His warm breath drifts across my lips as he tilts my head. “Too bad I didn’t realize what a little liar you were from the get-go. I would have done a better job of guarding myself against you.” His lips twist with bitterness. “You live and learn, right?”
“I’m not a liar,” I gulp, forcing down the nerves as his jaw clenches, fury igniting in his eyes.
“The hell you are,” he snorts. “I was honest with you, Summer. I tried to make this shit situation work and here you were, screwing me over from the very beginning.”
His fingers tighten on my hair and my chin rises a few more inches until my throat is bared. A whimper escapes from my mouth. A potent concoction of fear and excitement crash through me, dampening my panties.
“You accused me of playing games and it was you all along.” The smirk that settles on his lips is full of menace and cruelty. Hatred vibrates off him in heavy waves that threaten to suffocate me. “Don’t think I’ll be fooled so easily again.”
“That’s not what happened,” I whisper.
“No?” His brows rise. “Then explain it to me.”
My tongue darts out to smudge my lips with moisture.
His gaze drops to the movement as rage mingles with desire. The intensity that wafts off him is almost frightening. “Do you have any idea how much it sucks to want you?”
Ignoring the question, I say, “I didn’t know my parents were looking for a way to break the contract.” Desperation and sadness surge through me.
Any lust that had crept over his features disappears as his expression turns threatening. “Bullshit! You were aware of it from the beginning,” he barks.
I flinch and shake my head as his words echo off the cavernous walls. I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I passed by any students or teachers on my way through the library. Panic engulfs me. Even if there are people occupying the space, none will dare to stop Kingsley. They’ll turn a blind eye and walk away.
“I found out a few days before you did.”
“And you said nothing?” His eyes narrow. “Not a damn word?”
Guilt floods through me as I admit, “I couldn’t betray them.”
“So you betrayed me instead?” The smile that flickers across his face doesn’t quite reach the frigidness of his eyes. It’s disconcerting how much the chilled look makes him resemble his father. “Then again, it wasn’t really a betrayal, now was it? You were always looking for a way out. You led me to believe you were committed.”
“That’s not true!” The rest pours out in a rush. “I didn’t think anything would come of it.” My throat goes dry, making it impossible to swallow. “I figured it would all fall apart, and no one would ever find out that they tried to break the agreement. I didn’t want to cause any more problems between our families.”
“How did that work out for you?”
My shoulders sink. “Not well.”
He lowers his mouth before tracing his tongue along the curve of my top lip. I can’t stop myself from melting beneath the caress. My punishment is to forever want someone who loathes my very existence.
When he pulls away a fraction, I murmur brokenly, “I never meant to hurt you.”
Only now do I realize how desperate I am for him to believe me. My father’s death has wrecked havoc throughout my life. No longer is there anyone to lean on. As much as it pains me to admit it, I need him. I need Kingsley’s strength to get me through this. As his lips hover over mine, I groan, wanting so much more. Is it possible for him to banish the grief that throbs through me like a living, breathing entity?
“You fucked me over and made a fool out of me,” he whispers harshly. “When I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never heard of this damn town.”
I yelp when his teeth sink into my lip. Pain bursts through me and the warm metallic taste of blood overwhelms my senses. His gaze drops to the red smear on my lip before he laves it with his tongue.
“I’ll be staying after for football. When I get home, your ass better be there. Don’t make me hunt you down.”
He doesn’t wait for a response as his grip loosens from my hair. Tears flood my eyes as he slides from the table, sauntering away. The little bit of solace I had found in the library has been shattered. And somehow, I don’t think I’ll ever find it again.
As the door slams shut in the distance, my gaze falls to the table and the brown paper bag that has been left behind in his wake. It only sends more confusion rippling through me.
Chapter Twenty
At the end of the day, Everly drops me off at home so that Austin has access to the G-wagon after practice. The thought of my brother being on the same field with Kingsley after they almost came to blows this morning fills me with dread. Austin needs to keep his temper under control and not get into anymore trouble. There’s no way in hell that Kingsley will bail him out for a second time. If anything, the dark-haired boy will gun for my brother’s expulsion.
With a wave, I watch Everly pull out of the driveway before heading into the house. I slip inside before closing the door and dropping my backpack to the marble floor in the entryway like I’ve done dozens of times.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, I close my eyes and allow myself to pretend that my life hasn’t been blown apart at the seams. As I wait for Mom to call out an upbeat greeting from the study, I pray with all my might that the last week has been nothing more than a terrible dream. I’ll wake up with Kingsley’s arms wrapped around me before collapsing against him and sharing the details. When I’m finished, he’ll smack a kiss against my lips, assuring me that everything is fine.
Instead, the house remains eerily silent. There’s a staleness that clings to the air that never used to be there. When I finally open my eyes, the weight of the world presses down until I’m paralyzed with the heaviness of it.
Memories swirl around me and I gravitate to the study. As I sag against the doorframe, resting my head along the smooth grain wood, my gaze falls on the empty desk and sorrow crashes over me like a heavy wave, threatening to drag me under. How many times did I find my father sitting behind the antique piece of furniture, staring at his laptop while Mom was curled up on a wingback chair, enjoying a cup of tea as afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window?
With one blink, the image dissolves, leaving behind an ache in its place. Unable to stand the debilitating grief that radiates through me, I turn away and head to the staircase. It takes effort to trudge up the curving treads. Once at the second floor, I turn toward the master suite only to find the door closed. Instead of knocking, I turn the handle and peek inside. Mom is a huddled mass in the middle of the king-sized mattress. My heart sinks as a feeling of powerlessness overwhelms me. I have no idea what to do for her or how to make the situation better. While Dad was stolen from us in the blink of an eye, it seems like Mom plans to drift away a little bit at a time. I’m not sure which is worse.
As I stare at the bed, my throat tightens until breathing becomes difficult. My fingers shake as they go to the top button of my shirt, needing to loosen the constricting material around my neck. It’s like I’m being strangled from the inside out. My mind spins as a wave of dizziness crashes over me. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and focus on my inhalations, willing myself not to fall apart. The turmoil continues to riot beneath the surface of my skin. It’s getting increasingly difficult to tamp down. I’m afraid of what will happen if it all bursts loose.
Who will be there to pick up the pieces?
No one.
I’m alone in this.
It’s a devastating realization. I’ve never felt this overwhelmed or lonely in my life.
Since Mom is dead to the world, I give in, allowing myself to have a mini breakdown. Five minutes to release some of the fear and anxiety that has become my constant companion. A few tears slide down my face as I silently rail at God.
Once my emotions have been purged, I blow out a steady breath and pull myself back together. There are only a few h
ours before I need to return to Rothchild Mansion. I’ve never known Kingsley to make idle threats. I wholeheartedly believe him when he says my ass better be there or else.
Since it’s doubtful Mom has eaten anything other than the toast Austin made this morning, I return to the kitchen and rummage around in the refrigerator. But it’s a barren wasteland. The food that remains has either reached the end of its shelf life or looks like a home grown fifth-grade penicillin project. I fire off a text to Austin asking him to stop at the store after practice and pick up a few necessities.
In the freezer, I find a pound of ground beef, along with a jar of spaghetti sauce and a box of noodles in the cabinet. It’s not exactly the dinner of champions, but it’ll do.
Thirty minutes later, I’m scooping noodles into a bowl, adding a bit of sauce, and sprinkling on parmesan cheese to finish it off. I grab a fork from the drawer and a bottle of water from the fridge before taking it upstairs.
The curtains are drawn, making the room dark and stuffy. I set the bowl and bottle on the nightstand next to the bed before gravitating to the windows and yanking back the thick brocade curtains until the late afternoon sunshine can filter into the room. Then I crack open the windows, allowing in a rush of fresh air. It’s early October and the temperatures are hovering in the low to mid-seventies. I inhale a deep breath, feeling less off kilter than earlier.
As if Mom can sense the change in atmosphere, she shifts under the covers, flipping them off her head before blinking and glancing around. She has the look of an animal waking from a long hibernation.
When her slumberous gaze falls on me, I force a smile to my lips. “Hi, Mom. How do you feel?”
“Summer?” Drowsiness clouds her voice as she drags herself to a seated position. “What time is it? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
Her disoriented state has my heart cracking wide open.
“School is over. It’s almost four o’clock. Austin should be home in an hour.”
“It’s four in the afternoon?” She drags a hand over her face as confusion fills her eyes. “What day is it?”
I clear away the thick emotion that attempts to clog my throat. “Tuesday.”
“Oh.” Her brows pinch together. “I’m sorry, honey. How long has your dad been gone?”
If my heart weren’t already breaking, that question would shatter it into a million pieces. She sounds so lost and bewildered, like a small child. It’s unnerving to see her in this condition. “Seven days.” A week exactly. Almost to the hour.
She nods as wetness gathers in her eyes. “Okay.”
I blink to keep my own tears at bay. One of us needs to stay strong. And apparently that person is me. I point to the bowl on the nightstand. “I made spaghetti for dinner.”
“You did?” Surprise colors her voice.
“Yup.” I draw in a breath and force it out before hoisting my lips. “I can’t guarantee it’s any good,” I shrug, “but it’s better than nothing.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful.” An anemic smile settles across her lips as if she, too, is trying to bring a bit of normalcy to our relationship. “Thank you, Summer.”
“It wasn’t a problem.”
“Maybe not, but I really appreciate it.” She slides back against the pillows before picking up the bowl and using her fork to twirl the noodles around the silver tines.
As she takes a few bites, I settle at the foot of the bed. She glances at me, looking a little more like herself. The haziness has dissipated from her eyes. It might not be much, but it’s a tiny step in the right direction.
“It’s really good.” Once she finishes half the bowl, she sets the ceramic dish on the nightstand and takes a drink from her bottle of water. “I don’t know what I would do without you and your brother.”
“That’s not something you have to worry about,” I reassure her. “We’re not going anywhere.”
I chew my lower lip as indecision flickers through me. I don’t want to send her rocketing back to the bottom of the pill bottle, but I can’t keep her in the dark much longer. She needs to know what’s going on.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” I say hesitantly, trying to gauge whether I’m making the right call.
“What is it?” Her body stills as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can’t exactly blame her for that. It’s been a shit week.
Much like ripping off a Band-Aid, it’s probably best to get it over with quickly.
“Keaton sent over the original contract that you and Dad signed last night, along with a new one.” When she remains silent, I continue. “Unless Dad found a way out of it, there’s nothing we can do. We have to hold up our end of the deal or he’ll sue us and take Hawthorne Industries.”
She releases a pent-up breath from her lungs before admitting, “The lawyer he hired thought we had a fifty-fifty chance at getting Grandma Rose’s affidavit thrown out.”
My shoulders collapse as I digest that bit of information. “Then there’s no way out of this situation.” It’s not a question. More like a death sentence.
“I’m not sure.” She shakes her head before dragging a hand through her disheveled hair. “I don’t think so.”
The emotional dam held precariously in place breaks as all of my hope disappears. “One condition of the new contract is that I live at the Rothchild Mansion.”
“What? No!” The bit of color filling her cheeks drains away. “He can’t do that!”
A gurgle of laughter bursts from my lips. “Well, he did. Keaton threatened to sue us if I wasn’t at his doorstep by nine o’clock last night, so I packed my bags and went over.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers in a strangled voice as a look of despair fills her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
It takes everything I have inside not to scream out my frustration. I’m eighteen years old, I need my mother to pull her shit together and figure this out. These aren’t problems I should have to tackle on my own.
When she remains silent, I say in a voice devoid of emotion, “You need to get ahold of Dad’s lawyer and make sure there’s nothing else that can be done.” Even though it hurts to push the rest out, there’s no longer a choice. “Dad is gone, and you need to take care of this.”
She squeezes her eyes together as a lone tear treks down her cheek. When she finally opens them, she looks more in control. There are flickers of the woman she once was, fighting to break through the impenetrable wall of grief. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
A sigh of relief escapes as I cling to the tiny shred of hope she has given me.
I’m surprised when she asks, “Are you all right over there?” Worry flickers across her face, making the tiny lines bracketing her mouth more pronounced. “Has he...hurt you?”
Unwilling to reveal the truth, I shake my head and smooth out my features. The less she knows, the better. “I’m fine. There’s a housekeeper who showed me around last night.” Kind of. “And I never saw Keaton.”
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of Kingsley.
Her shoulders loosen as she sucks her lower lip into her mouth before chewing it. “I’ll get you out of this, Summer.” Resolve fills her voice, strengthening it. “I promise.”
I nod, relieved that I won’t be left to molder away at the Rothchild estate. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry that your dad and I ever agreed to the terms.” She swipes at another tear with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what we were thinking.”
I glance away, not wanting her to see the bitterness that fills my expression. I’ve often wondered the same thing. Before Dad passed away, all I had wanted was a choice over my future. My feelings for Kingsley were never in question. It had more to do with our relationship being forever tied to the company and family history.
Now it’s an entirely different story. If she doesn’t find a loophole out of this nonsense, I could spend the rest of my life with a man who desp
ises me.
The thought is almost enough to bring me to my knees.
Chapter Twenty-One
The entire time I’m with Mom, I keep a careful eye on the clock, knowing I need to haul ass next door before Kingsley arrives home from practice. If not, there will be hell to pay. And I’d rather not deal with him anymore than necessary. With precisely sixty seconds to spare before the clock strikes six, I slip through the front door of Rothchild Mansion. From somewhere deep inside the bowels of the house, a grandfather clock strikes six times. As I fly to the staircase, prepared to hide out in my room for the rest of the evening, I spot Keaton watching me from midway up the stairs and stumble to a halt.
There’s a strong family resemblance between him and his son. They both have the same dark features, height, and athletic build. One difference is the cold calculatedness that radiates from Keaton’s eyes, freezing me to the core every time I come in contact with him. It’s the reason I’ve gone out of my way to avoid his presence. Now that I’m being forced to live under the same roof, it’ll be more of a challenge.
“Ah, Ms. Hawthorne, so lovely to see you again.” His lips lift into a thin smile that doesn’t reach the iciness of his eyes as he continues toward me. “I trust you’ve settled in and are enjoying your accommodations?”
Not really.
The question is borne out of politeness rather than actual concern.
“Yes.” I straighten to my full height and hold my ground, even though I’m sorely tempted to turn tail and run. “Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” Once he reaches the last tread, the soles of his polished-to-a-high shine wingtips strike the marble as he strolls toward me. “I must confess that it’s nice to have a female in the house again.”
I swallow, unsure how to respond to the bizarre comment. I’m almost tempted to ask where his wife is.
Alive and well?
Buried in the backyard?
Queen of Hawthorne Prep Page 14