whispers, his breath fanning my face. He'd taken a glass of mango juice before we left the house and I could almost taste it. I bite my lip until I draw blood and unlock the doors, dragging my bag and jumping out of the car, my heart racing like I'd run a mile. I vaguely hear his door shut and he's waiting, with a knowing smirk curving his lips. For me to lead him through the school gates. Swaggering beside me like a model on the runway, his hand brushes mine and I tell myself that I'm imagining the sparks. 

Of course you are, Amelia. No one getssparks for their stepbrother. Especially when they're demons named Angels. 

It's like a celebrity has walked into the school because all the people we walk past stop to stare and whisper. He is a celebrity and he looks like eye candy so I'm not even surprised. 

It's when we were in the hallway that Beth–a cheerleader and one of Jane's minions, in her signature short jean skirt and plunging neckline yellow top, her jet black hair hanging loose on her shoulders– stops in front of us, in front of Miguel, totally ignoring me and grins so wide, I'm surprised her mouth doesn't split. 

"Miguel Angel, hey, I could show you to where newbies get their class schedules if you want. I'm a fan." Well. It hasn't taken a minute for someone to recognize him. 

She wraps her arms under her breast, the goods almost spilling out of her top. Miguel's smirk is out and in full force as he surveys what is offered to him on a platter. 

"Just Angel is fine, sugar." He says, adding his Spanish accent intentionally and I watch as Beth and all the girls within hearing radius of swoon. He turns his eyes to me. "Do you mind?" 

Beth bats her lashes at me and I frown, itching to tear those fake extensions off her eyes but I turns to my stepbrother,  tilting my head up to look at him, a sweet smile on my face. "Of course, brother." 

The smirk vanishes from his face and I raise an eyebrow, feigning boredom and waiting for them to walk away so I can walk to my locker in peace and hopefully find my best friend. 

He turns away from me, his attention on Beth. "Sweet girl, your name is?" 

"Bethany, Beth for short." She giggles, the sound shrill. 

"Sweet Bethany, I'd like to walk my sister to her locker, do you mind waiting a moment?" 

Shaking her head, she gives us space and it's like the rest of the hallway hears his command because they move away, but not far enough that they don't see his next move. 

I feel like a deer leading a lion to a field for my slaughter as Miguel walks me to my locker. Immediately we get to it, he turns me to face him, my back hitting the locker with a soft thud and leans to whisper in my right ear, his lip ring brushing my cheek as he says in a voice meant for only me to hear. "I am not your brother. Our parents are fucking, Mia. That's all. Just like I'm going to fuck Bethany. Maybe I'll let you watch, if you want to." My heart beats frantically in my chest and I can only look at him as he withdraws slowly, reaching out a hand as if to pat me on the head. It takes me  minute too late to realize that he's  removed the ribbon I used to tie my hair up in a ponytail, my shoulder length straight tresses falling all over my shoulder. 

"I had a feeling you'd look better with your hair down." Briefly combing his hands through my tresses, he nods with a satisfied smile "I was right. See you later, good girl." 

I watch him disappear down the hall, Beth leading the way and all giggles. The image of Beth riding him, chasing her orgasm was etched in my mind very well into the end of the day. 

Wanton bastard. 

At least I can cuss in my head.