House of York, #1

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House of York, #1 Page 11

by Charlotte Byrd


  He looks hurt, but that’s just another game.

  When the cameras surround us, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it as hard as possible.

  Then I look deep into his eyes and thank him for his kindness.

  Lying was never anything I could ever do well.

  But thanks to my time in York, I’m developing all sorts of new talents.

  I’m becoming quite an actress.

  If they want to see a show, then a show is what I’ll give them.

  They haven’t seen anything yet.

  I pull my hand away from him and spin on my heels.

  Holding my head up high, I walk away.

  As soon as I take a few steps, I feel sick to my stomach, but I don’t dare show a bit of my queasiness.

  I lift my chin higher to the ceiling.

  This is my runway.

  I relax all the muscles in my face and carry myself with grace and composure.

  Cameras disperse around me as I walk back, and I realize that Easton isn’t the only person I need to worry about.

  Everything that’s happening here is being recorded.

  For someone.

  And shown.

  To someone.

  But who?

  Everly

  When I meet a girl…

  Cocktail hour comes to a close as soon as I return. The men quickly disappear and we are told to follow two servants in black gowns to a large lobby area just outside of the cocktail area.

  The floors are marble and there’s an enormous winding staircase snaking its way to the second floor.

  In the middle of the hall, there’s a vast round table with a huge bouquet of flowers.

  A man in his mid-forties wearing an elegant tuxedo stands near the table. His hair has hints of gray, and it doesn’t budge an inch as he moves and talks. He has a soft, effeminate voice with a hint of a Hugh Grant-type of English accent.

  “Welcome. Welcome,” he says as we crowd around him.

  He takes a few steps up the staircase so he can see over all of us.

  “Welcome to your home,” he says when our voices die down. “My name is J. Like the letter.”

  The women around me exchange significant glances with each other.

  “Just the letter, isn’t that mysterious,” one of them whispers.

  Oh, if you only knew, I want to say.

  “You will find your bedrooms upstairs and the kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs,” J continues. “Your suitcases are already in the upstairs rooms, the ones which have been assigned to you. You are very privileged to make it to the Elite and we are happy to have you. I know that the showing and the cocktail party was a little stuffy, so we hope you enjoy tonight’s party a little more and let yourselves go.”

  The Elite?

  What’s the Elite?

  J leaves and I follow the rest of the contestants upstairs. One of the last doors on the left is marked “Number 19.” I assume this is meant for me.

  Inside, I find a lavish suite.

  Large television.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows onto a tropical garden.

  A large claw-foot bathtub.

  A glass shower with four shower heads.

  A walk-in closet.

  I don’t have a suitcase, of course, so instead I find a closet stocked with the same clothes that had once hung in my first room here.

  Running my fingers through the dresses, a loud knock startles me.

  I place my hand on the knob and I’m pleasantly surprised by the fact that the door actually swings open. A girl about my height with plump cheeks and excited eyes is standing on the other side. She introduces herself as Paige and jumps on my king-size bed.

  “Isn’t this place just amazing?” Paige announces. Her exuberance reminds me of Alessandra’s and I wonder if they both heard about this place from the same person. I mean, what am I missing here?

  “Yeah, it’s pretty…impressive,” I mumble.

  “Are you just not dying that you’re here?” she squeals, jumping further up my bed and beating her feet against the covers.

  “No. I am, I am,” I lie.

  I really wanted a few minutes alone to gather my thoughts before the next thing happens, but I guess I know that I won’t be able to get her out of my room without a significant effort. She’s not one to take a hint.

  “What do you think is going to happen next?” Paige asks, wrapping her hands around her knees and looking up at me with large puppy dog eyes.

  I shrug. I have no idea. Except that it’s probably nothing good.

  “So, where are you from?” I ask.

  “New Jersey, but I went to school in Ithaca, New York.”

  “Cornell?”

  “Nope, I didn’t get in. Ithaca College.”

  The only thing I know about Ithaca is that it’s a particularly cold area of upstate New York.

  “My boyfriend went to Cornell, so I thought, hey, Ithaca’s a good school. Why not?”

  “How did that end up?”

  “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” she asks, coyly.

  As we continue to chitchat, I quickly realize that Paige isn’t as stupid as she pretends to be. She’s actually quite observant. I’m not sure what the ditzy act is all about, but I’m eager to find out.

  She majored in Anthropology and started a company that sources crafts made by indigenous women and sells them to fancy boutiques.

  “People nowadays really want authentic things, so that’s what we are offering them. Plus, a portion of our profits goes to help the women who make the crafts. So far we have craftswomen from India, Haiti, and Guatemala, but we are looking to expand to other countries as well.”

  “Wow, that’s quite impressive,” I say.

  She barely looks any older than I am, and yet here she is with a company, a business plan, and a mission statement in place.

  As much as I want to hear more about her work, there’s a question I need answered even more.

  “So, I have to ask you,” I say after a lull in conversation. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes open widely, as if in shock.

  I lean in and shrug. She shrugs back. Now, I’m confused.

  “Um, because this place is awesome,” she finally says.

  I catch myself shaking my head before I can stop myself.

  “Wait, do you not think so?”

  I shrug again. I don’t really know how to respond except that I quickly realize that my response is not the right one.

  “Everly, it’s such a privilege to be here,” she says.

  Yes, that’s what I keep hearing everyone say, but none of you have had the opportunity to experience the underbelly of this place.

  “I mean, I know it’s a game and all. But it’s not every day that you get to be in the running to meet someone so high ranking.”

  “Like who?”

  “Oh, you don’t know?” Paige gasps. “Well, from what I’ve heard, and these are just rumors, of course, but a royal is looking for a wife. He’s very charming and ridiculously wealthy. And he brings women to this island for a little competition. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “Yes, of course,” I say quickly, but not very convincingly. Paige lets it slide.

  “I just wasn’t sure about the details. I mean, I heard rumors of course,” I add.

  This seems to put her more at ease.

  Everly

  When she tells me her story…

  I don’t expect to make a friend in here, let alone meet someone I really like. But Paige grows on me. Quickly.

  There’s a way that she is.

  Open. Sweet. Kind. Unassuming, perhaps?

  It’s hard to pinpoint exactly, except that she makes me very comfortable. It’s almost like everything about her demeanor puts me at ease with who I am.

  “So, how did you…find out about this place?” I ask, choosing my words carefully.

  “Well, I’ve heard about it through the grapevine. Sort of.”

&
nbsp; “Really?”

  “You know how it is. I heard it from a friend of a friend of a friend. I went to a sorority party at Cornell and met a few girls who knew about this contest. They didn’t really know anything, but they’d heard about it. They were debutantes back in prep school, real society types, and this place is known among people in those circles.”

  My heart sinks.

  My only hope was that no one knew what was going on here. And now, I learn this.

  “Oh, don’t look so disappointed,” Paige says. “No one really knows what happens here. It was just a bunch of talk. But once I found out that there’s this contest, I really wanted to participate.”

  “Why?”

  “My parents are well off, but you know, they don’t have real wealth. I want to make my business work, so I need to meet people with real money. Like people who invest in startups. Plus, if in the process, I meet someone nice, hot, and rich, why not, right? I mean, I’m single. I’m down to meet some sexy men.”

  “But what if you don’t like the guy?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “No big deal. Relationships are two-way streets. If I’m not into him, then I have no problem leaving.”

  A familiar feeling of dread fills my body.

  She thinks she will just be able to leave.

  No problem.

  Like it’s a choice open to her. I want to tell her the truth, but I have to physically bite down on my tongue to keep myself quiet.

  I can’t tell her for a variety of reasons.

  One, they’ve already warned me once.

  Two, I don’t want the same thing to happen to her that happened to Alessandra.

  And, three, I need to find out more about how she got here. If they didn’t kidnap her like they did me, then how did they bring her here?

  I press her a little more about the details while trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. “So, how did they find out that you were interested in attending?” I ask.

  “The debutantes didn’t really know anything about this except for what they told me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, we all know that there are these elaborate masquerade balls that happen in Venice every year during carnival, but no one really knows what happens there, right?”

  I shrug.

  “Same thing with this place. They didn’t know anyone who was invited. Or anyone who has ever been here. It’s all very exclusive and hush-hush.”

  And illegal, I want to add.

  “I gave up on it for a while. I mean, no one knew anything about it; no one I knew anyway.”

  “Or maybe they were just not telling,” I suggest.

  Her eyebrows go up. “Perhaps.”

  “And then I met this guy. This really hot guy. We went out a couple of times. I thought he really liked me.”

  “But he didn’t?” I ask.

  “No, he did. But he was really old-fashioned. A real gentleman.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

  “I’d broken up with my boyfriend a few months before and I hadn’t slept with anyone for a while. So, when we went out a few times, I invited him back to my place, but he never stayed over. It’s kind of strange to meet a guy who doesn’t want to sleep with you on a first date, you know?”

  I nod.

  “He kept saying that he had to get back to his grandmother.”

  Grandmother?!

  “Wait, what?” I ask.

  “Apparently, he was living with her and taking care of her.”

  My hands start to shake.

  I don’t want her to see so I press them into the covers of my bed.

  My mind starts to race.

  No, no, no.

  It can’t be him.

  I’ve gone over what happened before I got here again and again.

  Easton wanted me to think that it was Jamie.

  But that was a lie.

  It has to be.

  No, no, no.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Paige puts her hand on my shoulder and nearly jumps off of the bed.

  I take a few deep breaths to try to slow down my breathing. Get a hold of yourself, Everly. Don’t freak out.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I finally say. “I’m just a little tired from everything today.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  I get off the bed and open a bottle of water. After gulping it all down, I turn to her.

  “So, do you think he was hiding something?” I ask. “Or do you think he really has a grandmother?”

  “I don’t know.” Paige shrugs. “It was a bit strange. I mean, we had this great chemistry and then he would just leave me hanging after every date. I thought he would at least come over so we could watch some movies and fool around.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  She shakes her head. “I kind of started to think that he had a girlfriend. Maybe they lived together. But then he invited me to this fancy party. I wanted to say no, but he kept insisting, so I finally went.”

  Fancy party? Like at the Oakmont?

  “What kind of party?”

  “A big charity ball at the Elliott Hotel in New Haven. It’s this ridiculously expensive five-star hotel. I’ve never been there before. It was gorgeous as you would expect.”

  A charity ball at a five-star hotel. My heart sinks.

  “I was really surprised that Jamie knew anyone who would attend a party like that. I mean, you should’ve seen the silent auction that they had. People were giving away private plane trips and trips to Europe on their own private yachts.”

  Paige keeps talking, but all I focus on is that name. Jamie.

  Everly

  When the pieces start to come together…

  Jamie.

  Jamie.

  Jamie.

  His name hangs in the air, as if it were a word bubble in a comic strip. It could be a coincidence, but it’s not.

  “The Bay Foundation was raising money for their clean water initiative. I wished I could have made a bid, but unfortunately I could barely afford to pay my rent that month, especially after I splurged on that dress from Nordstrom for the event.”

  Jamie.

  A silent auction.

  The Bay Foundation.

  The Clean Water Initiative.

  Everything about her story was identical to mine. Except the ending. I got kidnapped. What happened to her? She would tell me the truth, right?

  Wrong.

  Of course, she wouldn’t. I mean, I’m not. I can’t.

  “So, what happened after?” I ask.

  “Oh, at the end, he was a gentleman as always. Gave me a really hot kiss and said he had to go home to his grandmother. And then that night, I got a knock on my door and a courier delivered this gold box.”

  “Gold box?” I ask. This is…different.

  “Yeah, this large box. I swear, it was about this big.” She spreads her arms out to her sides. “It had all of these elaborate carvings on it, and they were embossed in gold.”

  “What was inside?”

  “Crystals. Lots of little crystals, which I later found out were actual diamonds. And inside the larger box, there was a smaller box. This one was covered in lace and had a pearl crown brooch wrapped in golden lace on top. The embellishment was exquisite. The invitation had directions to this private airport in Greenwich, Connecticut, and a jet brought me here.”

  My mouth drops open. So, she got an invitation to this place. With diamonds. Embossed gold.

  “Why do you think you got an invitation?” I ask, trying to hide the extent of my surprise.

  “Um, I don’t know,” she says with an air of whimsy. “I was thinking about that for a while, and I sort of get the feeling that it was because it must have gotten back to someone in charge that I had heard about this place and I was looking for an invite.”

  What about Jamie?

  My mind continues to spin.

  In all of my time here, I never suspected him.

&nbs
p; I mean, I did briefly but then I quickly put those suspicions aside.

  No, it couldn’t be him.

  It had to be Easton.

  But now?

  Well, it’s pretty clear that Jamie had everything to do with this.

  There’s no way that we would both have the same story to tell. But there’s one question that still bothers me.

  Why?

  Why would Jamie target me?

  Unlike Paige, I’ve never heard of this place before.

  I never wanted to come here.

  I never wanted to participate in any sort of contest or competition to win the heart of a man I don’t know.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever get an answer to this question.

  “So, what about you?” Paige turns to me. “What’s your story? You really had to dig deep to get here, too, I’m sure.”

  I nod.

  Of course. What else is there to say?

  But Paige doesn’t let me get off that easily. “I want to hear all the details,” she insists. “C’mon, please. Tell me. I told you!”

  That’s true. I have no good reason to not tell her.

  So, I open my mouth and start to lie.

  “I heard about this place in college,” I start. “Just like you. Mainly from the rich girls.”

  “What is it with those girls? They know everything!”

  I smile in agreement.

  “Well, I was intrigued, but then we graduated and I moved to Philly.”

  I pause for a moment, trying to decide whether I should tell her what I know about Jamie.

  I like her.

  I trust her.

  But do I trust her that much?

  No, I can’t.

  I want to tell her more than anything, but I need to protect her.

  I learned my lesson with Alessandra.

  That’s not going to happen to Paige.

  The story I tell her has some similarities to Paige’s, but the details are different.

  There’s no Jamie.

  There’s no Bay Foundation.

  But there is a charity ball, which I attended with a friend of mine.

  I also received a big gold box with a fancy invitation.

 

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