by Sofia Daniel
“Ummm…” I bit down on my lip. “Whatever happened with the investigation on your father?”
Sergei’s smile faded, and he shook his head. “Alexander deals with these matters.”
My gaze flicked to the smallest of the bodyguards, a dark-haired man in his early thirties with hair closely cropped to his scalp. “Sorry for bringing up the subject.”
Andreo topped up my coffee from a silver pot, lips quirking into a smile. “Sergei has a concert tonight. Will you accompany us as his beard?”
“Sure,” I said with a relieved breath. This would be the last time I’d bring up the subject of his father’s poisoning.
I spent the next few weeks attending events on Sergei’s arm and appearing in the society pages as his devoted fiancée. Mom didn’t text for details, but Dad kept pestering me with questions until I explained that Sergei was just a friend who wanted to drum up a bit of publicity. The pictures, unfortunately, attached the attention of Edward.
Will you return to Mercia Academy next term?
I stared at the phone and gulped. If he had demanded a meeting in London, I would have agreed, but returning to his territory and to all the people affected by the Correspondent articles would be suicide. I tapped the icon for my banking app. My allowance would arrive in a few days, and it would give me enough for a flight back to New York.
A few days before term started, Sergei took me out in the limo to the Claridge’s Hotel for breakfast. It was a late Georgian building constructed of red bricks that had probably been built around the same time as the Bourneville’s department store. Its grand entrance of white pillars and floor-to-ceiling, art deco windows made me draw in the same awed breath as I had the day the boys had taken me shopping for a ballgown.
As I stepped out of the limo to the crowds of paparazzi, I forced a smile and tried not to think of Henry. I took comfort in Sergei’s large hand on the small of my back and walked through the entrance and into the black-and-white tiled foyer.
The dining room was a huge, magnolia-colored space of smartly-dressed tables, decorated with white roses that matched both the table cloths and the pillars. Hanging from the ceiling was an ornate chandelier of flower-bud shapes and glass spirals that looked more like a sculpture than a source of light. Sergei had booked a table by an arched window, behind which photographers gathered to take pictures of us.
Sergei reached across the table and took my hand in his. “A promoter has offered me a three-month tour of Europe. We leave in two days. Will you come with us?”
I chewed my lip and gazed into his earnest, aquamarine eyes. The thought of visiting places like Paris, Vienna, and Rome made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t put my life on hold for a fake relationship. “I’m sorry, Sergei. I have my studies.”
“I will have to hand back the keys to the owner of the apartment,” he said. “Will you return to the United States or stay in London?”
The waiter arrived with our orders, and Sergei let go of my hand. My gaze dropped to my plate of eggs Benedict. My plan had been to stay in his apartment until Mom sent my allowance, but it hadn’t materialized, and everyone I messaged had said they couldn’t reach her regular phone. Rudolph must have somehow convinced her not to send me any money. I couldn’t ask Sergei to buy my ticket. He’d done enough for me, and even if I reached the States, there might not even be a room for me at Rudolph’s mansion.
“I’m…” I cleared my throat. “I’m returning to Mercia Academy.”
“Are you sure?” He placed a hand on my wrist.
I nodded. “Term starts tomorrow. I’d better go.”
Sergei nodded. “Is money your problem? I can—”
“No.” A nervous laugh warbled in the back of my throat. Sergei believed the triumvirate thought I was disposable. Admitting that my mother and stepfather also acted like I wasn’t worth the expense of pocket money was too much to bear. “I have to face the boys one day. It may as well be now.”
He stared at me for a long time, his eyes boring into my soul. Eventually, he sighed. “This would be a good time to stage our break-up.”
“Um…” I drew my brows together, trying to work out what he meant. Then my attention dropped to the fake diamond on my finger. I slipped it off to a flurry of camera flashes, and handed it to Sergei, who hung his head. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little too much?”
“I want to look devastated,” he muttered. “Like it will take years to mend my broken heart.”
I bit down hard on my lip. If the cameras caught me smiling at his sad display, the press would write me up like some kind of villain.
Later that evening, I sent Edward a text. I’ll be there on Monday.
His reply was instant. Take the 9:45 from Victoria. I’ll reserve you a seat.
On Monday, Sergei escorted me to Victoria station, this time without the press fanfare. We walked in silence through the busy concourse amidst the cacophony of busy travelers and loudspeaker announcements. The mingled scents from the stores and restaurants made my stomach churn, and I tried not to think of what would await me when I finally arrived at Mercia Academy. We stopped at the platform’s ticket barrier, then he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed both cheeks. “If you change your mind, send me a text.”
I smiled and stared up into his sad eyes. Apart from Rita, he was the best friend I had made so far in England. “Thanks.”
“You are always welcome in my entourage.” He whispered the next part into my ear. “And not just as a beard.”
I laughed and threw my arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you. Thanks again for everything.”
The warm glow Sergei left as I boarded dimmed into a flicker the moment the train departed the station. I was doing something I promised Rita I wouldn’t do: returning to Mercia Academy. This time, I wouldn’t be shunned or ignored by the triumvirate. They would rip me apart and leave what was left of me for the other students to pick through.
My phone buzzed. Are you on the train?
Yes.
This had better not be another of your lies.
I stuffed the phone back into my pocket and snarled. Edward was a fine one to call someone a liar.
The train whizzed by countryside, which became greener the closer we got to my destination. My pulse pounded in my eardrums, drowning out the chugging of the wheels on the tracks.
Images of potential scenarios whirled around my mind like a kaleidoscope. Most of them involved ways the students would exact their retribution for leaking stories to the newspapers. Only one of them was a scene where Edward forgave me and repeated his declaration of love. I shook away the false hope and buried my head in my hands until the announcer called out Mercia.
Taking the first step off the train was agony. Palpitations reverberated throughout my body as I made my way out of the station and inhaled warm, fresh country air. Before I could take in the sights of the quaint village of stone-fronted stores, a limo rolled into view, and the back door opened.
My stomach dropped. This could only mean one thing. The triumvirate were in session and ready to exact their vengeance. Nobody stepped out to bundle me inside. I guessed they wanted me to walk to my own gallows.
On feet that felt like lead, I dragged myself to the curb, and stepped inside to meet Edward’s wintry glare. The impact was like a kick in the gut, and my breath caught in the back of my throat. I hadn’t seen him this livid since the time he upended the table at me.
“I’m…” I cleared my sandpapery throat. “I came as promised.”
“Get inside,” he said through clenched teeth.
I stepped into the limo and took the seat nearest to the door and furthest away from Edward, who sat upright, breathing loud and deep and fast. The seatbelt around me felt like a leash, but I stared straight ahead, trying not to look at Edward. But in the corner of my vision, he resembled an eagle about to strike.
The driver sped down through the village thoroughfare, but instead of turning left into the road that
led to the academy, he went straight ahead.
My gaze slid to Edward’s clenched fists. “Where are we going?”
“I need time with you alone to prepare you for what’s to follow,” he replied.
A shiver of apprehension ran down my back, and I pictured a gauntlet, but this time, the students carried hockey sticks. My tongue darted out to lick my lips. “What should I expect?”
“The police wouldn’t accept any of the documentation we offered them to prove Father’s condition, so he remained in a cell for weeks, while their doctors reassessed him. He was released last week on the grounds of diminished responsibility.”
A breath of relief slid from my lungs. “I’m gla—”
“Now the entire country knows of his ailment, and vultures are circling us in the guise of well-wishers, hoping to take advantage of his vulnerable state.”
Guilt knitted my stomach into knots that stretched up to my gullet. “I’m so—”
“The Board of Governors convened to discuss the future of the academy,” he said in a louder voice. “One of the topics of conversation was whether it was worth continuing with a school whose reputation was so tarnished.”
I cringed. Even though I hadn’t been the one to hand out exam papers to the students of International House, I had passed evidence of the academy’s cheating to the Saturday Correspondent. I glanced up at Edward’s eyes, but at the weight of his stare, my gaze snapped down to my lap.
“You took matters too far,” he said, his voice tight.
My throat flexed. “I realize that now.”
“Why?”
A burst of fury seared through all traces of guilt, and my head snapped up. “After you took me back, none of you wanted to clear my name for the kidnapping. I don’t care that juvenile records get expunged. You set me up for something that could have gotten me imprisoned for years and didn’t have the decency to set things right.”
His brows drew together. Before he could speak, I blurted, “Sex doesn’t count, otherwise you wouldn’t be so hurt about what I did to you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” He sniffed.
“Do you need more reasons? Nearly blinding me with doctored shampoo, getting me kicked repeatedly by Charlotte Underwood, leaving me in a field in the middle of the night, two counts of false imprisonment… Do I need to continue?”
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “But I told you why I did what I did.”
A frustrated breath huffed out of my nostrils. “I get it. Hurting and controlling others made you feel better about your shitty life, but people fight back, and you shouldn’t complain when it hurts.”
“Why did you return?” he growled.
I’d be damned if I told him I had nowhere else to go. “Because you asked. Repeatedly.”
His cold gaze flickered up and down my body then lingered on my breasts. “Blake and Henry are waiting for you in my study. If you think I’m angry, wait until you see them.”
Chapter 4
We remained silent for the rest of the journey. There wasn’t much point in discussing why Henry and Blake were angry. Edward had told them I had either leaked information to the press or had been involved in the coercion of Mr. Frost and Mr. Carbuncle, the two people known to have collaborated with the Saturday Correspondent.
The limo stopped at the front of Elder House, its gardens a deceptively peaceful display of pink and white blossoms. Bile rose to the back of my throat as my mind dredged up what would wait for me inside. Another gauntlet, a baying mob, or a group of everyone who had been hurt by the articles in the Saturday Correspondent.
The driver opened the door, and my heart thudded. I stole a glance at Edward, who wouldn’t look at me, and I prayed to whoever was listening that things wouldn’t get out of control.
Edward stepped out first and turned to offer his hand. It was as though he knew I would need help walking. I stared into eyes that bored into mine with such intensity, I forgot about impending punishments and became locked in his gaze. They were a storm of clouds reflecting on the surface of the ocean, threatening to drown me in their depths. But he blinked and broke the illusion.
“Come,” he said, in a voice so resonant, so commanding, I placed my clammy hand in his.
The touch sent tiny tremors running down every bone in my body. Edward stared down at my hand and creased his brows. The expression was so fleeting, it might have come from my fevered imagination. He helped me out of the limo, and we walked hand-in-hand across the gravel courtyard. Stones crunched underfoot, the sound making my insides writhe with discomfort.
If I endured the ordeal waiting for me beyond the doors, would the boys forgive me, or would they resume the campaign of bullying they had started in my first term?
We stepped through the double doors, through the reception hall beyond, where students bustled through the hallways and up and down the stairs, oblivious to our presence. My breathing shallowed, and I blinked several times.
“What’s happening?” I whispered.
Edward glared at me through the corner of his eye. “If you were expecting a welcoming party, then you think less of me than I’d originally feared.”
His words stung as hard as a slap. Edward was acting as though the triumvirate hadn’t brought any of the public humiliation they’d suffered onto themselves. I stopped walking and placed my hands on my hips. “Perhaps if you three had explained your actions, I might not have taken things too far.”
“What?” Edward turned around, fixing me with a dark stare.
I clenched my fists and glowered straight into his eyes. Students in the hallways rushed past, too busy with beginning of term greetings to notice us. Still, I kept my voice to a low hiss. “You were too busy protecting your precious Mr. Frost. I had to learn that he framed me from the Correspondent, and by then, I’d already set everything in motion.”
Edward didn’t reply, but his eyes softened. Perhaps he was beginning to see the situation from my point of view.
The anger roiling in my gut cooled and faded into the background. Without meaning to, I stepped closer to him and said, “I shouldn’t have taken things so far, but can you blame me?”
His face tightened, and he continued down the hallway, leaving me trailing behind, staring at his broad back. I swallowed. Edward seemed conflicted about me. He’d had the entire Easter break with Henry and Blake to work himself into a frenzy about how I’d unjustifiably betrayed the triumvirate, but it had taken a few words for his resolve to waver.
I sucked in a deep breath and wrapped my arms around my middle. Was it too optimistic to expect the other members of the triumvirate to listen to reason?
Edward paused at the door of his study and gave me the tightest of smiles. “Let’s wait until the others are present before making excuses, shall we?”
My stomach hardened with dread. So much for my wishful thinking.
He turned the handle and opened the door to his study, revealing an interior darkened by drawn curtains. Leather and coffee and firewood mingled to provide a familiar scent that reminded me of happier times I’d spent in this room. The flames crackling in the fireplace provided illumination, bolstered by two Anglepoise lamps shining on Edward’s leather desk. Blake and Henry sat in separate, leather armchairs, each staring up at me with accusing eyes.
Henry was the first to stand. The light of the fire lit the ends of his blond hair, making them appear incandescent. One side of his face was cast in shadow. He stared down at me with the same look he had given me in the early days, like he wanted to dissect me and discover what was inside. Perhaps he did. This was the first time I’d seen him since Mr. Frost’s story about the kidnapping had come out.
I lifted my head and tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on a spot on my cheek. My heart sank. I had expected shouting. Recriminations, so I could spit out my side of the story and justify my actions, but he remained silent.
Blake pushed himself off his armchair and stood at Henry’s left. The ends of hi
s black hair merged with the shadows in the room, making each feature stand out. Dim light exaggerated cheekbones that could slice me in half and a cruel, and showcased a downward slant to his full lips. Once again, my gaze flickered up to meet his eyes, but met expressionless pools of black.
The silence stretched on, each passing moment wringing my guts. From his position by the door, Edward walked around me and stood at Henry’s right in the exact formation I’d seen them when we had first met in the first term, on the stairs of the main teaching block. I swallowed hard. “W-what do you want from me?”
“We know why you did it,” replied Blake, his voice curling around my senses like smoke. His dark eyes hardened. “But you should understand that no slight against us goes unpunished.”
My heart rate doubled, and I gasped out a breath of disbelief. “But we’re even. Can’t you see that?”
Edward chuckled, a rich, deep sound that promised vengeance. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Why did you come back after what you and your stepfather did?”
I stepped back. “Y-you sent me texts…”
He advanced on me, filling my vision with his cruel, handsome face. “Then I commend you for your obedience.”
My gaze flickered to Henry’s face. His nostrils had flared, the skin around his green eyes tightened with pain. My throat flexed. He was staring at me as though I had stabbed him in the gut.
I could understand Edward and Blake’s animosity. I’d directly encouraged them to incriminate themselves. It was my manipulative words that had goaded Blake into talking treason about the Prince of Wales in front of the cameras, and my manipulation of Edward’s worries that had led him to answer leading questions about International House in front of the cameras. I’d even tricked Edward into handing over vital evidence that had gotten the headmaster and his father arrested.
But I hadn’t done anything to Henry. I hadn’t coerced Mr. Frost into making a full confession about helping the triumvirate to extort half a million pounds from the Bourneville family by kidnapping Henry.