Broken Princess (Van der Borne University Book 2)

by Dakota Lee

  Frankie, Tabitha, and Hal nod while Bella sits across from me, fuming. She’s outnumbered, so I don’t have to worry about the group helping her do anything stupid.

  “So, like I said, you’re all invited to the beach house. I’ll take care of everything, just show up, prepared to have a good time.”

  We move on to a quick brainstorming session about the end of year party, then everyone takes off to do their own thing.

  Tabitha lingers after the meeting ends. “Logan, are you sure it’s a good idea to have Jordanna there with all of us?”

  “No, but keeping her away from the group is causing a strain in our relationship. The only way to make her comfortable around all of you again, is to offer a safe place to interact. A week of relaxation and fun should do the trick.”

  “Drinking, doesn’t always make us nicer.”

  “I know, but I trust that you, Frankie, and Hal will fall in line. Bella would be the only wild card and not even she is crazy enough to go against the majority. Besides, we know she prefers to have someone else do her dirty work for her.”

  Tabitha takes off for whatever secret shit she does when she thinks no one’s looking, and I get to work on making arrangements to have the beach house opened and stocked with everything we’ll need.

  Thirty-Eight

  Jordanna

  “I can’t wait to have you to myself for the next two weeks.” Logan says, walking over to my bed. Shit. I was hoping I’d have another day to prepare myself for this conversation.

  “About that…”

  “I know. You’re excited to become my love slave. Don’t worry, I’ll let you out of bed to eat, and use the bathroom.”

  “You’re gonna have to go without me.”

  “You mean meet you there?”

  “No, I mean I’m not going to your dad’s beach house, with you and your friends.”

  “It’s spring break, one of the few times when campus will be completely deserted. Going home won’t be any better. Kingsley Hollows will be like a ghost town.”

  “I live in The Bluffs, remember? But I’m not going home either.”

  That gets his attention. Pointing to my bed, he says, “You’re packing a suitcase. Clearly you’re going somewhere. So the question is with who?”

  “Myself.”

  “Care to tell me where?”

  “Europe. Paris to be exact.”

  His eyes widen in surprise. Yeah buddy, I’m sure you didn’t see that coming. Until an hour ago, neither did I.

  “Paris in Spring? Okay, that sounds cool. It’ll only take me a minute to book a flight. What time do we leave?”

  “Not we, Logan. Me. I’m going alone.”

  He sits on the bed so fast, you’d think I hit him in the solar plexus or kneed him in the nuts. Even the one time I did, he didn’t sink down as fast as he does now.

  “Baby, what’s going on?”

  “What’s going on, is, I don’t want to spend a week with your friends.”

  “Fine. Their asses aren’t invited to Paris. I wouldn’t drag them along with us, anyway.”

  “I don’t want you there, either.”

  His gaze darkens. I take a deep breathe preparing for the argument I know we’re about to have.

  “This was supposed to be our time together, Jordy. A chance to get away from school, and the stress in our lives. You told me you were looking forward to spending spring break with me, and I made plans based on that. Now you’re telling me you’re going out of the country for two weeks. When were you gonna tell me all the plans I’ve been making were a waste of time?”

  It wasn’t a waste and a part of me was excited he was going all out for us. If I say that, he’ll want to know what happened to change my mind, then bulldoze his way through the conversation to get me to agree to whatever he wants. I can’t tell him the real reason I’m leaving, so I have to let him think I’m just being a flake.

  “I thought I did, but I changed my mind, okay? And now that you’re ambushing me with this news about everybody staying at the beach house, I’m glad I did. I don’t wanna spend a week crammed in a house, close to the water, with the very people who despise me. I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, but my feelings are important here too.”

  “You could’ve just told me.”

  “I’m telling you now. Jesus, Logan. What do you want from me?”

  “Everything!!”

  That shuts me right up. That phrase could mean so many things. “Everything like in bed? Because we already do a lot of kinky shit.”

  “Everything means, just what it sounds like, Jordy. The only one of us having trouble accepting what’s going on here is you. You don’t want my friends around. Fine. Fuck them. I’ll go with you to Paris, and we can still have fun, because that’s the whole point. I want to be with my girlfriend. That’s you. You’re all I care about.”

  This is the most real he’s ever been and my carefully planned speech is going to shit. I didn’t expect him to invite himself along for the trip. I need him to back off and the only way to do that is by putting him in defensive mode. He wants me, yes. But he wants his throne and power even more.

  “Don’t you get it, Logan? It doesn’t matter if people know we’re dating, and they don’t care how many events you take me to. Your friends are always going to look at me like I’m an outsider. Hell, after everything that happened, they probably think I’m only interested in you because of your money.”

  “No one thinks that.”

  “Really? So Bella has never mentioned my newfound financial freedom?” He can’t say she hasn’t because I overheard them talking about it a few days ago.

  “I know the truth, and that’s all that matters to me.”

  “The truth is nothing. Every day is an uphill battle to earn their respect. After what all of you did to me, I think they’re the ones who should be trying to earn my respect.” Throwing more clothes into my suitcase, I say, “The point is, you’ll never understand what it’s like for me. You were born here, and into a certain way of life. Your family obligations and friends have this soul deep hold on you. Look at what you did with our spring plans. You invited them to stay with us. How romantic.”

  “I just thought we could all spend time together and move past our issues.”

  “Really? Cause it sounds to me like you don’t know how to function without an audience. You like having all those people around kissing your ass. You’ll never give up that security, that power, and bringing me along forcing them to play nice, is just a way for you to wield it. Logan, I’ve seen how the quest for more corrupts. It’s how step-dummy wound up in jail. Wanting more influence, power, and money.”

  “Jordy.”

  I shrug him off when he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Logan, things are always so intense with us, and I just need space, okay? My mom paid for this trip because she sees how lost I’ve been with my painting. I’ll be home for two days, then I’m in Paris for a week, and then it’s on to Italy for the last part of spring break. I’m gonna read, and paint and just soak up some culture.”

  “You’re saying you need space from me, and hanging out with my friends is a deal breaker for you. So what happens when you come back? What happens to us? Because I’m sure Paris and Italy won’t magically make you all best friends.”

  “I don’t know. But I can’t keep going on like this. One minute I’m confident we’re on solid footing, the next I’m walking minefields waiting for Bella to jump out and tell me this was just another elaborate rouse.”

  If she does, the jokes on her, because I’m in this with my eyes wide open. I only mention it because I need him to believe this is a trip of self-discovery, instead of what it really is. Me following up on my research project.

  I found the city and neighbor Mr. Hernandez told me about. He was right about the family moving away. I was certain it wasn’t a coincidence that Shaw is the same name as the person Kenneth Ruttledge had a land dispute with, so I kept digging.

  Last week I tra
cked down a woman I believe is the neighbors daughter. She lives in Italy and agreed to meet me with me. I can’t pass up this chance to finally get answers.

  “Jordanna, you want me to bend, but you’re the inflexible one here. Just as tightly as you think my friends are holding on to their grudge. That’s the same thing you’re doing, now. I’m not gonna let them tell me who I can be with, but I won’t let you do it either. You need to trust me and let this irrational fear you have go, or we’ll never be able to move forward.”

  I cross my hands over my chest. “What makes you think I want things to change from the way they are now?”

  The vein in his jaw throbs. Turning he walks across the floor. Pausing with one foot on either side of the door, he says, “You know what? You’re right. We need some time apart.”

  I may have overplayed my hand, but I’ll have to worry about that later.

  Daniella Rossi reminds me of Grace Kelly. It’s the slope of her nose, the set of her eyes, and her poise. I fully expected to hear her say she’s married to a prince. It turns out she’s not. But her husband was an aide to the former Italian Ambassador.

  “You said you had some questions about a missing heirloom?” She asks, offering me a seat.

  “Yes. I’m researching an item that was purchased at an estate sale. I was able to track down the name of the designer, William Coultier, and I was told your family owned the space he rented for his business and was wondering if you knew of any families that may have done business with him.” I shuffle through my papers, and the picture of the ring floats to the floor. “Sorry, about that.”

  She scoops the picture up and frowns.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?”

  “You mentioned a compact over the phone.” She looking up at me. “Are you also researching this ring?”

  “I promised a shop keeper I’d come back and talk to him if I solved the mystery of the makeup case. You haven’t happened to see a ring like this before, have you?”

  “I haven’t. Not in person, but I may have heard stories from my granny Judith.”

  My ears perk up. “What kind of stories?”

  “Back when my family lived in America, there was a boy.”

  “A boy?”

  “Yes. He was from one of the local families. They grew up together. The best of friends, and eventually, he came to see her as more than a friend.”

  “Did she feel the same way about him?”

  “I believe she did. From what I hear, they were to be married.” She strokes the picture with her thumb. “If I’m correct, this was supposed to be her wedding ring.”

  “Was. I’m assuming it didn’t happen.”

  “No, it didn’t. When her father found out, he refused to give his blessing, because in his eyes, she was already promised to someone else.”

  An arranged marriage? Isn’t that the way these stories always go? “So the ring, she gave it back?”

  “I was always under the assumption that she kept it, but I never paid much attention to the ending of the story as a kid, because it didn’t have any unicorns in it. Where did you say you saw it?”

  “I actually stumbled across the ring, by accident. It was in a little shop I visited while researching the compact. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, so I took a picture.” Looking at her, it’s my turn to frown. “Mrs. Rossi, this doesn’t make any sense. If you think this was your great-grandmother’s ring, and she lived in California, how did it end up in a small town in New York?”

  She points to the bookshelf behind me. “Hand me the blue book with the gold leaf lettering.”

  I locate it and place it in her lap, once again taking my seat beside her. “Let’s see if we can find pictures or any mention of the ring.”

  She flips through a few pages, and I point to a picture on the left side of the book. “Wait. This guy looks familiar. I feel like I’ve seen this photo before.”

  “Perhaps in an old newspaper clipping or a movie? I’m told Great Uncle Bartholemew was quite the accomplished actor.”

  “Maybe.”

  Shaking her head, she closes the book after getting to the last page. My shoulders deflate. I’m not sure why I got my hopes up. Nothing about this has been easy since the moment Pepper showed me that shiny clamshell. But, I came here for more than the compact. I’m also trying to track the history of land ownership in Kingsley Hollows.

  “There was one more question I had.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you know what the terms of the sale were for the land that used to be owned by Bruce Shaw?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. That story I’ve heard enough times to recite by heart. There was an issue with the property divide, separating Ruttledge’s land from great-grandpa Bruce’s, though I suspect the animosity was all because of granny Judith’s broken engagement.”

  “Your great-grandmother was originally engaged to Kenneth Ruttledge?”

  “Yes, she was. I’m told her father liked the Ruttledge’s well enough but Kenneth wasn’t the first-born son, and there was already an agreement in place to marry her off to Bruce Shaw who was.”

  There goes more of that old elitist hierarchy shit I can’t get on board with.

  “So you think Ruttledge retaliated and stole the land?”

  “That’s the version of events I heard. Grampa Bruce could never prove it. At any rate, I think I have the land deed for that parcel you’re talking about.” She pulls out a card and passes it to me. “I don’t keep the provenance documents to any of our valuables or important papers here. They’d be in my family lock box at this bank.”

  I agree to meet her at nine in the morning, excited to get a look at that deed.

  Five minutes to nine, I’m in front of the bank, waiting for Daniella Rossi. The doors swing open and the manager ushers me inside. “Mrs. Rossi is waiting for you downstairs. Right this way.”

  I follow him passed the vault and down a flight of stairs to the safety deposit boxes. He steps forward with his key. He and Daniella unlock the box, which should be called a mini vault, and places it on the table between us.

  Daniella hands me a stack of papers which turn out to be a series of portraits. I unfurl the third one. “Huh. They say there’s a double of everyone in the world and I guess it’s true, because she looks like my sister, Summer.”

  “Summer? Where did you say you were from in the states, dear?”

  “I’m originally from Fairview, Connecticut, but now we live in Kingsley Bluffs, New York.” Daniella has the same look on her face that she had yesterday when she saw the picture of the ring. “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Well, as you know, New York is, where my granny Judith’s family is originally from. I’m not familiar with your town, though. Perhaps it used to be called something else. Is your given name Jordanna?”

  “Yup. I’m named after my mom’s grandfather and favorite aunt. My sister was named in honor of the maiden name of some ancestor on my dad’s side. I guess you weren’t the only one tuning out on long, boring stories.”

  She pulls out a photo album and flips through the pages. “No way,” I gasp, looking at the family portrait. The older man looks like an age progression of my dad.

  “This is my great grandmother, Judith Summer, and this gentleman is her father Elijah. The portrait you said looks like your sister is of his wife Charlotte.” She points to another person, “And this is great-great-uncle Batholemew again. I’m told there was a third sibling that no one really talks about. Growing up, I used to hear whispers though. When my great-grandmother got older, she started telling stories about her childhood. A lot of the family dismissed them as confused ramblings. We now think she had Alzheimers but there was no official diagnosis of things like that back then.”

  She rubs her hand across the photo. “When I got older, I would sit and listen to her stories, though. She told me she had a sister, who also found love with someone their father didn’t approve of. But she ignored her parent’s wishes
and married the gentleman, anyway. She was disowned for her disobedience and everyone pretended she never existed.”

  “This is granny Judith with the ring from your picture, on a chain around her neck.” Pointing to another picture, she says, “Here a year later, she still wears the chain, but the ring is missing.”

  I take a picture of the deed to compare with the one on file with the city. “What do you think happened to the third sibling?”

  Daniella stares at me, unblinking. “I think my great-great aunt must’ve gone on to live a marvelous life, raised a family, and passed down the only thing she could. Our name.”

  This is a lot to take in. The photo of the guy who looks like my dad, and the woman who looks like Summer. And, Daniella’s great-grandmother was engaged to a Ruttledge.

  Daniella walks to the storage vault again. “My mother was working on something for years. Some kind of hobby that she wouldn’t tell us about, and stored it in this box. I could never get a straight answer when I asked her about it. Right before she passed, she told me the key was sent somewhere for safekeeping.”

  “What’s in here?” I ask, when she sits a smaller locked box on the table in front of me.

  She gives me a pointed stare and I realize I’m toying with the key I wear on the chain around my neck. “I think you have the key to answer that question.”

  I consider her words and slip the chain over my head. It slides easily into the lock and turns. The safety deposit box has two things inside it. An unfinished family tree and a picture of my dad when he was little, wearing his lucky number on his basketball jersey.

  * * *

  During the flight home, my mind is swirling with everything I heard and saw on my trip, and what it all could possibly mean. Once again, I feel like my world’s been flipped upside down and I’m faced with the startling reality that I know nothing about my family. I could have been on a beach with Logan, having a normal spring break experience, instead of feeling like I’m losing another piece of myself while cruising 37,000 feet in the air.