by Sofia Daniel
With deliberate slowness, both for my comfort and for the satisfaction of seeing him squirm, I lowered myself down his shaft and rolled my hips. Edward stared back at me, eyes wide with disbelief. A tiny voice in the back of my head mused that he would make a similar face when he had discovered what I had done with those files, and I snatched my gaze away from his.
If I had a shred of decency left, I would stop and confess, but I rode him, gently at first, and when the pleasure built, and my body demanded more, I picked up my pace.
Edward panted, sweated, thrashed his head from side to side, but I rode up and down, reveling at his undoing. Then his hands gripped my hips, and he pistoned up into me, making me cry out. Dominating him was wonderful, but his participation doubled my pleasure.
“I-I’m not sure how long I can last,” he said from between clenched teeth.
I gripped his shoulders and ground my hips. “Kiss me.”
Edward rose, wrapped a hand around my neck and brought me down into the warmest kiss I’d ever received. The new angle rubbed against a spot that sent lightning bolts of pleasure rippling through my core. A high pitched noise escaped my lips, but Edward swallowed it in a kiss that turned my insides to mush and made my toes curl. He thrust over and over against that spot, and I rolled my hips, increasing the friction.
Ecstasy sparked and spread with each movement, and I cried out, “Edward!”
A haze of pleasure fogged his reply. He might have been telling me he was about to climax, but my world had condensed into Edward’s gorgeous shaft and the pleasure pulsing and rippling out from my quivering core.
I ground harder, increasing that sensation until pressure built behind my clit. The climax surged out, bursting through my torso, into my limbs, setting each nerve ending aflame. When it reached my neck, I threw my head back and screamed.
Edward stiffened, and with a howl, he convulsed underneath my thighs and collapsed back onto the Chesterfield. I followed him seconds afterward, then we lay tangled, staring into each other’s souls.
I nuzzled the side of his face. “When I first saw you on the staircase, I thought you had the potential to be the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”
“And now?”
“You’re heart-stopping.”
Edward grinned and rubbed the small of my back. “You say the most flattering things.”
“It’s true.”
“Seeing you for the first time was like a blow to the chest,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Those huge, gray eyes were unlike any I’d seen before. So intense. So beautiful. I feared that you could see into my heart and wrench it out of my chest.
“Is that why you kept your distance?” I asked.
He closed his eyes and turned his head away for a fraction. “I’d hardly describe the campaign we launched against you as distance, but I appreciate your understanding.” He paused. “Yes, bullying you was a way to keep you at a distance and save myself for when you inevitably left.”
I ran my fingers down the side of his face. An assurance that I would never leave him stuck in the back of my throat. My new life awaited me in New York, and I wouldn’t be able to stick around Mercia Academy when Edward worked out that I really had handed those papers to the Saturday Correspondent.
We lay on the sofa until our eyes closed, and we both fell asleep. By the time I awoke, the sun had already set. I disentangled myself from his limbs, sighing with the loss of contact. What a pity Edward had decided to bully me and recruit others to do the same. My first term at Mercia Academy could have been paradise with him and the boys, instead of being the seventh circle of hell.
I slipped on my skirt and loafers then crept out of the door, not once looking over my shoulder in case the sight of naked, sleeping Edward tempted me to stay.
The Uber drove through the campus and past the main teaching block, where the two different policemen bundled the handcuffed headmaster into the back of a car. Either Jackie had passed the files onto the National Crime Agency or the headmaster had done something to hurt Mr. Carbuncle. As far as I was concerned, both men had gotten what they deserved.
I stared out of the window at the darkening campus. It would be a pity I wouldn’t get to see it in spring, but staying here would be dangerous when someone traced the leaks back to me.
The taxi dropped me at the train station, and I wheeled my case full of casual clothes onto the platform. I had completed my mission, earned a trip back to New York, a place at Park Preparatory or any similar American institution, and Rudolph’s scholarship to an Ivy League college. And I had avenged myself on the biggest of the bullies. The articles on Charlotte’s brother had led to an investigation into how her father had been selling off assets to bail out his gambling son. It had also led to an exposé of his expenses fiddling, which would land him in prison and humiliate Charlotte.
Blake had disgraced himself with his treasonous comments, and the article was recycled and reintroduced to the press anytime someone mentioned his stepfather the prince in the papers. The exam-paper scandal of International House had upset Edward greatly, and he was about to become embroiled in a money laundering scandal. And Henry’s lies had been exposed to both the public and his parents. I doubt that they would ever trust him again.
So why wasn’t I happy?
I would miss the triumvirate, the treacherous wretches. Miss their banter, their kisses, and their caresses. I would even miss their anguished faces every time something got leaked to the press or to the Mercia-Net.
After boarding the train to London, I settled into my seat, pulled out my smartphone, and scrolled over to the email containing my e-ticket to New York. With a bit of careful finger work, I copied and pasted the booking code into the airline’s website. After pressing ‘send,’ I got the following error message.
Code Invalid.
I returned to the email and tried again.
Code Invalid.
I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. I called Jackie’s cell. She answered after one ring.
“Jackie? It’s Emilia. I just tried to check into my flight for New York. It says the ticket’s invalid. Could you buy me a flight and claim the cost back from Rudolph’s office?”
She was silent for several moment. “Actually, Rudolph is in London.”
Relief huffed out of my lungs. “He wants to see me before I go?”
“He came to oversee our expansion into a daily paper, and he wants you to continue supplying new material.”
My heart froze, and my blood turned to ice. This wasn’t our arrangement. The moment the Correspondent published Edward’s paperwork, he would know that the real leak wasn’t Carbuncle, but me.
“B-but I can’t go back,” I rasped.
“Sorry. His new plans involve you back in Mercia Academy, gathering information. Come down later today and speak to him if you like.” Jackie hung up.
My nostrils flared.
Rudolph had gone back on our agreement.
The wretched bastard had betrayed me.
And now, I would have to return to Mercia Academy and face all those I had betrayed.
END OF BOOK TWO
READ BOOK THREE
Deposed
Kings of Mercia Academy Book 3
Chapter 1
I clutched my smartphone with numb fingers, and stared at my invalid e-ticket to New York for so long, my vision blurred. The editor-in-chief of the Saturday Correspondent’s words echoed in my head and drowned out the roar of blood rushing through my eardrums.
The train sped over the tracks, creating a blur of green outside its huge windows, and making the lining of my stomach rumble with dread. It had taken tears, lies, and a whole lot of feminine wiles for Edward to believe that I hadn’t leaked the academy’s secrets to the Saturday Correspondent. And now, after I’d fulfilled my end of the bargain and given his paper some scandalous scoops, Rudolph wanted me to return.
To the wrath of Edward.
To the triumvi
rate.
And to Mercia Academy.
My throat spasmed, and my mind ran through everything I’d suffered during my first term. The gauntlet pushed itself to the front of my mind, as did the punches and kicks and hair-pulling. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the sting of the tampered shampoo.
If I returned to Mercia Academy, things would be much worse. I might not even make it out alive. Anger surged through my veins, making my limbs shake. Rudolph couldn’t do this to me. The information I had given the Correspondent had taken it from a loss-making operation to one that syndicated articles to much larger papers. Jackie had even told me they’d made enough to pay off their corporate debt. I had done enough, and he couldn’t demand any more.
The train pulled into an artificially lit platform in London, Victoria station. A muffled announcement sounded on the loudspeaker, and all the passengers bustled out toward the exit. I stared after them, still rooted to my seat. I had two choices. One, to return to Mercia Academy face the consequences when the article based on the file I took from Edward came out on Saturday. Or two, to storm Jackie’s meeting with Rudolph and demand that he fulfill his end of our bargain.
Rudolph owed me a ticket back home to Manhattan, a place at a school of my choosing, an ivy league education, and an internship. I’d given his paper the information they had needed to create scandalous articles. He wouldn’t get away with treating me like shit.
People boarded the train, indicating that it would soon head back south. I pulled myself out of my seat, grabbed my case, and eased my way through the stream of new passengers and out onto the platform. It was time to go to Fleet Street and confront Rudolph.
I passed the ticket barrier and walked through the busy station, avoiding near collisions with people running for their trains. The cacophony of traffic coming in from outside combined with announcements over multiple loudspeakers filled my ears and made my head pound. My phone vibrated. I stopped walking and pulled my smartphone out of my pocket.
A message from Edward flashed on the screen. Where are you?
Guilt surged up my gullet. Mere hours ago, I’d left him naked and sleeping in his study without so much as a goodbye. I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. Stuffed the guilt back down into my gut, and headed for the taxi rank.
Jackie usually ushered me into her room every time I visited the Saturday Correspondent. Today, she kept me waiting. I sat at the only free seat in the open-plan room, which was next to a bank of six desks set up with huge computer screens for interns to watch through the camera footage. Chocolate Easter egg wrapping littered the surfaces of their desks.
“Mr. Underwood’s daughter’s going to a local comprehensive school now,” whispered an Indian girl with a long braid she coiled into a thick bun.
“Charlotte?” Her colleague, a plump blonde, raised her head and grinned. “Why?”
“Her dad’s diverting all his funds to hiring a lawyer. He’s convinced he’ll go to jail for fiddling expenses.” She took a sip from her coffee mug. “What are you looking at?”
“Edward Mercia.”
My heart jumped into my throat, and I whirled around. Both interns fixed their gazes on the computer screens, and each wore headphones.
“Oh.” The blonde leaned back to stare at the Indian girl’s screen. “I saw him rush through the common room, looking agitated. What’s got his knickers in a twist?”
“He’s frantic about Emilia and has just told Blake Simpson-West that she’s moved out of her room.”
Regret spasmed through my insides. Keeping my head down, I twisted in my seat and turned my back on the interns in case they recognized me. I wasn’t in any kind of mood to discuss what I’d done to Edward with wide-eyed, young journalists. They continued discussing his sorry state until the sounds of their excited voices made my insides shrivel.
My spying probably caused Edward and the triumvirate more distress and public humiliation than they had originally caused me.
I pulled my attention away from the interns and back to Jackie’s door. What could be so important that she couldn’t spare a few minutes to see me? It felt like I’d been sitting here for at least an hour. My gaze flickered to the window, where a trio of red, double-decker buses headed toward St. Paul’s Cathedral. My smartphone buzzed again, and a pit of dread opened up in my stomach.
I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at the screen. It was Edward. Again. What kind of person leaves a place so suddenly and without a goodbye? A guilty one. You were the leak. Your actions are the only confession I need.
My lips tightened. It looked like he had barged his way through the room I shared with Rita and found that I had taken some of my things and gone.
“Mr. Trommel!” exclaimed a voice at the other end of the open-plan office.
My head snapped up. Rudolph strolled in, flanked by two female assistants. He wore a navy blue, pinstriped suit with a silver tie that matched his startling, gray eyes. As usual, his face was devoid of expression, jowls and excess skin hanging off his bones like used-up crepe paper.
My heart pounded to the beat of the fury thrumming in my veins. This was the man who had seen my disheveled state after that gauntlet and hadn’t given a damn. Now he wanted to send me back into the den of bullies and bastards and bitches. My nostrils flared. If he thought he could make me return to Mercia Academy, he was as addled as he looked.
“Rudolph?” I said.
He stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you at school?”
The interns at the nearby bank of desks all stopped watching their videos to gape. It was hard to tell if they were looking at Rudolph or kicking themselves that they hadn’t noticed me sitting so close.
I rose to my feet. “Term ends in a week, and I’ve finished my assignment. I was on my way to Heathrow Airport when the airline’s online check-in no longer recognized my e-ticket for New York as valid.”
“Because you’re staying in England and giving me more material for the Correspondent.” Without so much as a knock, Rudolph pushed open Jackie’s door and stepped inside.
I scrambled after him and clenched my teeth. “Rudolph—”
“Wait for your editor-in-chief.” He waved me away.
Jackie sat at her desk with a booted foot on its surface and her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. “No…” she rasped at the person on the other line. “I don’t care that you represent the Sunday Times and that you think my money laundering article should debut in your Educational Supplement.”
The other person replied with something that made her smirk. She tucked a lock of bleached-blonde hair behind her other ear. “It’s tempting, but how will you publish that article without mentioning all the other goings-on in International House? Your readers will want context.”
Seconds later, she interjected with, “No, way. If you want those articles, you’re paying for them separately.”
Another pause. Another smirk. A wink at Rudolph, who steepled his fingers like Mr. Burns, rocked back on his heels and beamed. Disgust curdled in my stomach. Jackie wouldn’t be able to demand money from the Sunday Times without my hard work. She knew it, and Rudolph knew it, too. That was why he had canceled my ticket to New York. He hadn’t finished milking his stepdaughter, the cash cow.
“Alright.” She coughed into her hand. “Take that number, double it, and I’ll let you run it before the Correspondent.”
The person at the other end of the phone must have said yes because Jackie’s lips spread into a smile that exposed her tobacco-stained teeth.
Rudolph lowered himself onto one of the chairs in front of her desk and beamed, giving her a hand signal to carry on.
I took the seat next to him and leaned in to whisper. “Does Mom know you’re using me as a spy?”
His jovial expression morphed, slow as a turtle emerging from its shell, into a grimace of irritation. “She also doesn’t know how her daughter obtained this information.” He shook his head. “And it would break her to think y
ou’d seduced three boys to get it.”
His words hit like a punch in the stomach. Mom had probably washed her hands of me by now. I’d sent her dozens of texts and emails and hadn’t gotten any response. These days, the only time I saw her was when she appeared at various charity events in the society pages.
I shook off those thoughts. There were cameras in Edward’s study and his room, and I’d been careful not to do anything within its line of sight. But nothing could be done about the sounds. Maybe the interns monitoring the footage worked things out and told Jackie, who told Rudolph.
I clenched my teeth. If this was his attempt at blackmailing me, it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t ashamed of anything I’d done with the boys… Apart from what Rudolph wanted me to do.
Jackie hung up. “We’re going to focus on Chaloner’s dirty dealings, and the Times will take the educational angle. It works out more lucrative that way.”
“Excellent.” Rudolph tapped his steepled fingers, giving Jackie a bizarre round of silent applause. “How will we follow up this great performance, ladies?”
“I’m not going back to Mercia Academy,” I said.
Jackie leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk. Her gaze flickered to Rudolph, who sat back in his seat and gave her a gentle nod. A frustrated breath huffed out of my nostrils. She’d kept me waiting because she didn’t want to make an unreasonable demand without my wretched stepfather as backup.
“We need you on the inside for one more term,” she said. “After what’s coming, they’ll be reconstructing their reputa—”
“No!” My hands curled into fists. I glowered at Rudolph, but he kept his gaze on Jackie, as though whatever I said next wouldn’t matter. “I agreed to provide stories on Edward Mercia, Henry Bourneville, Blake Simpson-West, and Charlotte Underwood. That was the deal. I delivered on that and more, now it’s time for you to uphold your end of the bargain.”