Reign: A Romance Anthology

by Nina Levine

  “I’m glad you’re here, come join us. Sebastian is visiting your grandparents,” Mom offers, opening a seat beside Amelia.

  Amelia’s eyes widen until she drops her face quietly, not saying a word. Huh, interesting from Miss Keep-Your-Dick-in-Check Edwards. Curiosity overcomes me as I accept my mom’s offer and take a seat beside her. Her body almost stiffens, making this all the more fun.

  “Amelia tells us that she visited you today?”

  “Yes,” I say, taking a sip of the wine Mom poured, though eyeing the beer Dad has in his hand.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Dad chuckles with his cheeky grin. “You’re going to drive all the college boys crazy, just like your mother.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Uncle Rocky,” she answers politely.

  “How are you enjoying college life?” Mom asks.

  “I love it, to be honest. Homesick at times, but aside from that, I’m enjoying being in New Haven. It’s a beautiful place.”

  “Yale has the most wicked parties.” Dad whistles, digging his fork into his chicken like the caveman he is. “Do you remember that one when the cops were called, and you and I were—”

  “Jesus, Dad, please don’t continue that sentence.”

  My mom purses her lips, hiding her smile.

  “I hope you’re enjoying the social aspects. It’s good to have a well-rounded college experience. A college boyfriend isn’t so bad, either.”

  “I’m kind of… well, seeing someone.”

  My ears perk up, though I keep my gaze fixated on the plate in front of me.

  “Oh, from Yale?”

  “Actually, no, he attends John Hopkins.”

  “How did you meet?” Mom continues. “John Hopkins isn’t exactly close.”

  “Back in LA, we… uh… decided to continue our relationship.”

  I don’t know why this information bothers me. A stupid high school crush means nothing. And she’s a fool to think she can keep a guy from screwing the girls knocking on his door. What do you care, anyway?

  “Well, take it from us, young love can turn into a lifetime. I’m sure your parents can say the same.”

  Great, now they just contradicted my entire thought process.

  The rest of the conversation revolves around college. My input is required here and there. Dad steers the conversation to work, which raises the topic of hiring a new assistant. For fuck’s sake, why does everyone feel the need to entertain themselves with my fucking business?

  “It’s late,” Amelia says, checking her phone. “I should catch the train back.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort. Rocky, drive her back?”

  “Of course.” Dad wipes his mouth, pushing his chair back to find his keys.

  “I’ll take her,” I offer, all eyes falling on me, including Amelia’s, who isn’t shy in hiding her annoyed expression.

  “Even better.” Dad winks, sitting back down and sliding the tray of chicken toward him.

  As we enter the car, I expect her to say thank you or some sentiment worthy of a conversation starter, but nothing of the sort. The drive is quiet and unsure of what to say, I want to pry more into this whole boyfriend thing—the subject alone piquing my curiosity.

  “So, does your dad know about your boyfriend?”

  She clears her throat, avoiding my gaze. “Not exactly. He knows of him and that we dated in high school. Why do you ask?”

  “Just surprised you lie to him.”

  Her face turns to meet mine. “I don’t lie to him. I merely save that information for myself. It’s not like he asked me about it, so, therefore, no lying.”

  “John Hopkins is far. What kind of a relationship is that, anyway?”

  “One that’s none of your business.”

  Her frustrated tone is obvious, like she seems bothered to be in my presence.

  “You better be careful,” I warn her, without a smile. “If your dad finds out, all hell will break loose.”

  “I’m nineteen next week. I live across the country. He can say all he wants. He can’t expect me to stay celibate forever,” she responds with more bite than before. “And anyway, why do you care about what my dad thinks? If I have to fight my dad to be with someone I care deeply about, then so be it, I will.”

  I almost laugh at the notion. No one goes up against Lex.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “It’s like you haven’t met Lex Edwards.”

  “As long as I’m with someone who respects me, I believe my father will be fine. Not some playboy like you who would break a girl’s heart with so much joy.”

  “Ouch, so you think I’m a playboy?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve heard Mom and Aunt Nikki talk. You’re no saint, which probably explains the revolving door of assistants. Mr. Bigshot, a CEO, can’t commit. It’s all too familiar, according to them.”

  “I see.” I nod with a smirk. “I’m the son your father never had.”

  “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

  “You hear a lot of things, but hearsay isn’t always the truth.”

  I glance over, noting her arms crossed in defiance. “My dorm is just over there. And you know what, I don’t care. Fuck whomever you want. It’s your life.”

  “Well, you seem to care since you keep bringing it up? You seem to be bothered that I like to fuck beautiful women.”

  “Trust me. I don’t care. I find it entertaining, but since we’re here, thanks for the ride, Will. I have no idea why you had to torture yourself by taking me home, unless, of course, you’re hoping to prowl the campus looking for a damsel in distress needing to be rescued?”

  “You know what?” I growl, frustrated at her assumptions. “You’re just as annoying as you were when we were kids.”

  “Yeah, and you’re just as arrogant.”

  I let out a huff. “Well, are you going to get out? According to you, I have someone’s bed to be in.”

  She shakes her head with a knowing grin before exiting the car. “Goodbye, Will, a pleasure as always. Remember to be safe… no glove, no love.”

  The door slams, the same time I fall back onto the seat, annoyed with the entire night.

  I just have to pretend this never happened. If Lex asks me to check on her, I’ll tell him I’m busy with work. He should understand that, surely.

  Yes, work, a distraction I need at this moment to ignore my bothered thoughts and rid myself of Amelia Edwards.

  Once again, the bane of my existence.

  8

  Amelia

  “Can you send me a pic of what you’re wearing?” Ava demands over the phone. “I’m so jealous you get to go to an actual club.”

  “Don’t say anything to Dad,” I warn her. “Besides, one of the guys from my economics classes older brother owns the club, which is how we’re getting in. It’s my birthday, and I want to celebrate.”

  “It’s your first birthday without us,” she whines into the receiver.

  “Even more the reason to have fun.”

  I soon learn that being underage in college often leads to falsifying your age in order to have fun. Joshua Matthews is dating my friend, Liesel. And because of that close connection, he offered to drive us into the city, where he reassured us we could get in. We plan to have dinner next to the club, where Andy will join us. He opted not to continue to the club part of the night since he had an early morning flight to Boston to meet up with his dad.

  “Um…” There’s a shuffle where I’m certain Ava shoved the phone under the pillow.

  “Ava?”

  “Ava?” I repeat louder. “I have to go—”

  “Milly!” she snarls, catching my attention. “Dad just walked into my room. I hope he didn’t hear you.”

  “Don’t say anything,” I remind her again. “Listen, I have to go.”

  “Send me pics, okay? I want a full update tomorrow.”

  I hang up the phone, quickly getting dressed into a black body-con dress with emerald-green strappy
heels, similar to my eye color. With a quick blow dry, I style my hair to the side and clasp on my gold hooped earrings. I was never one to wear too much makeup, opting for a touch of mascara and a light shade of lipstick.

  A few hours later, after a great dinner, Joshua’s brother takes us through the back entrance and straight into the dark club, the music blaring around us with people crammed on the dance floor.

  “Let’s grab a drink,” Liesel shouts into my ear. “Cosmopolitan?”

  I kindly refuse the drink, not wanting to push the limits, given I’m not twenty-one.

  “C’mon, Amelia. Just one?”

  “How about later? Promise.”

  Liesel pouts her lips but doesn’t push any further.

  At the bar, I pull out my phone to text Ava, then quickly hop onto Insta to see the first photo on my feed from Austin’s account. It’s a picture of him with some friends, and more notably, a beautiful blonde girl beside him with her arm in his. My stomach is tied in knots, the slump of my shoulder following soon after from the image with the caption Just another Friday night.

  Since his text about Thanksgiving, we’ve barely spoken aside from the two-second birthday call this morning followed by a delivery of flowers. It has become idle chit-chat, but slowly, I can feel us drifting apart.

  In the corner of my account, I see a notification for a direct message. Opening it up, I glance at the user name and read the message:

  Will R: Going to a club when you’re only 19 is stupid. Do you know the danger you’re putting yourself in?

  What in the hell? How does he know?

  Milly Ed: The same could be said about the number of women you sleep with.

  I see the bubble appear before his message appears.

  Will R: I’m coming to get you.

  I let out an annoying huff, then remember he doesn’t know where I actually am. Without even thinking, I block his username. The week has been bad enough since the night he drove me home. I hate that he has crawled under my skin, and mostly, I hate the way I entertain what it might be like to kiss him when he does this thing at dinner with his lips. It comes out of nowhere, watching his tongue slither on the spoon and my legs tensing at the sight. Between Will and my relationship with Austin, I need that drink.

  “You know what? I’ll take that Cosmo now.”

  Liesel claps her hands, ordering me one immediately. An hour later and several drinks down, I’ve lost count and find myself on the dance floor. I dance with Liesel and Joshua, then with a group of women I made friends with. A couple of guys try to dance, and I’m happily entertained until one of them tries to wrap his hands around my waist.

  I’m just about to politely tell him to back off when I’m yanked in a different direction, almost tripping in my heels.

  My chest is up against Will’s, the burn in his eyes piercing me like an animal ready to attack its enemy.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It seems that our conversation made me believe you weren’t responsible enough to be at this party.”

  “Me? It shows how little you know about me.”

  “If you’re so willing to lie to your dad…”

  “Why are you so hung up on that? Surely, you have more important things to do than taunt me with matters that are still none of your business!”

  I have no idea why he suddenly has to act so macho, and what’s with all my dad talk? It’s been frustrating, to say the least.

  “We are going,” he demands, nostrils flaring.

  “Let me go!” I tell him. “You’re such an ass, and besides, it’s my birthday.”

  “An ass who’ll save your life tonight. And happy birthday.”

  “Really, save my life?” I laugh, pointing my finger into his chest. “Are you going to tattle tale to dear old daddy? Or better yet, follow me to my bedroom. How about the shower? You want to see me there?”

  He begins to pull me through the crowd until the cold air hits my face, and we’re standing outside on the pavement.

  “For God’s sake, Amelia, do you not have any regard for your safety? I’m taking you home.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten,” I say, a small hiccup escaping. “My home is in New Haven, not Manhattan.”

  “I’m taking you back to my place.”

  He doesn’t say another word, hailing a cab and shoving me inside. I begin to argue, though the more I argue, the more my head spins.

  “Give me your phone?” Will demands without reason.

  “Wh… why?”

  “So I can text your friend to let her know you came home with me and you’re okay. What’s her name?”

  “Liesel,” I mumble beneath my breath. “And it’s yet to be decided if I’m okay. I don’t know you anymore. What if you’re a knife-wielding murderer?”

  “Trust me, sweetheart, the last person I’d want to deal with if that were true is you.”

  Will yells to the cab driver to stop at the posh building. Pushing me out the door, he wraps his arm around my waist to carry me since, for some reason, everything begins to spin.

  Somehow, we ride the elevator up and to God knows what floor until we’re standing inside a penthouse apartment.

  “So, this is your place.” I look around at the bachelor pad, noting the leather furniture which appears untouched. “Such a man’s place.”

  “I highly doubt you’ve been in many men’s places to make that judgment.”

  The heat rises in my cheeks—what a dick. “I’ve watched movies. It’s as stereotypical as you can get.”

  Suddenly, the room begins to spin, and bile rises in my throat. “Where’s your… your…” He points to the bathroom, and with only seconds to spare, I say goodbye to the multiple Cosmos I drank—the vile taste lingering in my mouth. Cradling the toilet, I beg for this to be over until it becomes evident that my hair and dress have been caught in the aftermath.

  Stripping my clothes off, disgusted at the thought of my own vomit, I grab a towel and wrap it around me. Opening the door slowly, I call his name but beg him not to come over.

  “Can I please borrow a shirt, and can you leave it at the door?”

  I close the door again, my head spinning from the small movements. There’s a gentle knock on the door. “It’s here, and yes, you can use my shower.”

  Relieved, I retrieve the shirt, then hop into the shower, desperate to wash my hair. After using whatever products he has, all smelling very masculine, I finish up, drying myself, and placing his shirt on. Using my fingers, I comb my hair out.

  The shirt is long enough to appear like a dress. I place my heels on, wondering if cabs will take me all the way back to New Haven at this hour.

  Exiting the bathroom, Will’s eyes fall onto my legs.

  “You plan to do what exactly in my shirt and your heels?”

  “I don’t know, take a cab,” I mumble, wincing my eyes to ignore the pulse inside my head.

  “I’m taking you to bed.”

  “I don’t want to have sex with you,” I say, defeated. “Besides, you’re old.”

  “I’m not suggesting we have sex. I’m ordering you to sleep in my bed because you’ll thank me in the morning when hopefully, your hangover is less than vile. And besides, you’re too young.”

  “You’re not my dad.”

  “If I were your dad, knowing Lex, you’d be shipped back to LA and confined to a nunnery. Stop being so stubborn.”

  He orders me to follow him to his bedroom. Opening the door, the lights turn on yet not so bright. There’s a king-size bed with black satin sheets, which looks so good right about now, and nothing else besides a large glass window overlooking the Hudson River.

  Will leaves the room but returns moments later with Advil and a glass of water.

  “Drink this, take this, and go to sleep.”

  “Where are you sleeping?”

  “On the couch. Why? I can sleep next to you, but sweetheart, just letting you know that sleeping with you will cause you more problems than f
or me.”

  “You’re a jerk,” I mutter.

  I climb into bed and throw the covers over me, watching him continue to stare at me. “Is there something wrong? Has my dad ordered you to sit and watch me all night?”

  “Happy birthday, Amelia, and good luck tomorrow morning.”

  I close my eyes, ignoring his scent splashed all over the pillows and how, even in my intoxicated state, I wonder what it would be like to smell his skin with my own lips.

  And with desire overwhelming me, it isn’t long before the thought is washed away, and sleep is the only thing my body craves.

  9

  Will

  I watch her sleep despite my reluctance to do so.

  When I got the call from Lex last night informing me of Amelia’s Friday night adventure into a Manhattan club, it took a hell of a lot of trawling through her social media, which, thank God, was an open account. She’d posted a story with a picture of a restaurant in SOHO, and I knew precisely which club was located next door.

  But I shouldn’t have sat here watching her all night—the tiny snores she releases and the way her body is spread out in my bed. Thoughts cross my mind, things I should be ashamed of.

  When the morning light streams through the bedroom, I escape to the kitchen, waiting for her to wake up.

  It’s just after eight when I hear feet drag through the hallway.

  “Good morning,” I greet with an overbearing smile. “Has death found you yet?”

  She sits on the stool, moaning. The shirt she wears pulls up, exposing her thigh, yet she doesn’t seem bothered. I quickly shift my attention, ignoring my dick hardening at the sight. Seriously, get a fucking grip on yourself.

  “Remind me never to drink again.”

  “Gladly, since you’re nineteen, the law can also remind you.”

  “How brotherly of you…” she mumbles beneath her breath before her face cringes. “What’s that smell?”

  “It’s called hangover food. A breakfast burrito.”

  “Don’t say the word burrito.”