by Sofia Daniel
“What did you say?” said Henry.
She paused as though she hadn’t revealed something heinous. “You mean Hobson? Rudolph told me she was a slut who would sleep with anyone. It would get her into trouble one of these days.”
I grimaced. Something told me he had been laying the foundations for his kidnapping plot, rather than bitching that I would get an STD.
Charlotte sniffled. “He was picky, too. He listed all my flaws and said I would only reach his standards with liposuction, rhinoplasty, and collagen implants.”
“Ouch,” said Blake.
A dull ache filled my chest, and I wrapped my arms around my middle. All this time, I had thought Charlotte had demanded the cosmetic surgery when Rudolph had been the one who had demanded she alter her features. “He’s sick.”
Blake shook his head. “I almost feel bad for the girl.”
“Did you have sex with him during the Easter break?” asked Henry.
Charlotte shook her head. “I was still recovering from my surgeries, but we watched each other over video chat.”
“How many times did you meet him in real life?”
“A few times.” She paused, either because what she would say next was terrible, or because she wanted to draw out the suspense. “Philippe would meet me in London and take me to Rudolph’s suite.”
“What did you do for him?”
“Everything,” she said in a broken voice. “Oral. Anal. Whatever he wanted. I kept thinking about helping my family, not about myself. Rudolph is ugly, and—”
“Whose idea was it to lure Emilia into that trap?” asked Henry.
My gaze flickered down to my app, which still recorded her confession.
“Not mine,” she replied. “Rudolph told me Emilia had been his little spy for the Saturday Correspondent, but she was doing a poor job and needed to be taught a lesson. He asked me to meet Carbuncle and to present a scheme for him to get enough money to survive while hiding from the police.”
“But you left that invitation in her hallway,” said Henry.
Charlotte sniffled. “If Emilia didn’t show up in Chelsea Heights, Rudolph wouldn’t help my family.”
“How did your brother get involved?”
“He went to mother, demanding that she sell her jewelry because someone he owed threatened to cut out his liver. I asked Rudolph for money, and he suggested that Peter make himself useful. The plan was to have an anonymous kidnapper send Hobson’s pictures to the Correspondent every day until Mr. Carbuncle was finally caught.”
Nausea seized my insides in its slimy grip, and I doubled over. Reading between the lines, it looked like Rudolph had planned to have Mr. Carbuncle murder me or leave me in a state close to death. I blew out a long, shuddering breath. “Why does he hate me so much?”
Blake rubbed my back. “He hates your mother for not sleeping with him.”
I bit down on my lip. What if Mom refused to go to bed with Rudolph long after he’d gotten a clean bill of health for syphilis? That should be grounds for divorce, not vengeance. It looked like Rudolph was trying to hurt her by isolating us both and having me killed in the most grisly manner.
“I-It was terrible,” said Charlotte. “He’s like an emaciated chicken with loose skin. If you saw how much Viagra he had to take—”
“I don’t need the details,” snapped Henry. “Where is he hiding Carbuncle?”
“He didn’t say,” Charlotte replied in a small voice.
Henry changed the subject, and they discussed options for getting her revenge on Rudolph. I could barely absorb the words as I kept thinking about Mom. Did she know how much Rudolph resented her for her refusal to sleep with him? From Mom’s carefree demeanor, I didn’t think she did.
Eventually, Henry and Charlotte concocted the idea of a honey trap, where Charlotte would go on Skype and entice Rudolph to say something incriminating, such as how he had instructed Philippe to recruit Mr. Carbuncle and Peter Underwood to abduct me.
I sank lower into my seat and watched the fields stretching through vast expanses of the Mercia estate. A dull ache settled at the bottom of my roiling stomach, adding to my nausea. “What kind of long, twisted game is he playing?”
Blake patted my thigh. “He wants to deliver his revenge at the right time.”
I bowed my head. “That’s how it looks to me, too.”
He squeezed my hand. “But we’ll stop him. He won’t hurt you or your mother.”
I stared at my phone. As soon as Charlotte finished talking, I would send the recording to Mom and tell her to watch her back.
Chapter 7
The limo driver drove around the block and pulled into the courtyard outside Elder House. The second the vehicle stopped, Henry opened the door and stepped outside. Charlotte remained in the back seat, presumably to adjust her skirt and button her shirt. Without waiting for Blake or me to exit, Henry bolted up the steps to Elder House and disappeared through the wooden double doors.
I thanked the driver then stepped out after Blake. He turned to me, his dark brows creased with concern. “Try not to worry about your mother. She’ll be out of Rudolph’s reach until she decides to return from Morocco.”
We walked up the stone steps, through the double doors, and into the reception hall. The stone construction of Elder House meant that its interior was cooler than the outside, which was great for summer. Blake walked to his mailbox on the far left, while I checked mine in the middle. A manilla envelope lay in my mailbox.
I pulled it out. “What’s this?”
“Does it say who it’s from?” Blake pulled out a thick envelope made of quality paper stock out of his own mailbox. He turned it around to reveal the calligraphy script. “No prizes for guessing who has written to complain about my conduct.”
My brows drew together. “But you haven’t done anything wrong.”
He flashed me a grin so wide, it made my heart flip-flop. Blake was such a handsome rascal. “Not yet.”
I shook my head, and we walked arm-in-arm through the hallway to Edward’s study. Henry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his face a mask of disgust. Edward sat at his desk and tapped on his laptop, doing his best to ignore Henry’s wordless ranting.
Blake smirked. “Take one for the team.”
“Easy for you to say,” Henry snarled. “She isn’t salivating all over you.”
“No, but she often salivated over my cock.”
“Blake,” all three of us snapped at the same time.
He waved us away and sat on the Chesterfield. “You all love it when I talk dirty.” Pulling me down onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around my waist and murmured, “Especially you.”
“Not when it’s about Charlotte Underwood.” I slapped his muscled chest.
“I concur,” muttered Edward, still staring at the screen of his laptop.
“Anyway,” I squirmed on Blake’s lap. “Henry won’t have to take one for the team because I’ll be there to chaperone.”
“Good.” Henry strode to the door. “We’re meeting her in her room.”
“Now?”
“She told me to meet her in five minutes. That was ten minutes ago.”
I slid off Blake’s lap and slapped at the hand reaching for my ass.
“One second,” said Edward. “I’ve just downloaded the Stealth app. Fire it up before using Skype and video-call Charlotte. It will record everything that takes place on Skype. As soon as you activate stealth mode, you will become invisible, and she can call Rudolph without him noticing you’re also on the line.” He handed me his laptop. “It will also give you an excuse to be present.”
“Thanks.” I hugged the computer to my chest. Whatever Charlotte had planned would be designed both to entrap Rudolph and seduce Henry.
Henry and I left Edward’s study and ascended the stairs to the girls’ floor. He walked with the gait of a condemned man, a grim expression on his face. “I don’t know what she’s going to want me to do.”
I pla
ced a comforting hand on his arm. “I’ll be there to supervise. Feel free to walk out once she has Rudolph in front of the camera.”
Charlotte’s room was larger than the one I shared with Rita and had a great view of the lawn, main teaching block, and the path of magnolia trees. Rugby posters covered the walls of the left side of the room, depicting blond and ginger-haired players with muscular physiques like Henry’s.
She wore a parody of the Mercia Academy uniform. Under her burgundy blazer, a fitted shirt strained against her curves, and her skirt barely skimmed her crotch. Long, white socks finished off the outfit, making me wonder how many times she had dressed up like that for the camera. With her hair in two bunches, abnormally straight nose and bee-stung lips, she looked like a porno version of a schoolgirl.
Her laptop was balanced on her desk chair and pointed toward the bed. As soon as we stepped into the room, her malevolent glare raked over my form. “What’s she doing here?”
“Someone has to make sure you’re well lit,” I said. “And to record the blackmail material.”
“Fine. Just don’t ogle me.”
I snorted. “As if.”
After opening Edward’s laptop, I fired up the Stealth app and connected to Charlotte on Skype, making sure to silence the speakers to avoid feedback. The screen divided into two segments. Charlotte on the right and me on the left. She positioned herself on the bed for the camera and preened. The glare of the sun coming in from the window affected the quality of the picture, so Henry drew the curtains, and I turned on the desk lamp, creating softer lighting.
She crossed her legs. “How do I look, Henry?”
“Ready,” he muttered.
I clicked the stealth-mode button, and my image disappeared from the screen. “Call Rudolph whenever you like.”
Screen Charlotte leaned forward, fiddled with the mousepad on her laptop, then clicked a button. The Skype app made a dialing sound, and a few seconds later, a close-up of Rudolph’s jowly face appeared on the screen. He blinked a few times before his expressionless face morphed into a wide grin of unnaturally bright teeth.
“Darling,” he purred.
Anger burned in my veins, and acid roiled in my stomach. This bastard was the root of everything that had gone wrong in my life. If he hadn’t coerced Mom into marrying him so he could save face, I would have still been in Park Prep, enjoying a carefree life with Noelle. My heart sank. In all the turmoil, I’d lost touch with my former best friend.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl.” His voice became a low purr that made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Charlotte leaned into the camera, arms squishing her ample breasts together. She swung her shoulders from side to side, making her cleavage waltz. “Rupee, I had no choice. Those horrible boys gave me Mr. Carbuncle’s map and told me to tell the acting headmaster about the hidden cameras.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he used a mock-stern tone he probably only reserved for playtime.
“Can’t I prove myself to you?” she said, full pout in her baby voice. “I’m just a young girl who makes mistakes.”
Rudolph’s chuckle sent a shudder down my back. “A young girl who requires a stern punishment.”
I glanced up at Henry, whose gaze was fixed on me. His lips turned down, and one side of his nose wrinkled in a rictus of disgust.
“I wish you were here,” she crooned.
“So do I.” Rudolph’s voice became breathy. “Turn around and show me your panties.”
My brow furrowed. She was supposed to trick him into admitting that he had sent Mr. Carbuncle after me. How the hell did the conversation turn to her underwear?
Charlotte twisted around on the bed and positioned herself on her hands and knees, the back of her pleated gray skirt facing the camera. She flipped up the garment, revealing a skimpy thong, its white crotch already wet with arousal. I shook my head. For all that talk of Rudolph being disgusting, she was certainly enjoying herself now.
“Very good,” he said, voice breathy. “Now give yourself a hard spanking.”
I stepped away from the screen and stared at Henry. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile, and I smiled back. This was ridiculous. Watching two of my worst enemies have Skype-sex. In all the fuss about Charlotte, we hadn’t had a chance to have our heart-to-heart.
Ignoring the sounds of slapping, Charlotte’s fake whoops of pain, and Rudolph’s excited words of encouragement, I laced my fingers with Henry’s. The arousal I had felt earlier after the restaurant receded to the back of my mind, dampened by the activities in the room.
“Good girl,” said Rudolph. “Now, sit down.”
Rudolph’s voice broke me out of my Henry-induced stupor, and my gaze snapped to the screen. I blinked several times to focus my eyes, not quite believing what I was seeing. Rudolph had somehow zoomed out his webcam, so it showed him sitting on the leather armchair of a hotel room, naked and with his legs akimbo. His withered right hand pumped an angry red penis that stretched like elastic with each movement. It was probably still flaccid while he waited for the help of Viagra.
“Will you help me with my woes?” Charlotte crooned.
“That depends entirely on you, my dear.” Rudolph frowned down at his unresponsive member.
Charlotte leaned into the camera and fluttered her lashes. “What do you mean?”
“If you please me on camera, I will consider your request.”
She made an exaggerated pout. “What shall I do?”
“Those big jugs straining through your blouse, the ones with the thick, juicy nipples… I want to see them.”
Charlotte unbuttoned her shirt, and I twisted my fingers, indicating for Henry to turn his head. He turned his back to Charlotte, who now sat on the bed with her shirt undone. Her enormous boobs bulged out of a skimpy, red bra that barely covered her nipples. I winced, wondering if she suffered from back strain.
“Pull out those udders,” said Rudolph, his voice hoarse. “I want to see you suck on them.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ignore Charlotte’s slurping sounds and the urgent pounding of Rudolph’s fist hitting his groin.
For the next few minutes, we stood with our backs to Charlotte, staring into the opposite wall. Wet sounds of her dildo sliding in and out of her core filled my eardrums, as did Rudolph’s grunts and groans. The slimy tendrils of disgust warred with the warm fires of triumph. With this video, we could humiliate Rudolph and ruin his reputation. Mom would get a chance to divorce him on the grounds of infidelity, and we’d be free of the psychopath.
Charlotte made loud porn-star cries as she reached what I suspected was a fake climax, and Henry wrapped his hand around mine and squeezed. I glanced up into his scrunched features. He probably thought this was as ghastly as I did.
Rudolph made a strange gurgle in the back of his throat then let out a noisy gasp. “Good girl. I will be in touch with your next assignment.”
“Wait,” said Charlotte. “I thought you would finance Father’s legal defense if I did this.”
“It’s a start. Standby for further instructions, my dear.” Skype made a hanging up sound, indicating the end of the video call.
“Did you get the recording?” Charlotte asked through clenched teeth.
“One second.” Skipping my eyes over the figure on the screen, I minimized Skype and double-clicked Stealth. The video I had recorded popped up. “Yes. I’ve got it.”
“Send me a copy,” she snapped. “And turn around while I get changed.”
I hadn’t been looking at her, anyway. Tiny sniffles filled the air. It was hard to tell if Charlotte was genuinely upset or making the noises to garner Henry’s sympathy.
Part of me felt responsible for her predicament. If I hadn’t sent the Correspondent a recording of Alice telling me about her brother’s gambling problems, they wouldn’t have published a damning exposé on her family. And Charlotte’s father’s secretary might not have decided to blow the
whistle on his embezzlement.
I blew out a long breath. It was too late for self-blame. Charlotte had hurt me with the doctored shampoo, the gauntlet, and other pranks, and I’d acted in revenge. Then she and Rudolph had conspired to get me abducted by Mr. Carbuncle. I would say she had gotten retribution.
It took a while for Charlotte to put on her clothes. Henry stood as still as death, still staring at the opposite wall, while I walked to the window and inhaled lungfuls of fresh air. Rudolph was stringing Charlotte along. He had given her just enough to carry out the tasks he wanted while dangling the carrot of paying her family’s legal fees.
“Are you decent, yet?” I asked.
“Henry,” she said. “Did you see me?”
“No,” he replied.
I turned around in time to catch her features falling, and she clutched the sides of her dressing gown and stormed into the bathroom.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Henry strode to the door. “I have to get out of here.”
I closed Edward’s laptop, tucked it under my arm, and rushed after him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He opened the door and rushed down the hallway.
“Henry.” I hurried after him. At the top of the stairs, I grabbed his arm.
He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, features pinched with annoyance. “What?”
My gaze dropped to the slight bulge in his crotch. A blank wall of shock closed in around my brain, and my mouth gaped open. “Charlotte and Rudolph turned you on?”
“Of course not.” He continued down the stairs.
“Then why—”
“It’s been a long time, and my dick has a mind of its own, alright?”
My brows drew together. Ever since Blake had brought me back from the palace, he had spent every night with Edward and me. I barely remembered the last time I’d been intimate with the triumvirate. I think it was a week before the ambush, which was an eternity ago.
Guilt clutched at my heart. Even though there was space for Henry in Edward’s bed, I hadn’t made an effort to ask him to join us. And after everything I had been through, he wouldn’t have imposed.