Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone

by Cambria Hebert

  “Me too!” Ivory clapped.

  She always clapped when she was really excited.

  I told myself it wasn’t cute.

  I lied.

  “I hope we get a second season,” Ethan added.

  Both girls turned toward him. “You’ve watched too?”

  “Sometimes I can’t sleep,” he answered with a shrug.

  One of the officers cleared his throat. “Could you please brief us on the situation, Ms. White? Are you being detained against your will?”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened, and a small hand pressed against her chest. “Goodness, no! I’m just trying to hide from the huntsman who keeps trying to kill me.”

  Everyone in the room made choking sounds.

  Except for me. I smiled. That was my princess. So matter-of-fact.

  “Are you saying someone has been trying to kill you?”

  “Why else would I look this way?” She wondered, motioning to herself.

  Ethan made a sound. “I can corroborate that statement. Ivory is always flawless.”

  “She doesn’t need to be flawless to be beautiful,” I snapped.

  This guy was about to be introduced to my fist.

  Ivory glanced at me, her eyes softening, and the clenched hand at my side relaxed.

  “Could we please get back to the murder accusations?” the officer said, his voice strained.

  “Well, you know about how I went missing from the park. You found my blood.”

  “How do you know that?” Ethan inquired.

  “I saw it on the news. I saw you and Stepmother too. You looked so handsome.”

  Ethan beamed under the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “And then what happened?” the officer questioned.

  “I met Neo and his friends. They’ve been graciously allowing me to stay with them while I try and figure out what to do.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me? You know I can protect you,” Ethan admonished.

  “Yeah, well, I have been,” I snapped, out of patience. Leaving my sister’s side, I went to Ivory, grasping her wrist and tugging her away from Ethan and next to me.

  “I’m afraid we are wondering the same thing, Ms. White. Why didn’t you come to the authorities?”

  “Because the man who attacked me told me I couldn’t. He said I had to disappear and that if he saw me again, he would kill me for sure.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “He cut off all my hair, yanked off my fingernail.” She held up her bandaged finger. “And threatened me with a knife.”

  “How horrible!” Ethan gasped.

  Seriously, who wrote his lines?

  “And I was planning to come back… but he tried again. Twice.”

  “He’s tried to kill you three times in the past two days?”

  Ivory nodded, leaning a little closer to me, so I shifted, offering to take some of her weight.

  The other officer looked at me. “And you are?”

  “Name’s Neo,” I answered.

  “He saved my life twice. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.” Gasping, she pointed to the bandage on the back of my head. “Look at what the huntsman did to him! He just got ten stitches.”

  “Why do you keep calling him the huntsman? Did the assailant tell you that’s his name?”

  “He’s hunting me,” Ivory replied as if it made perfect sense.

  Everyone nodded, so maybe it did.

  “Did you get a look at his face? Could you identify him, work with a sketch artist—”

  “Whoa, whoa, officers. She’s clearly been through a major ordeal. Can some of this wait until she’s had some food and a shower?” Ethan asked, concern darkening his chiseled features.

  “The press is here,” Emogen announced from the doorway. “They’re looking for a missing heiress?” Her wide dark eyes moved to Ivory, widening farther.

  “This is definitely not the place for an interrogation.” Ethan confirmed, a total air of confidence and leadership ruminating about him.

  “I agree. I prefer not to be photographed like this,” Ivory said.

  “We will escort you home.”

  “Not necessary,” Ethan put in. “I already have my team of bodyguards downstairs.”

  Of course he did.

  “Perhaps you could come to my high-rise later this evening. I will be happy to cooperate then.” Ivory obliged.

  “That would probably be best. If you come to the station, it will be inundated by press.”

  “Thank you so much for your time, gentlemen. You are very heroic in your duties. This city is lucky to have officers like you watching over us,” Ivory told them sincerely.

  Both officers flushed and cleared their throat. No one was immune to Ivory White and her charm.

  They left the room first, and then Ethan draped an arm across her shoulders, sheltering her into his side. “Let’s go.” His voice was gentle.

  Virginia was giving me dire, desperate looks, silently asking me how I could just stand there and watch Ivory be taken away.

  But maybe she wasn’t being taken away so much as being brought back to where she belonged.

  “If I could kick you, I already would have,” V practically hissed in my direction.

  My face turned sour and so did my stomach as I watched Ethan escort Ivory out.

  “Wait!” she said, stopping them both and pulling from beneath his hold.

  Sapphire eyes turned back to me, emotion deepening the normally bright blue to something deeper. “It’s best if I go now.” She spoke, staring only at me. “If I don’t, the press will never leave you and your friends alone.”

  I said nothing at all.

  Clearing her throat, she spoke again. “And I’ve already put you in so much danger. I’m very sorry about your head.”

  Virginia made a threatening sound, promising some sort of evil retribution if I didn’t act right.

  I smiled my best smile. “I have a hard head, so it’s okay.”

  Disappointment flashed through Ivory’s eyes, and I felt that singular emotion down to my core.

  “Will you tell the misfits good-bye and thank you for me?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  Why was my throat tightening up? Why did my palms itch and my feet want to not stay in place?

  “Okay then,” she said, turning toward my sister. “It was so lovely meeting you, Virginia. Perhaps I could come visit you again sometime?”

  I made a sound, about to cut that off instantly, but Virginia spoke first.

  “Will you? Oh, that would be so fun!”

  “Of course. Maybe you could braid my hair.” Why did her voice sound watery and thick? Why did it sound like she was about to cry?

  “Definitely!” Virginia agreed brightly.

  “Ivory,” Ethan called from the doorway. “If we don’t go now, the press will catch us.”

  I felt her stare back on me, but I avoided it.

  “You don’t have anything else to say?” she asked, and I knew it was directed toward me.

  “Nope.”

  Her momentary pause felt like a year-long journey, and then she turned and walked away.

  “Thank you for everything. Thank you for saving my life,” she said from the doorway, likely from Ethan’s embrace.

  “Just a regular day in the Grimms,” I called back, looking down at my feet.

  And then she was gone, and it felt like she took all of the oxygen in the place with her.

  “You are so stupid!” Virginia reproached. “How could you just let her walk away like that?”

  “She’s better off,” I murmured, the words actually painful to speak.

  “Well, considering the look of hurt on her face when you just treated her that way.” V swore. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Suddenly, the pain was too much. The piercing ache in my heart threatened to split me in two. Regret so bitter and thick rose up the back of my throat. I would likely taste it for weeks. Springing into action, I raced out into th
e hall, eyes scouring everywhere for a glimpse of her black-as-night hair, rose-red lips, and skin as fair as snow…

  She was gone. Vanished as if she’d been only a dream.

  The pain in my heart was too raw and too real for her to have been a mere dream.

  When I raced down the hallway and into one of the “nicer” rooms in The Tower, Mrs. Regina looked up from her bed.

  “Mind if I borrow the window?” I asked, rushing to it without waiting for a reply.

  Some of Ivory’s dramatic tendencies must have rubbed off on me because my palm flattened against the windowpane as I stared down at the street.

  An immaculate white Mercedes was parked at the curb, not even in a parking space, but I guess a guy like Ethan could park wherever he chose.

  I watched him pull open the passenger door, motioning for Ivory to get inside. She hesitated, and the wind blew, ruffling the strands of her hair. Ethan shrugged out of his sports jacket, carefully draping it around her slight frame. She was swallowed up immediately, buried beneath the expensive fabric.

  He motioned for her to get in again, but she turned back instead, gazing up at the brownstone. My palm made a god-awful squealing sound as it dragged down the glass and I dropped onto the floor away from the window.

  “Boy, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” Mrs. Regina asked, giving me an odd look.

  “Shh!” I pressed a finger to my lips.

  She tsked and went back to whatever she was watching on TV.

  My heart still racing, I slowly straightened inch by inch. Ivory was no longer standing on the sidewalk but was now bundled into the car. I watched Ethan move around to the driver’s side and climb in.

  Seconds later, the sparkling white luxury car slid smoothly away from the curb.

  The prince came to claim his princess, and I let her go without a fight.

  43

  Ivory

  * * *

  The tile was cool underfoot, the walls echoing with silence, and the night view of Central Park and the city around it was attractive as always. The entire day was spent answering question after question, explaining and then explaining again.

  People were downright worried and mourning what they thought was my loss, so when I reappeared, everyone wanted to call, text, and visit.

  We’d managed to keep everyone away. I was in no condition to be seen right now. I wanted to be put together. I wanted to be the Ivory White everyone knew.

  Even if something inside me was changed. Altered.

  Not the same.

  Besides, even if I did feel different, it was no excuse to go on looking this way. I was positively a mess.

  Once I’d gotten rid of my personal physician, police, security, Ethan, and had a lengthy call with my stepmother (who would be visiting soon), I was finally blissfully alone.

  Bone-deep exhaustion clung to me like a heavy cloak, trying to drag me into its endless depths as I ran a hot bath filled with soaking salts and expensive bubble bath that Louis Vuitton had sent over the second word got out that I was actually discovered alive.

  There was also an entire rack of couture clothing filled with new releases from my favorite luxury brands that had been delivered by security, literally wheeled right into the penthouse for me to peruse at leisure.

  It was incredibly sweet, even if I knew they were just hoping I would be photographed in the clothing when I finally faced the press and went into my company.

  As the tub filled the spacious bathroom with soothing scents, I wandered through the house again, dragging my fingertips over the luxurious fabrics of my furniture, the sleek Tiffany lamp in the living room, and the imported marble island in the kitchen.

  Browsing briefly through the rack of clothing, I put my favorite pieces toward the front and then gazed wearily at the boxes of shoes that had also been sent to match each piece.

  Tomorrow Marco, my stylist, and his team would be here to fix my hair, give me a much-needed manicure/pedicure, and help erase the mess my skin was in.

  In the bathroom, I shut off the faucet and flipped on some soothing instrumental music. As I stepped into the deep soaking tub, a violin began to play.

  Tears I didn’t know I’d been holding back burst free, accompanied by a low sob.

  Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Deep wrenching cries echoed around me and made my chest heave. Shoulders ached from the tension, and my nose ran, mixing with the saltiness of my tears.

  I let myself cry. Sometimes a girl just needed to.

  I’d been through a lot, and now I was finally home. Finally safe.

  But it wasn’t relief making me cry. Or even the trauma of almost dying three times.

  It wasn’t even my heinous hacked-up hair.

  It was him.

  Neo.

  I could still feel the distance between us when Ethan came to take me away. How jarring it was to be clinging to his lips, practically melting into his body in one moment and the next him barely batting an eye when I had to go.

  He didn’t even try to stop me.

  He didn’t ask to see me again.

  It almost seemed he was relieved I was finally going.

  I cried harder. Fat tears dripped into the massive amount of bubbles floating around my body.

  It might have been easier to convince myself it was better this way if my lips didn’t still tingle from his. If all day long, I hadn’t pressed them together, trying to taste his tongue or relive how overwhelming it was to kiss him.

  He had a horrible sense of style. He always had paint all over him, rips in his jeans. His hair needed cut, and sometimes he couldn’t bother to shave.

  He was also grumpy, prone to lying, and living with three other men.

  I missed him already. I missed all of them. Even Earth, who was probably throwing a party because I was no longer there.

  Crying out the worst of it all, I leaned back, completely spent, allowing the warm water to caress my skin and alleviate all the aches I felt.

  Keeping my freshly bandaged and professionally doctored finger out of the water, I let my eyes slip closed, blocking out the flickering light from the candles.

  A great sigh moved through me, but the second I truly relaxed, my mind attacked with memories of being tossed into that cold dark river. My nose began to burn, remembering the water I’d swallowed. The water I’d been soaking in suddenly felt like an attack.

  “Agh!” Gasping, I sat up so forcefully that a little bit of water sloshed over the side, the bubbles making a distinct plop on the floor.

  I pressed a hand to my chest, gulping down oxygen, more tears rushing to my eyes.

  “Maybe a bath was a bad idea,” I murmured to no one, then sighed with shame. “But this is such a luxurious bubble bath.”

  It was absolutely a far cry from the scary, possessed shower at Neo’s place.

  The bottom fell out of my belly with just the casual thought of Neo. Was he so ingrained in me already that he filled my head?

  Afraid to lie back and let flashbacks pummel me again, I chose instead to wash, using all the luxurious products I loved so much.

  I even shampooed and conditioned my hair twice. It wasn’t easy with just one hand, but I managed. Soon, I was wrapping up in a giant, soft towel.

  Imported body oil added the moisture back into my skin, and I also combed through a special conditioner into my strands, hoping it might make it look less horrifying to Marco in the morning.

  The scratches on my cheek still stung a bit, so I took extra care, then pouted a bit when I rubbed over the knife cut on the back of my neck.

  Inside my walk-in closet, everything was perfectly organized, and the scent of fresh jasmine floated softly in the air. I wandered through the racks and browsed the drawers, looking for something to sleep in and finding nothing at all.

  Sitting on the lounge near the large island, I pondered what it was I was looking for.

  The image of an ugly red flannel flashed behind my eyes.

  Gasping, I stood.
“An entire closet at your disposal, and that’s what you look for? Ivory White, get your mind right,” I scolded, marching to a nearby drawer to pull out a black silk nightie with spaghetti straps. The hem was short and lined with black lace, the smooth feel of the fabric whispering over my skin.

  Slipping on the matching robe and a pair of Givenchy slippers, I went to the kitchen for some Perrier.

  The penthouse was dark, the moon providing most of the light through the large windows. The quiet was something I relished, but tonight, for some reason, it seemed too quiet. I felt too alone.

  After pouring water into a glass, I pondered, making some green tea to help me relax but ended up traveling to the window to stare down at the city forest.

  The last time I’d been there, someone had tried to kill me. Shuddering, I recalled what happened in that ominous tunnel, feeling as though it had been so long ago, but really, it was just days.

  Thump.

  My ears perked up.

  Bang!

  Spinning around, I searched for the cause of the noise.

  No one was there. Inside my apartment, all was still.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Rattle. Rattle.

  Was that the front door?

  Panic assailed me, my heart beating so fast it made me nauseous. Had the huntsman found me? Was he trying to get past my bodyguards?

  Was coming home a mistake?

  More scuffling sounds and even a grunt echoed out.

  Setting aside my glass, I crept into the entryway, staring at the door. The chain rattled, knocking against the thick wood.

  My hands shook, legs trembling. Instead of running away, I took a breath and moved forward. If it really was the huntsman, I needed to know.

  The door shuddered, and a startled cry ripped from my throat.

  “No one is permitted entrance,” I heard one of my guards nearly shout.

  Furrowing my brows, I closed my hand around the handle.

  “Stay inside, Ms. White,” the guard called, obviously hearing me undo the locks.

  I probably should have listened.

  I didn’t.

  Instead, I turned the knob and swung open the door.