CHAPTER EIGHT:

Saphielle's POV:

When Izar had asked to be friends, I was convinced it was a prank, a cruel joke just to make me a laughingstock once again.

But he'd been dead serious, his eyes had shone with sincerity and kindness—a kindness I couldn't fully trust.

No one's ever kind without a reason, right? Right.

So what did I do?

As politely as I could, I told him, “No, thank you. I don't need more friends.”

Besides, royals and lowly commoners like me don't mix. Ever.

“Please,” he'd said desperately, looking like a kicked puppy. “Or at least let me take you to my apartment and help dress your wounds.”

I'd followed his train of sight to my hands.

It was a nasty sight.

The nails I'd been digging into the concrete when Kasper shoved me had chopped off, my finger pads had nasty cuts and blood. The skin around my cuticles were already falling off but holding on for dear life with the sticky drying blood serving as glue?

I hadn't even felt the pain until I looked at them. And it stung. Badly.

“But—”

“No one would be home,” he'd said quickly and then flushing when he realized the double meaning of that. “I… I didn't mean it like that.”

I couldn't stop my smile. “I know.”

“So?” He asked hopefully. “Shall we? We can get to know each other, please.”

Alarm bells went off in my head, I mean, this was how Gavril was nice to me and then my life turned upside down.

“Fine, whatever,” I said at last.

At the end of the day, I'd like to think the reason I followed Izar to his ridiculously, expensive looking car and let him take me to his apartment was because I needed help with my wounds and not because of how hurt he looked when I said no.

I'm… I'm not a pushover. I swear it!

We arrived at his apartment—which by the way, was an actual freaking duplex made of glass.

A reminder about the gap in our world. Other students stayed in dorms no matter who or what their parents were but the Princes had a whole duplex built for them inside the school.

He swiped his card at the black, fence gate, and it opened. He led me inside—I couldn't stop looking around, everything about the exterior of the building screamed luxury and I expected nothing less from its interior.

What I wasn't expecting was to find Rosita with her tits almost out of her tiny, purple top straddling Azrael who—

Wait, was that his…?

My face flamed.

I snatched my gaze away from the couple, moving behind Izar for an extra eye shield.

Was that his dick?

Why in the world was it that big?

More importantly, Why did my stomach flip so hard?!!!

They are talking. I can hear voices, but I'm too busy trying to will my heart to calm the fuck down!

It wasn't until I heard Rosita's screeching voice hurling insults at me that my head snapped up.

I almost forgot she was here.

“How dare you call her that,” Izar snapped, his eyes hard.

She glared daggers at me as she spoke, “Izar, I love you but you're too naive for your good! Everyone knows Saphielle's a slut! She's been whoring herself out even to Gavril knowing full well he has a girlfriend!”

I want to crawl into a dark corner and hide.

Anywhere I turn, I'm humiliated. I breathe and there's a problem.

“Doesn't Gavril know he has a girlfriend?” Azrael asked, shocking me. “It takes two to tango, does it not?”

Rosita huffed, throwing her hands in exasperation. “You don't get it, do you? You don't know her! She seduces all the guys in school, lure them in so she could fuck them and what guy wouldn't want a free fuck, hmm?”

“I… I…” My voice was small and shaky. “I should leave.”

“No!” Izar said firmly, pale blue eyes hard with rage. “I invited you here.”

Azrael watched the whole drama with cold, calculating eyes, but I could definitely feel his gaze burning a hole in my face.

Izar took my hand in his and I noticed Azrael's eyes following the movement.

“Saphielle is my friend and you'll give her the same respect for her as you have for me, do I make myself clear?!”

She gasped loudly, her features twisting into shocked rage, “Azrael!” She shrieked. “Did you hear that? He… he spoke to me so rudely because of that lowlife slut!”

Azrael's face was unreadable as he spoke, “My brother asked you a question, Rosita. Answer it. And you'll apologize to him and his guest while at it.”

My heart lurched to my throat.

Rosita's gonna kill me tonight.

“What?! No!” She yelled.

“Then leave.”

It was amazing how quickly her eyes watered up. “You can't do that to me, babe! Not in front of this nobody!”

His face was dark, eerily calm too. “I can.”

“F-for this tramp?” She cried.

“For my brother,” He said firmly, green eyes narrowing. “You disrespected my brother and until you're willing to apologize to him and his guest, I don't want to see you anywhere near this building.”

With that, he pushed past her, marching upstairs while Rosita's glaring eyes never left mine as she snatched her tiny, shiny purse from the couch.

“You'll regret this!”

I knew that. I could feel it in the way my stomach cramped with fear, and the way my heart wouldn't stop pounding.

She'd never let this slide.

I'm doomed. I'm fucked beyond imagination.

I tugged on Izar's hand. “P-Please, let me go… apologize to her or… or call her back or something. You shouldn't really have done that. It's no big deal.” She will make my life a living hell.

He frowned, shaking his head. “You did nothing wrong and you need to trust my brother. He never goes back on his word, she'll apologize to you, you'll see.”

Rosita was right, Izar was too naive for his own good.

“...I'm so sorry on her behalf,” he was still speaking, oblivious to my mini panic attack. “Let's go upstairs, so I can take care of your hand. You're welcome to stay here until the dorm's curfew. Feel free.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

He had a small grin on his face now. “What? Friends spend time at their friend's place, right?”