Keeping your enemies close pays dividends after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I’m still mulling over the intel I gleaned last night as I make my way to Jane’s house bright and early the following morning. I don’t know why the guys were snooping in my dad’s business, but whatever plans they have could benefit me in the long run—if they intend to take him down. So, keeping on their good side is imperative even if I must bow at their feet and eat crow in front of the entire school.
Jane is still in the shower when I arrive, but her mom lets me up to her bedroom to wait for her. This time, I locate the secret camera in the TV socket, and I flip the guys off with a smug grin as I extract the device, pocketing it to give to Xavier over the weekend.
I’ve just finished canvassing the rest of the room, making sure it’s clean, when Jane appears clouded in a layer of steam. “Oh, my freaking God!” she yells, slapping a hand over her chest. “You just scared the shit out of me!!”
“Sorry, babe. Your mom let me up.”
“You’re early,” she says, shedding the towel and getting dressed.
“I didn’t sleep well, so I thought I might as well get up and go to school early.”
“Are you nervous about the show tonight?”
“Definitely.” It’s only a partial truth though. My mind refused to shut down after last night’s kidnapping and breaking and entering expedition. Sleep evaded me on and off throughout the night, as more and more questions floated through my overactive mind. I’m surviving on copious cups of black coffee, adrenaline, and pain pills to blot out the soreness in my back. It’ll be a miracle if I pull off a flawless performance tonight. But Swan Lake is the least of my worries right now.
I’ve been debating whether to tell Jane about the recording, and I’m oscillating between decisions. My instinct is to shield her from the truth because I know it will upset and embarrass her. The other side of my brain says it’s wrong to keep it hidden from her because it was an invasion of her privacy and she has a right to know the recording exists. If things turn pear-shaped and it gets released, she should at least be prepared. And it’s that thought that spurs me into doing the right thing. “Come sit with me,” I say, patting the space on the bed beside me. “I have something I need to tell you.”
At lunch, I’m in the middle of a hushed conversation with Chad when Cam hollers my name across the cafeteria.
Remembering the leverage they have, I grit my teeth, lift my head, and stare at him impassively. He clicks his fingers, gesturing me with a “come hither” expression.
Jane and I share a look. She’s still visibly upset, but I’m not sorry I told her. She deserved to know, and it’s validated my behavior. Drew was livid when he discovered what they’ve done, but at least he understands why I’m playing by their rules now. Charlie does too, and it surprised me how enraged he became when I explained what they made me do last night. Trent, predictably, didn’t see it as a big deal, but he’ll still publicly support Drew on this matter.
I wouldn’t like to be in the new elite’s shoes when Drew returns because he’s out for blood.
“I hate this,” Jane whispers, shooting daggers at the new elite’s table. “I hate that they’re using me to get to you.” Guilt slithers through my veins because she’s not aware they have other ammunition.
“It’s not your fault,” I say in a low voice. “If it wasn’t your video, they would’ve found some other way.” I shoot her a reassuring smile before sucking in a subtle breath and standing. I’m conscious of several eyeballs glued to my back as I walk toward the table the new elite have now commandeered as their own.
The whore is situated on his lap. Again. Her uninjured hand rubs up and down his chest as she nuzzles into his neck.
I’ve been slyly watching them every lunchtime, and while he appears content to let her use his lap as her own personal chair, he never touches her, and he deflects every attempt she makes to kiss him.
I haven’t spent years observing human behavior to ignore the signs.
He’s doing this to piss me off. He has no real interest in her. I’m sure.
Not that it makes it any easier to bear witness to, but it’s showtime, so I plant my game face on and ignore her wandering hand.
“Yes?” I arch a brow.
“Fix me a tray.”
“What?”
“Are you dumb and tit-less?” Rochelle taunts, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his left cheek.
“The only dumb bitch around here is you,” I retaliate. “Not that long ago, you were professing love for my fiancé. If you think Trent will let this betrayal slide, you’re even dumber than I thought.”
Just to annoy her, I lean in to Cam’s free ear and whisper, “She clearly enjoys my sloppy seconds.”
His eyes narrow to slits as he pushes me back. “Get my fucking lunch, and make it snappy.”
I guess whatever camaraderie I felt last night was just an illusion because he’s an even bigger asshole today. I want to gouge his eyes out with my fingernails, and my look must convey that sentiment because Jackson chuckles, his eyes sparking with mischief as his gaze bounces between us.
“The king has spoken,” he says, standing. “Better not keep him waiting.” He holds out his arm for me, and Cam’s jaw instantly tightens.
I wonder if they’ve butted heads over a girl before, because Jackson sure seems to enjoy riling him up about me. I’m not one to pass up an opportunity to piss Cam off, so I loop my arm through Jackson’s, smiling up at him like he hung the moon, as he leads me to the lavish self-serve buffet.
“What does His Majesty like to eat?” I inquire, inspecting the rows of exquisitely prepared culinary delights. Our cafeteria would rival a Michelin-starred restaurant on any day.
“You can’t go wrong with meat,” he replies, and I immediately head to the vegetarian section.
Jackson smirks. “You just can’t help stirring shit.”
“What?” I toss him a faux innocent face. “If he had particular dietary requirements, he should’ve been more specific.” I place a sea kale entrée, artichoke mille-feuille dinner, and mixed exotic fruit dessert on his tray while Jackson’s mouth waters as he slides a steak on his own tray. I glance at the clock, taking my time as I drop ice cubes into a glass and add a bottle of water to Cam’s tray.
“Ready?” I cock my head at Jackson.
“Hells yeah. I’m not missing this.”
I smile sweetly as I approach Cam, carefully placing the tray down in front of him. “Your lunch, sir.” I curtsy, because I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.
“What the fuck is this?” Cam holds up a large kale leaf, scowling at it like it’s done him some personal injustice.
“Sea kale,” I supply.
“I’m not eating that.” He shoves the tray away.
“It’s high in fiber, proteins, and vitamins, and it’s a natural anti-inflammatory. Figure you could use it after your workout last night.”
“If I wanted dietary advice, I’d hire a fucking nutritionist. Get me a steak. Now.”
I glance over my shoulder, smothering my satisfied grin. “Oh dear. It’s too late. The buffet is closed.”
His nostrils flare, and I turn to leave as Rochelle whispers in his ear.
“Get the fuck back here,” he barks.
I want to flip him off so badly, but Jane’s troubled face comes into view, and I know I can’t risk it. The entire cafeteria is watching this play out, no one even pretending they’re not fixated on the drama unfolding before their eyes.
“I warned you. Cross me and there are consequences.” He repositions a smug Rochelle on his lap. “Kneel.” He points at the side of his chair. “Right there. With your head bowed, and you won’t speak or move a muscle until I tell you to.”
“Camden.” Sawyer’s tone holds a silent warning which Cam ignores.
“On your knees, bitch,” the whore says, practically bouncing on his lap.
&
nbsp; “Seriously? This is how you repay me for last night?”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” Rochelle asks, the superior expression wiped from her mouth.
“You seem to be under a misconception,” Cam says in a voice that is ice cold. “We’re not friends. Or allies. You serve a purpose.” He shrugs casually, but his shoulders are rigidly tense, and he’s not fooling me. “Don’t cooperate. See if I care. I won’t be the one paying the price.”
My fists ball up at my side and tears prick the back of my eyes.
This is going too far.
If I do this, I’ll lose all respect.
I already feel the weight of the shocked stares from the inner circle. Even knowing my guys will decimate the new elite when they return is cold comfort.
Cam pulls out his cell, his finger hovering over the pad. “Kneel.” His piercing eyes drill into mine, and I’m shocked at the depth of loathing I see there.
Why does he hate me so much?
I’ve done nothing to earn this level of hatred. “Now.” He moves his finger closer to the send button, and I sink to my knees. Shocked gasps and hushed whispers surround me on all sides as I bow my head, my cheeks hot with anger and humiliation.
Rochelle cackles, and I swear, there and then, that I will finish her like I should’ve done months ago. But I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. No more though. She enjoys sticking the knife in, and I won’t feel an ounce of guilt when I ruin her life.
“Good girl,” Cam says, petting my head like I’m a dog. Tears sting my eyes again, and I hate how vulnerable I feel.
“While you’re down there,” Jackson jokes, earning a round of laughter from the table, and I grind my teeth so hard I fear I’ll end up with lockjaw.
Footsteps approach. “Get up, Abby,” Jane demands, placing her hand on my shoulder. “You’ve no right to do this,” she snaps at the guys.
“C’mon, Abigail.” Chad extends his hand to help me up, but I shake my head.
“Just go.” I plead with my eyes. “This is how it has to be right now.” I send a silent message, and a muscle pops in his jaw as he acquiesces.
“No.” Jane crouches down to me. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll find a way around it.”
“Trust me,” I mouth. “I know what I’m doing.”
Her tormented gaze fixes on mine, and she stares intensely at me before nodding. Standing, she glares at Cam and Rochelle. “You will all pay for this.”
“I’m terrified,” Cam deadpans, picking at the food on his plate.
Lowering my head, I’m grateful I don’t have to watch them laughing at my humiliation. Jane and Chad refuse to leave, standing behind me, and their quiet support is the only thing that gets me through this. I’m forced to listen to the inconsequential chatter around the table as they eat lunch, and the longer I’m on my knees, the more I seethe. The more I plot their downfall.
Jackson stands up on his chair at one point, whistling until he’s claimed the attention of the cafeteria, inviting everyone to a party at his place tonight.
Sawyer doesn’t utter a word during the whole ordeal, and he finishes his lunch superfast, leaving without saying goodbye. I only know he’s gone because his chair protests loudly when he slams it back, and his footsteps are loud as he stalks away.
Gradually, the cafeteria clears out. “You make a great slave,” Cam condescends, patting my head again. “Class is about to start. Get up.”
Rochelle snickers as I rise, and Jane hisses at her. Pain slices across my chest, like a million tiny knives stabbing me all at once, but it only strengthens my resolve and my determination to act with dignity. “Laugh now because you won’t be laughing for long,” I threaten, sending daggers at her.
I’m trembling with rage, my fists clenched so tight the skin blanches white and my jaw hard and unyielding. I’ll destroy her because I’m sure she’s the one who suggested he do this. Her face pales, and she looks to Cam for assurance, but he locks his eyes on mine like always. My lips tug up at the corners. “Don’t look to him. He won’t and can’t help you. You’ve dug your own grave, and I doubt anyone will mourn your loss.”
With Jane and Chad by my side, I stalk out of the cafeteria with my head held high, refusing to give them any more victories today.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My father is a no-show at the ballet, and I’m genuinely shocked. He’s never missed one of my performances, and I can only surmise that whatever is going on at Parkhurst is serious enough to merit staying longer than intended.
But I forget all about him as the show continues, letting everything from today go as I immerse myself in the music and the flow of my body as I dance my heart out. I barely even register the audience. My mind has gone to that magical place, and I’m Odette, pirouetting and spinning, dancing with elegance and poise, as I command the stage.
I’m full of pent-up emotion, and I let it fuel me, channeling a whole host of feelings as I glide effortlessly across the stage. I feel everything intensely. Odette’s joy and suffering, her passion and grief, her hope and despair. As Liam—playing the part of the prince—shields me from the evil sorcerer, I wonder who will protect me from the guy who’s manipulated and bewitched me.
When I return to the dressing room after our second curtain call, I’m exhausted but feeling lighter too. A smile plays across my lips as I blow an imaginary kiss toward the heavens, silently thanking my beautiful mom for introducing me to dance.
It has been my savior on so many levels, and I needed it tonight.
The smile drops off my mouth when I discover the large bouquet of roses waiting for me with an accompanying apology note from my father. But I know they’re just for show. He doesn’t really care he let me down. He only cares about public perception.
But I’m not my father’s daughter. I couldn’t give two shits what the public thinks of me, and I only pretend I do to keep up the charade long enough to plot my escape. However, my patience is at an all-time low today, so I take great pleasure in tossing the note and the flowers into the trash in front of my fellow dancers.
I drove myself here tonight, and I dismissed Oscar after the performance ended. He came with his wife and their two daughters, and I posed for pictures with them backstage.
He wanted to wait to escort me home, as he was technically on duty, and he’s nervous after being ambushed the other night. He thinks it was a random guy who knocked him unconscious for a few hours, and I didn’t correct him. Despite his vocal protests, I insisted he leave with his family. When that didn’t work, I resorted to my usual blackmail, and he left the theater with a face like thunder.
Being followed by bodyguards all the time is exhausting, and today, more than any other day, I need to be alone.
Jane and her family came too, and she tried to convince me to sleep over at her place, but I just want to go home, get into my pajamas, eat my body weight in Belgian chocolate ice cream, and watch The Godfather movies for the hundredth time in bed.
I’m looking forward to all the violence and murder, and I’ll be imagining Camden Marshall’s face in place of every victim I see on the screen.
I say goodbye to the other dancers, making my way out to the parking lot alone. I click my key fob, and the lights flash on my Impress FX17, highlighting the figure cloaked in dark clothes loitering at the side of my car. My heart rate instantly spikes, and I reach into my purse for the pepper spray I always keep there when the stranger steps under the light.
A growl builds at the base of my throat as I close the distance between us. “I’ve had enough of you for one day,” I bark, putting my face up in his, barely containing my rage. “Get lost, Cam.”
“I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that,” he coolly replies.
I deliberately don’t reply, glaring at him, imagining all the different ways I could torture him.
He pulls the hood down off his head, stepping into me. His chest brushes against mine, and his eyes glimmer with challenge, fl
ooding my body with a mix of raw desire and naked anger. Trent’s words about hate sex pop into my mind, and while I’m loath to agree with anything my douchebag fiancé has to say, at this moment, I’d love nothing better than to slap, punch, and kick Camden Marshall’s perfect face until he bleeds and then take his cock for the ride of a lifetime.
I step away from him the instant that thought lands in my mind, horrified that he infuriates and arouses me at the same time.
He closes the gap between us immediately, running the tip of his finger across my exposed collarbone, eliciting a rake of fiery tingles that makes my toes curl. “The more you fight me, the more I enjoy this,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to my ear. “So, keep fighting me, sweetheart. Nothing turns me on more.”
“Fuck you, Cam.” I shove him away, stalking to my car and climbing inside. The passenger door opens, and he slides inside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Coming with you. Unless you already know the way to Lauder’s place?” He examines the interiors like he’s considering purchasing one.
“No, and no. Get out.”
“Make me.” He slants me a sexy, lopsided grin, and it only infuriates me more.
Fishing my pepper spray out of my purse, I uncap the lid and aim it at his face. But he reacts fast, and before I know it, he has me pinned to my seat with his fingers curled around my hand, trying to pry the canister out of my grip while I attempt to press down on it.
We wrestle for several minutes—me trying to get it to explode in his face and him trying to get hold of it. Our bodies touch repeatedly, and heat pours off him in hypnotic waves, threatening my concentration. I only drop the spray when he digs his fingers into my still sore wrists, and I yelp in pain. Opening the window, he throws the cannister outside. I let a string of expletives loose as he straddles me with his powerful thighs, encasing my body on both sides. I fight him. Trying to push him back, but he’s an unmovable, solid block of muscle, and I emit a frustrated scream.
Cruel Intentions Page 13