by Sofia Daniel
“And you had sex with him in that room?” asked Aunt Idette.
Henry’s mother pursed her lips, but his father leaned forward.
I gave my head a vigorous shake. “It was filthy!”
Mr. Bourneville narrowed his eyes. “A more relevant question to ask is why the girl who had faced charges for child abduction, that carries a sentence of ten or more, would give Henry another chance.”
My mouth opened, but the lie Henry and I had practiced disappeared from the forefront of my mind.
“Unless you’re plotting something.” Mrs. Bourneville drummed her French-manicured fingers on the table.
I froze. Last term, her words would have been the truth, but I’d already taken my revenge on Henry and the others. Now, I just wanted the boys to stop bearing a grudge.
My tongue darted out to lick my lips. “I returned to Mercia Academy expecting to hate Henry, but I couldn’t. That time we spend together as prisoners opened my heart to him, and I saw a side of his personality that only his friends see. It’s kind and loving and gentle.”
“What do you think of his business between him and Blake?” asked Mr. Bourneville.
“Just boys drinking too much absinthe and having fun,” I replied. “I was also in the room with them, and it wasn’t a big deal.”
The staff took away the first course and brought grilled salmon served with garlic-roasted broccoli, sautéed green beans, and roasted fingerling potatoes. We ate in silence, and I shared a glance with Henry, who gave me a grateful smile.
As soon as the staff took away that course, Aunt Idette’s head snapped up. “Why did you forgive him?”
“I didn’t at first. But it’s hard to explain what happened when I thought we’d been kidnapped. For those nine days and the time after that, I’d never in my life felt closer to anyone.” Saying these words made my heart hurt, because they were true. And the worst part was having to admit them in front of Henry. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire time we were separated.”
“Yet you got engaged to that classical pianist,” said Mrs. Bourneville.
“I thought Sergei could mend my broken heart.” I lowered my gaze to my plate, wondering whether Henry’s mother was addicted to the society columns. “But it turned out that no one could compare to Henry.”
Henry leaned toward me and gave me a kiss on the temple. I raised my head and gazed into his verdant, green eyes. For a moment, everything stilled, and I was no longer aware of the dining room or his family. It was just Henry and me, just like it had been our last two days of supposed captivity.
“What a sweet girl.” Aunt Idette’s sarcasm snapped me out of my Henry-induced stupor.
He smiled. “Not as sweet as you’d think. She made me grovel for a long time.”
I tilted my head to the side and smirked. “I intend to make you suffer until I’m satisfied you’re truly repentant.”
Mr. Bourneville roared with laughter. “Good girl!”
I glanced up and met Mrs. Bourneville’s gaze. She gave me her first genuine smile for the day.
My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t completely convinced them, but at least they no longer thought I was an outright liar.
After lunch, we walked back through the maze of hallways holding hands. His family seemed the type who would watch us through the security cameras, so I took the opportunity to bask in his presence. Being with Henry today had been so perfect, and the warmth of his affection couldn’t melt the shard of ice still lodged in my heart from his betrayal. The last door clicked shut, and the limo rolled forward from the shadows. Henry opened the door and let me in.
As soon as we settled into the plush, leather seat Henry scooted close, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the side of my mouth. “You were wonderful! I didn’t know you felt so deeply for me.”
“Maybe once.” I elbowed him hard in the stomach. “But now, you can go to hell.”
Chapter 9
Henry recoiled from the elbow in the gut, and his face slackened into an expression of wide-eyed shock. His broad shoulders drooped, and he seemed to crumple into the leather seat of the limousine. I met his hurt, green eyes with a defiant glare, but he still had the nerve to choke out the words, “What was that for?”
I pushed back the tiny twist of guilt in my belly and snapped, “Didn’t you hear a word of what I said to your parents?”
The limousine pulled away and made its slow ascent through the darkened, underground parking lot. The external lights occasionally illuminated the side of his face, exaggerating his wounded expression.
“I…” Henry drew his brows together as though trying to work out the trick in my question. “You said you’d fallen for me in the squat. Was that a lie?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“From the moment I opened my eyes, you knew it wasn’t a real kidnapping, but you played along. You watched them inject me with goodness-knows-what, let us sleep on a filthy mattress, and let me wallow in fear and paranoia for nine days.”
His shoulders drew up to his ears, and he dipped his head. “We needed the money to help Edward’s father.”
“I know that now, but why did I have to suffer so much? Why did you let them inject me a second time?”
The limo reached the ground floor and drove out of the low exit into the store-lined street. I kept my gaze on Henry and away from the people outside, bustling from store to store.
He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Paul… Mr. Frost said I had to keep everything as authentic as possible, so you wouldn’t guess it had all been a setup.”
“And you went along with his plan?”
Henry straightened and raised his blond brows in a look so incredulous, I wondered if I had said something wrong. Eventually, he said, “If I’d told you the truth, you might have gone to the police anyway as revenge for all those pranks the others played.”
I snatched my gaze away and stared out of the window. He had a point, but I wasn’t going to admit it. The limo rounded Piccadilly Circus. First, we passed the kind of giant, neon signs found in places like Times Square, then moments later, we had a magnificent view of a winged statue with beautiful Georgian buildings in the background. “Is that Eros?”
“It’s his brother, Anteros. Some say he’s the avenger of unrequited love,” Henry replied with a bite to his voice.
The implication hit me in the gut. He thought my shitty attitude was getting in the way of what he wanted. My nostrils flared, and I glared at him through the corner of my eye. “What would he say about love formed under false pretenses?” Before he could speak, I added, “Where were you that time you went missing for a whole day and returned smelling of marijuana?”
He turned away, and adrenaline surged through my veins. If I had to guess, Henry had been relaxing with the kidnappers over takeout and a joint. Probably taking the time to call Edward and Blake to form part two of their plan to buy my silence with affection. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Mr. Frost had come down to work out the finer details of how to frame me if everything went wrong.
“I don’t know how to make a convincing enough apology to you,” he said in a broken voice. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve been disinherited and pictures of Blake and me are floating about the internet?”
All the anger drained out of me, replaced by emptiness. Perhaps it was time to let go of past hurts.
We returned to Elder House in time for the end of dinner. Charlotte toured the dining room like a circling vulture, swooping down on tables to have whispered conversations with each member of the rugby team.
“Why are they all so fond of her?” I asked Henry.
“We called her Butter Face behind her back,” he said. “Nice tits, but her face was lacking. I can’t think of a reason they’d follow her unless she’s offering blow jobs.”
I shot him a glare, but he shrugged. “When we returned from our… absence, they were still talking about Blake’s video.”
I sho
ok my head, got out of my seat and walked toward Duncan’s table. The scrawny boy would have an idea of what was really happening. Not even Charlotte would offer to blow the entire rugby team. Double standards meant that actions like that invariably backfired on the girl, and some of the players, like Coates and his cauliflower ears, were gross. Duncan sat alone, picking at his rhubarb crumble and custard while leafing through his pile of newspapers.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked.
Duncan’s gaze flicked up over his thick glasses, and his lips quirked with distaste. Probably because I’d gotten Miss Oakley to confiscate his smartphone containing stills from Henry and Blake’s sex tape. “Oh, it’s you.”
That hadn’t been a no, so I slipped into the seat next to him. “Why did Alice go back to that group?”
“Changes are taking place within Elder House.” Duncan flipped open his copy of The Mail on Sunday and leafed through the tabloid’s pages. “Think of it as a paradigm shift. Old gods have fallen and new ones are taking their place. Just as you sat with those tossers last term for protection, Alice has joined Charlotte’s team to avoid becoming the victim of the upcoming bloodbath.”
I glanced up at Charlotte, who wrapped her arms around one of Coates’ battered-looking rugby friends. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t say, but it’s revolutionary.”
My eyes narrowed. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t. The destabilization has been good for me. I finally have cool friends instead of being an outcast.”
I glanced around his empty table. If this was his definition of having friends, there wasn’t much point in continuing the conversation. “Thanks. I won’t trouble you any longer.”
As I walked back to the triumvirate through the maze of dining tables, tremors of dread shook the lining of my stomach. No matter what I thought of Charlotte, she was resourceful. That painful and humiliating walk through the gauntlet had been of her design, and she’d even whored herself to Mr. Carbuncle to make it happen. If she was planning a move against me, I had to be extra vigilant.
I reached the table and retook my seat, reporting back that Duncan hadn’t said anything useful except for vague hints of Charlotte’s plans. A server slid a bowl of rhubarb crumble with cream at my place setting, and I stared into my pudding. If anyone would know what Charlotte had been saying to her supporters, it would be the people at the Saturday Correspondent. Perhaps it was time to power up the burner phone I used to communicate with Jackie.
The next day, our new Latin Master noticed I wasn’t doing any of the work. When I explained that I didn’t know anything about the language, he sent me out of the class. Taking advantage of the time away from the triumvirate, I rushed to my room, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and called Jackie on the burner phone.
“Emilia!” she rasped. “Have you decided to work with us?”
“It’s just a tip off. Charlotte Underwood is up to something nefarious. Did your interns notice her making any plans?”
After a muffled sound of coughing and hacking, Jackie replied. “We’ve been watching her. So far, she’s been promising people tickets to a party to rival the Valentine’s Day Massacre.”
My shoulders drooped. “Is that all?”
“I need you to find out the name of her benefactor,” said Jackie. “Someone’s paid over thirty-five thousand pounds to get her back into the academy and financed all the work she’s had done on her face.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“What?” replied Jackie.
“I told Rudolph I wouldn’t give him any stories and I meant it. But this thing with Charlotte is personal. If something falls on my lap, I’ll pass it on, but I won’t go to any efforts after Rudolph reneged on our deal.”
Jackie let out a long sigh. “He won’t be happy.”
I hung up and shook my head. Did Jackie and Rudolph really think I would go sneaking about on their behalf after his colossal betrayal? If they did, they were as crazy as they were corrupt. The lunch bell rang, and I turned off the burner phone, straightened myself up in the mirror, and headed downstairs.
As soon as I reached the dining room, I found Blake in one of the middle tables, glaring into a letter penned in calligraphy script. It was the kind of quality writing paper used in high-class correspondence, but from his expression, it wasn’t good news. A shiver of apprehension skittered down my spine. The last time one of the triumvirate received a nasty letter, it had been from the supposed kidnappers. My attempts to help Henry hadn’t ended well for any of us.
A hand landed on the small of my back, and Edward’s cedar and cypress scent filled my nostrils. “Is everything alright?”
I nodded at Blake. “Something’s bothering him.”
Edward guided me to what had become the triumvirate’s new table. “Let’s find out.”
“Anything wrong?” Edward pulled out my chair and gave me a warm smile.
Henry strolled in and took the seat opposite mine.
Up at the new head table, Charlotte glowered down at us. Coates sat at her left and murmured something into her ear, but she didn’t react. Most likely because she was still preoccupied with ensnaring Henry. I raised my chin and gave her a triumphant smile. All the machinations in the world couldn’t get her what she wanted.
Blake sighed and slipped the letter into his pocket. “Mother has told the press I’ll be at Narcotics Anonymous in Kensington Town Hall.”
Henry shook his head and reached for the crystal water jug. “Why wouldn’t you go to one nearer to the academy?”
“You’re missing the point,” Blake snapped. “Why should I go to one at all?”
He gave Blake’s shoulder a squeeze. “At least you’ll have company.”
Blake’s gaze flicked to me, and his lips pursed. “Right.”
Bristling, I snatched a bread roll from the middle of the table. “If you think it’s a huge imposition for me to come along, I’ll stay in the academy. It’s not like I wanted to be part of your path to redemption.”
“Emilia will be at your side,” said Edward.
I curled my lip. “Since when were you my social secretary?”
“Since we own you,” said Henry. “Be quiet and finish your lunch.”
I flashed my eyes at Henry and stabbed my bread roll. He hadn’t been this ballsy yesterday in the back of the limo. Perhaps this was his form of petty revenge for my rejection of his affections. Imagining the roll was his testicle, I tore off a piece with my teeth. Sometimes, he could be such an asshole.
On Sunday morning, I met Blake at the entrance hall. Only the smallest of flames burned in the fireplace because of the warmer weather. Blake stood at the pigeon holes and examined its contents. He wore a navy blazer with stone-colored pants in a fabric that looked like a blend of linen and silk. Only one of the gold buttons of his blazer was fastened, giving him an air of smart-casual chic. I pursed my lips. With his glossy, black hair curving around his high cheekbones, he looked utterly irresistible.
“Are you ready?” I tried to keep the belligerence out of my voice. It was my fault he had to go to Narcotics Anonymous.
“One moment.” Blake stuffed a letter in his pocket and placed the other items back into the pigeonhole.
I glanced at the bank of cabinets on the left of the room. Each person’s mailboxes were arranged in alphabetical order, so what was Blake, whose last name began with S, doing so close to the end? I was about to ask when he raised his hand. “If you’re curious, we can talk later.”
Outside, the sun shone out of a cloudy sky, casting the campus in soft light. Pink blossoms covered the magnolia trees leading to the main teaching block, and a slight breeze carried their sweet scent. A limousine pulled up in the driveway by the steps of the house. Blake swept past me and opened the door.
He sat in the car and stuck his nose in the air, looking like he was striking a pose for the camera. “If you think we are friends after what you did, you can think again.”
The words lan
ded like a slap, and I reared back. Blake had never expressed this level of vitriol in front of Henry and Edward. Tightening the muscles of my stomach, I raised my chin and sat straighter in the leather seat. “I was done with you months ago, when I realized we never had a friendship.”
The limo pulled out from the courtyard, its wheels rumbling over the gravel driveway. I fastened my seatbelt and folded my arms across my chest.
Blake’s haughty expression fell. “If I meant nothing to you, why did you bother to come back?”
I huffed an exasperated breath. He was always the first to flirt and to instigate sexual contact. And now, after declaring he wasn’t interested in me, he became upset when I didn’t fall to his knees and beg to be his friend. The boy was giving me whiplash.
“You’re making me regret my choice,” I muttered.
After clearing the campus, the limo sped down the long driveway that led to the front gates and then through the fields that led to the village. We sat in silence, each staring out of our respective windows, when Blake twisted in his seat and whirled on me. “Why did you do it?”
“Did I poke you in the ribs and ask you to stand in front of the common room and boast about becoming a prince?” My stomach churned at the lie, as I had all but goaded him into proving his worth.
“Who recorded it?” he snapped.
“You would have noticed me if I had a camera. Maybe one of the many people watching you that evening. How about the types always ready to shoot videos of people making fools of themselves to upload the footage to the Mercia-Net?”
“I find that hard to believe.” He turned to stare at the stone-fronted buildings of the village.
“Blake,” I snapped. “You’re the last person who should complain about being filmed doing something incriminating.”
“What?” Annoyance etched his handsome features, and one knee bounced up and down.
I rolled my eyes. Even though I wasn’t being completely truthful, his stupidity grated on my last nerve. “Look at what you did to Charlotte. She trusted you, and not only did you trick her into sucking you off, but you recorded it and then played it to everyone and made it look like I’d done it. And you wonder why someone wanted to give you a taste of what it’s like to have one’s vulnerable moments broadcasted?”