by MJ Prince
“You’re living in Sovereign Hall, right?” Dani asks then.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“God, that’s amazing. You’ll get to go to all of the crazy parties that they throw there.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
“What parties?”
“The Dynasty heirs are always throwing parties at Sovereign Hall. The school has a strict curfew, but they turn a blind eye to the parties, if they’re being hosted by the Dynasty heirs.”
“Of course, they do.”
“In fact, I think there’s a party tonight—first day of semester and all.”
I let out a frustrated groan. Great. I’m going to have to make sure that I get upstairs and lock myself in my room before it all kicks off.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not invited.”
Dani shakes her head in disbelief again.
“I really don’t get why they hate you so much. I mean you’re meant to be one of them and your father was the King, for god’s sake. I get the fact that you being half human and the whole stripper waitress rumor doesn’t exactly put you on the A-list. I guess there’s also the age old rivalry between the two sovereign Dynasties—yours and Raph’s. But to have the Dynasty heirs actually decree that you’re an outcast—that’s like giving you the kiss of death. It’s some pretty serious shit.”
“I’m not one of them,” I repeat. I don’t know what she means about the rivalry part, but I have no interest in asking for any further details.
“They’ve made that clear and you know what? I couldn’t care less. They can hate me. Screw them.”
Dani gets that thoughtful look again.
“It’s a shame though—because I know that every guy here probably thinks you’re the hottest thing to set foot in Regency Mount since … Layla herself.”
“And if it wasn’t for the Dynasty heirs’ school-wide decree, you’d probably have at least a dozen guys over here right now, asking you out.”
I can’t help but laugh in response.
“What? That’s crazy.”
Dani looks at me like I’m dense.
“Oh, god, you’re not one of those hot girls who knows that they’re hot but puts on the fake modesty, are you? Let me guess—you were like the hottest girl in your last school?”
I laugh again.
“No, not even close. I’m not being fake modest, but I’ve had more important things to think about.”
Dani looks at me like I’m crazy, or like life suddenly doesn’t make sense.
Her eyes travel from the popular table, where Raph is still staring, to me and back again. Then a small smile forms on her lips.
I catch Layla following Raph’s eyeline, the look of displeasure on her face is clear. She gets up and walks over to where Raph is sitting, and drops her ass onto his lap. He doesn’t push her off as she pulls his face to hers. I look away then, not wanting to throw up my lunch.
“I think I get it now,” Dani says, her smile growing wider and with a knowing gleam in her eyes.
I don’t ask her to spell it out because frankly, I really do not want to know.
9
Thankfully, the next period goes by uneventfully, mostly because there are no Dynasty heirs in my theology class. Dani is in my class, though, and when we compare schedules, we find that we actually share most of our classes. I find myself liking that. I’ve always walked the high school halls alone and never thought anything of it. But Dani is right—having a friend does make things more bearable and I like her. She seems different from the rest of the spoiled rich kids at Regency. Maybe it’s because she understands what it’s like not to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth. We’re from two totally different planets, but in some ways, our backgrounds aren’t that far apart.
When I walk into my last class of the day with Dani, I’m not so glad to find that sociology isn’t so Dynasty heir free. The first thing I see when I walk in is Raph, sitting, no, more like lounging, in one of the front row desk chairs. Layla is perched on the desk in front of him, sitting in a very deliberate angle, so as to expose as much of her long legs as humanly possible. I think I might throw up my lunch.
Those blue eyes fix directly on me as I enter the room. His face was utterly blank just a moment ago as he regarded Layla’s peep show. A block of stone would have been more expressive in comparison. But those irritatingly perfect features draw together in a scowl when he sees me. Great. He hates me so much, that even his stone cold mask can’t hide it.
Layla follows his line of sight and her pert nose wrinkles at the sight of me, as if she’s just caught a whiff of a dead animal. Nice.
I purposely ignore them as I try to find some seats. We’re the last to arrive, so I’m expecting only the seats at the back to be free. But I’m surprised to see two spare seats at the front. In the same row as Raph.
I’d rather chew my own arm off than sit in the same row as the asshole King and his bitch Queen. But I don’t have the luxury of being able to make other students move with just a look. Not that I’d want to do such a dickish thing. So, I take the seat at the front and Dani drops down next to me.
When the class starts, I keep my eyes fixed to the front, at Professor Gorman, as he drones on about this year’s syllabus. But I can feel Raph’s eyes burning a hole into me all the while. I ignore him completely, not wanting to give this asshole the satisfaction of thinking I’ve even noticed that he’s in this class, or in the same school, for that matter.
We’re halfway through class when Professor Gorman asks everyone to open their textbooks to this week’s topic. I follow the instructions on autopilot and I can hear my own scream when an explosion of pure white light flares from my open textbook, blinding me in an instant.
I feel my ass hit the cold hard floor with a painful thud as I fall off my chair in an attempt to get away from the death lights. Laughter explodes around me, and when my vision returns, I can see that my ass is sprawled out on the floor. The whole class is in hysterics. Everyone, apart from Dani, who is looking at me with concern.
I’m not laughing, though. I’m furious. I get up from the floor with as much dignity as I can muster. My eyes shoot directly to Raph. The mask of stone is gone, replaced by a cocky as hell smirk, which just infuriates me all the more. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Next to him, Layla looks as pleased as a cat being rewarded with its favorite treat. She’s almost purring with delight.
A stream of obscenities rings through my mind and I’m not even thinking straight when I pick up my five hundred page text book and hurl it directly at Raph’s smirking face. The laughter stops immediately, and I hear some gasps as the book, which is as heavy as a brick, flies through the air towards Raph.
I must have a good arm because it looks like that brick is going to smash straight into that perfect face of his.
But his reflexes are impossibly fast. He snaps out a hand and catches the projectile in mid-flight, just a hair’s breadth away from his face. An instant later, my text book explodes into a ball of flame in his hand.
I watch in disbelief as the inferno engulfs his bare hand, my text book turning into ashes as his gaze locks onto mine. He’s not smiling anymore. The deathly calm in those glacier-like eyes, coupled with the fact that he can apparently summon an inferno in the blink of an eye, is positively unnerving. I feel a chill race down my spine when I finally understand exactly who and what I’m up against here.
My gaze falls on Professor Gorman who is watching the whole thing passively. Again, as if this sort of thing happens in class all the time.
“Are you just going to stand there?” I ask, feeling my own outrage.
“This asshole almost blinded me and he’s just set my text book on fire!”
I catch Raph snickering in the corner of my eye, because I must look totally naïve. Of course, Professor Gorman isn’t going to do anything. As Dani told me earlier, even the teachers are scared of these spoiled pricks.
“Sit back down, Jazmine,�
�� Professor Gorman replies flatly, completely unfazed by my outburst.
I think I lose whatever fraction of calm I have left then. Without another word, I pick up my bag and get the hell out of there, because if I have to look at Raph’s mocking smile or Layla’s equally smug expression a moment longer, I’m going to lose my shit.
After spending the rest of the afternoon in the library, I finally muster the courage to head back to Sovereign Hall.
As I approach the sparkling white mansion, the first thing I notice is the cars on the white stone driveway. The garage on the side of the mansion, which was empty last night, is also now occupied. There’s a sleek black motorcycle at the front of the driveway. Next to it is an equally sleek matte black sports car, which looks like it costs more than the price of most homes. A large blacked out Range Rover is behind it, along with a white convertible. There are two other cars in the garage. I can’t make out what they are. But one thing is clear, the spoiled brats are home.
I seriously consider trying to climb in through my bedroom window. But I shake the thought away. I live here, too, and I’m not going to hide from these bastards.
I take a deep breath and step through the front door. Conversation stops as I enter, and I can feel eyes on me as I walk through the reception hall. I don’t make eye contact with anyone, I but can see Baron and Lance turn from the video game that they’re playing on the massive flat screen TV, to look at me. Ivy, who is sitting on Lance’s lap, gives me the look of death. Keller is propped up on the kitchen island, where Layla is sitting on one of the stools. Both are clearly not happy to see me.
I don’t say a word as I try to walk up the spiral staircase as calmly as possible. I’m not going to run, but it’s an effort to keep my pace unhurried and my face blank.
Focusing much too hard on putting one foot in front of the other, I don’t notice the tall muscular figure coming down the stairs until I crash into a rock-hard chest and find myself looking up at a pair of impossibly blue eyes.
I push myself back, as if I’ve just hit a wall of fire, but that’s not a great idea, given that I’m standing on a staircase. I feel myself losing balance but before I go plummeting backwards down the cold marble steps, I feel a solid arm around my waist, keeping me from falling. I can feel all eyes in the room staring, but they suddenly feel so far away.
Raph says nothing as he pulls me against his chest. Even through his white shirt, I can feel the heat of his skin. In the same way that he almost seems to glow with the sun’s light, he seems to carry the warmth of it, too. We’re standing so close, that we’re sharing breath and I know he can feel my heart thundering against my chest. The feel of his hard body flush against mine makes warmth pool in parts of my body which makes me hate my traitorous reaction.
I can feel the flush creeping into my cheeks and I’m embarrassed as hell. Not to mention furious at myself for the insane reaction, because only a few hours ago, this asshole almost blinded me.
I place my hand against that rock hard chest to push him away and I think I might just be imagining it, but I can swear that I can feel his heartbeat racing as fast as mine. I squash the thought immediately and remind myself that it’s impossible, because this asshole doesn’t have a heart.
“Get your hands off me, asshole,” I hiss. My voice is quiet, but everyone in the room hears it.
Just like that night after the ceremony, I expect him to be pissed at the insult. But he flashes me a cocky smile instead. Like a Cheshire cat. For a second, I find it hard to remember that this guy is the devil incarnate himself. I find it hard to even think. Because that smile. It takes my goddamn breath away. It’s the kind of smile capable of making even angels fall in love on the spot. The kind of smile that is capable of illuminating even the greyest of skies. Like the goddamn sun coming out after a storm, which is fitting, given that this asshole lords over the sun itself.
But when he opens his mouth, sense and reason return with a vengeance.
“Somehow, I’m finding it hard to believe that’s really what you want, Jaz,” he says, those luminous blue eyes traveling over every inch of my flaming face.
I can feel said flaming face burn even hotter in response, in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Because he’s right. My traitorous body is emitting all the wrong signals right now and I want nothing more than to set the record straight.
“That’s because you’re a delusional narcissist,” I retort. I hear a chuckle from somewhere in the living room, reminding me that we have an audience. But I couldn’t care less. Let them see me put this prick in his place.
Raph only smirks in response. Smirks. He’s clearly enjoying himself. But I’m not, and this conversation needs to be over. Now.
I’m also well aware that his arm is still wrapped firmly around my waist and I hate the fact that I can feel every ridge of chorded muscle, even through my blazer.
I open my mouth to make myself blindingly clear, ready to break his arm if that’s what it will take for him to let me go. But he’s already speaking.
“We’re having a party here later tonight.”
I stare back at him in silence, because I have no idea why he’s telling me this. I can tell nothing from his expression and for a split second, the ridiculous thought springs up in my mind that this is some kind of invitation.
But his next words make it crystal clear that it’s not. Not at all.
“You’re not invited,” he adds flatly, as if it’s obvious.
I have no desire to attend his stupid party. But still, his words feel like a slap to the face.
It’s enough to sweep away any lingering embarrassment or any other thought or feeling which isn’t hate, for that matter.
“Screw you, asshole,” I hiss, with enough venom that I feel him loosen his grip. Only slightly, but just enough.
He’s too distracted, by god knows what, to react when I shove him back so that he lands on his ass on the cold marble step.
I stalk up the rest of the steps, leaving Raph laid out on his ass in the same way that he laid me out on my ass in class earlier. But I don’t miss the hoots of laughter coming from Baron and Lance’s direction and Raph’s responding growl, telling them to shut the hell up.
I turn into the left wing hallway and something feels off, although I have no idea what. I try to shake off the irrational feeling. My nerves are probably still fried from that run-in with the king of all assholes.
But when I open the double doors to my suite, I find that the whisper of premonition was not unwarranted.
It takes a moment to register what I’m seeing. There are flyers plastered on the walls and what was once immaculately white marble has been replaced with pictures of naked women—escort flyers. Tits and ass. All over my walls. Every square inch.
I stand deathly still as the anger simmers in my veins, boiling over until it’s all I can feel and the lewd images plastered all over my walls blur into a haze of anger.
It’s eerily quiet in the halls. As if those bastards downstairs are gleefully listening, waiting to hear my reaction.
My mind brings up the image of Raph coming down the stairs earlier, that icy gaze burning through me as he caught me. Why he didn’t just let me fall, I have no clue, because clearly, he loves seeing me suffer.
That motherfucker.
But I stifle the scream of frustration that’s working its way up my throat and calmly walk across the hall towards the St. Tristan suite. The door is locked but I don’t let that stop me.
I kick the door down, surprised by my own strength. I guess what they say about anger and adrenaline is true—it really does give people superhuman strength.
I’m surprised that no one comes running upstairs at the loud bang. They probably think I’ve keeled over and died and there’s no way any of those fuckers downstairs would even consider rushing to my rescue. No, they probably can’t even imagine that I’ve just kicked down Raph’s door or what I’m about to do. That’s because they have no fucking idea who I am.
That same adrenaline pumps through me as I scan the room. It’s as large as my suite, larger maybe. It’s surprisingly tidy for a guy’s room and the whole place smells like him—citrus and cool winter mornings. It only fuels my anger. My gaze falls on the shelves lined with soccer trophies—way too many to be normal. I look at the plaques on some of the trophies – MVP, Arcadia High School League Cup, Eden High School League Cup and it goes on and on.
Well, well, well, I guess Dani was right—this asshole is some kind of soccer star. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face as I look across the room.
There’s a set of large double doors leading out to a balcony which overlooks the ocean. Perfect.
Armed with Raph’s precious trophies, I walk over to the French doors, fling them open and proceed to hurl each trophy out to sea. Every single one.
When I’m done with those, and the trophy shelf is satisfyingly bare, I grab an armload of Raph’s no doubt very expensive clothes and sneakers, then add those to the cargo now floating across the ocean.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing on the balcony with a face splitting grin on my face as I look out at the beautiful view—Raph’s precious belongings, scattered on the rocky beach beneath and floating out to sea.
I spend the next couple of hours trying to rid my walls of the flyers. But there’s way too many of them and the high ceiling makes it impossible to reach all the flyers without a ladder.
I finally give up just before midnight, staring hopelessly at the discarded flyers piled high at the center of my room, and the still covered ceiling and higher sections of the walls.
With the anger and adrenaline gone, I’m exhausted as hell and I want nothing more than to hide in my room forever. But the bass pounding through the very foundations of Sovereign Hall and the music blaring out at a merciless volume, makes sleep impossible. I don’t know how it’s even possible to hear the music from downstairs, when all the walls in the place seem to be made of marble.