“I went home first, but Ashton hit me and wouldn’t let me in,” he explains numbly. “After that, I just….”
His words fade away, his shoulders slumping, and though Grayson shakes with the cold, he makes no move to dry himself and get warm.
I’ve broken the dark prince of Albany. And strangely, the thought brings me no pleasure at all.
I don’t ask him where his father is or if he has any other family he can call. Instead, I take the towel I’d put down and continue to rub, stripping the rest of his clothes from his body until he’s in nothing but his boxers. Grayson watches me with a detachment I’ve never seen in him before, an emptiness which echoes my own. And as he slips into my bed that night, pulling the blanket I drape over him tightly around his shoulders, he doesn’t say a thing. But he doesn’t have to. I already know. Grayson’s paying for his father’s sins too.
And when I wake the next morning, he’s already gone, the only evidence he wasn’t a dream the crumpled, slight impression his body made on the bed next to me.
***
“Afternoon,” my mother says, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. “You’ll be pleased to know the Bishop debacle hasn’t hit the newspapers. Must have paid a pretty penny to keep it quiet.”
“Why would that please me?” I ask, while making myself a cup of tea. “The whole world can know what a scumbag he is for all I care.”
Glancing up, I catch my mother containing her anger—the clench of her jaw, the flare of her nostrils. For someone who has spent a good part of my childhood drumming the importance of etiquette into me, she sure is losing her cool lately.
“Rose, if the newspapers start sniffing around after this story, they’re going to want to find out who recorded the video, and the last thing we need is you being dragged into another scandal. We’ve nowhere else to run, Rose.”
Don’t I know it. “Can we at least save the panicking until it’s necessary?” I glance at my phone as it vibrates, finding a text from an unknown number. A second later another comes in from Isla. Ignoring hers, I open the unknown.
Penelope – Lunch and a spot of shopping? Be ready in 30 – Pen XO
I smile to myself, then look up to find my mother studying me. “Well if you’ll excuse me, Mother, I’m going to go make the most of this situation and do a spot of shopping.”
On my way to my bedroom, I read Isla’s message. Not that I’ll be replying and forgiving her anytime soon. There’s a lot more groveling in store for her if she ever wants to be anything but a nobody in Albany Nightingale.
Isla – Penelope asked for your number. Hope you don’t mind that I gave it to her. Clearly the gossip all over social media is true. I should have never underestimated you. Please forgive me, Rose. L xx
Half an hour later, I’m riding the elevator down to the foyer to meet Penelope and the rest of Sophia’s crew—who clearly aren’t her crew anymore—in knee-high boots, pantyhose, and a caramel-colored dress with long sleeves.
“Rose.” Penelope breathes her greeting as she leans in to air-kiss my cheek. “I love your dress.”
“Thanks.” I smile wide. “I must admit, I’m a little shocked you contacted me. I didn’t think Sophia liked me enough to do lunch.” She studies me, but I keep my expression as innocent as possible, batting my eyelashes for added measure.
Slipping her arm through mine, Penelope grins knowingly and turns me toward the rest of the girls waiting nearby. “Play dumb all you want, Rose, but we aren’t. You had something on Sophia and now the news of her not-so-pleasant affair has broken, and we’ve put two and two together.”
I greet the other girls with a smile. “It seems your queen wasn’t as innocent as she made out after all,” I murmur.
“It would appear not,” Penelope replies.
“Well, no one’s perfect, but still… Arthur Bishop.” I shudder as the group collectively “Eww” and giggle. “If she was going to fuck a Bishop, she should have least picked the hotter, younger son.”
“Grayson’s sexy,” Autumn replies, her dark red hair spun up into the perfect bun.
A murmured agreement spreads throughout the group as they close in around me.
“So, where too, Rose?” Penelope asks.
“Fifth Ave?”
She nods her approval, and together we walk out onto the street, Sophia’s former friends following us… following me.
We climb into the large limousine waiting outside, and I study them sitting around me as triumph fills my cold, dead heart.
Albany Nightingale has a new queen.
Let the fun begin.
Chapter 4
Grayson
Seconds pass as I blink the heaviness from my eyes and take in my surroundings, but it’s only when my gaze lands on Rose sleeping beside me, our hands millimeters apart—as if we have reached for each other in sleep—that the night before comes flooding back. Curling my fingers in on themselves, I resist the urge to touch her. Her short hair has fallen across her cheek, the duvet covering us, slipping below her shoulders and giving me the perfect view of her on her stomach, ample breasts pressing into the mattress.
The old Grayson would have woken her by now, slipped a hand down her body and caressed the curves that make my mouth water, but for the first time in my life, I don’t want to be my usual self. Rose is different. The Grayson I am with her is different. Sure, I’d love nothing more than to have my wicked way with her—I’ve not suddenly become a saint—but I also don’t want to ruin the budding friendship that’s begun between us.
Climbing silently from the bed, I tread carefully across the room to the bathroom. My clothes are on the floor where Rose left them after she stripped me, the towel she dried me with in a crumpled heap. She must be the first girl to have ever taken my clothes off and not done anything more.
Pulling on my damp trousers, I find my phone in my pocket and pull it out to find no missed calls or messages. A pang goes through me, my chest heavy. No one misses me. I’ll soon be seventeen and I’ve been looking after myself for years, yet the fact no one has noticed my absence hurts me more than I care to admit.
As I pull my sweater over my head, I recall the last conversation I had with my father. His utter lack of concern over what he’d done and the callous way he’d dismissed my anger as if I was overreacting.
“She came onto me, Grayson. Give me a break. I am a man after all.”
I’d laughed bitterly, shaking my head in utter shock.
“Things were finally good, Father, and you’ve messed it all up. Summer didn’t deserve this. What you’ve done is unforgiveable.”
His gaze had darkened, his mouth thinning into a hard line. “Go live with Summer then, if you love her so much.”
After those parting words, he’d climbed into his awaiting car and drove away, more than likely to meet with his lawyers and squash the scandal he’d created before it took flight. And I’d turned away, to find Ashton and Summer fleeing into a taxi, myself left alone on the crowded street, not important enough to care about.
I don’t recall walking to Rose’s, but I do remember Ashton punching me in the face and telling me I wasn’t welcome in my own home anymore. I remember the rage and hate in his eyes as he snarled that his mom didn’t want to see me anymore. I can’t imagine her actually saying those words; she’s treated me well since the moment she moved in, but maybe my presence would cause her pain. My face reminding her of my father and what he’s done, but maybe I’m fed up with not being wanted.
Leaving the bathroom, I spend a few moments more watching Rose sleep in the muted gray of the approaching dawn. I’ve no idea where I’m going next. All I know is I can’t be here when she wakes up. I can’t afford to be the Grayson Rose awakens in me. It’s better that I’m bad. That others see me as the devil. If I start to care, if I start to soften around the edges, my already difficult life will begin to eat away at me.
I can’t afford to feel. I can’t let Rose in.
Leaving Rose’s building, I walk
to my father’s hotel. A place I’ve lived in for as long as I can remember, and when the elevator opens onto the penthouse floor, I sneak quietly to my bedroom. Instead of sinking into my bed like I want to though, I collect a bag and begin to pack some clothes. I’m not stupid enough to believe Ashton will change his mind about my presence when he wakes up, leaving me with no choice but to find somewhere else to live. Zipping up the bag, I pick it up and sling it over my shoulder, and ride the elevator down to reception.
“Mr. Bishop, how can I help,” I’m greeted as I approach the front desk.
“I’d like a room for myself, please.”
“For how long, sir?”
“The foreseeable future,” I reply, the answer sitting heavy on my shoulders. I wonder how long it will take for someone to come looking for me?
If I looked on the bright side of things, I’d note how lucky I am my father owns this hotel, and I can book a room for however long I please without a question asked. If he didn’t, I might be out on the streets right now or worse, trying to track my father down. But I’m not an optimist. I’m the guy who twists and molds people for my own selfish desires. I wasn’t always like this. There was a time when my mother was still in my life that I had light in my world. But those years are gone, and I’ve been the dark prince of Albany for so long, I don’t know how to be anyone else.
The world expects me to be wicked, to manipulate and charm my way into any situation. I’m Grayson Bishop, son of one of the most powerful men in New York City, and it seems we’re as terrible as each other.
Chapter 5
Rose
Sophia isn’t at school on Monday. Rumor has it her parents have chosen to deal with their daughter’s indiscretions as quietly as possible. There’s nothing an Upper East-Sider hates more than a scandal worthy of dragging your good name through the mud.
The school is rife with gossip, the truth being stretched to farfetched proportions. At least five people have asked if it was me who leaked the video. I refuse to answer any questions, which is an answer in itself, but as long as the words “it was me” don’t slip from my lips, they’ve got nothing but suspicions and hearsay.
The general opinion of Sophia’s actions isn’t in her favor. The census being she’s a scheming whore, not satisfied with the stepson and going for the head of the Bishop family instead. And while Ashton hasn’t made any attempt to rejoin his usual spot with the elite, it isn’t because the student body has shunned him. In fact, most of the girls I’ve spoken to feel sorry for him—a few hopefuls dreaming of being the lucky lady to kiss his wounds. I’ve passed no comment on Ash myself, the confliction I have inside me is complicated enough without having to decide on his social status. I’m not sure what I’ll do if he approaches the royals table at lunch time: Allow him to take his usual seat or turn him away? My anger toward him is mixed with betrayal and heartache, and there is a part of me that would love nothing more than to banish him from the elites’ circle for good, yet my heart yearns for him all the same. I just hope he stays away. It’ll be easier that way.
The one person I wasn’t expecting to see at lunchtime though was Grayson Bishop, strolling into the courtyard with his usual bad boy flair, the smirk on his lips for me alone as he approaches our table. Excitement surges through the air, whispers and bated breathes.
The dark prince has balls, I’ll give him that.
Pausing before me, Grayson drops onto one knee, taking my hand as he does and bowing his head. “My Queen,” he purrs, much to the delight of the girls behind me.
I can’t help it; I smile. His father’s a disgrace. His name tainted. And here he is, as if none of it matters, bowing before me like we are in some medieval time and not high school.
He looks up, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes that sends a thrill to my core. The broken, numb, boy who shared my bed not so long ago is gone. He might have not existed at all, and though Grayson played a hand in my torment and his father’s involved in shocking gossip, I allow my smile to turn as devious as his. There is no light left in me anymore. Ashton made sure of that. And it seems wicked likes company.
“Get up, Gray,” I murmur.
Obeying, Grayson straightens to his full height. Looking down at me, he takes the hand he has in his and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “The crown looks good on you, Devenport.”
Tilting my head, I touch my imaginary crown. “It does, doesn’t it. Now, be a dear and fetch me some chocolate. I’m craving something sweet, and it’s a little lacking around here. Wouldn’t you say?”
He chuckles and with an incline of his head, turns away to follow my orders.
I think I’m going to like this.
“Are you not going to tell him to get lost?” Penelope whispers when I retake my seat beside her.
“No. Let’s see if the king of bad boys knows how to grovel first before we decide his fate.”
She laughs, her eyes widening as if she’s just beginning to see this side of me. And to be honest, I’m only just beginning to see it myself. I ruled in London, was often cruel, but this darkness seeping into my soul, it’s like nothing I’ve never felt before. I’m self-destructing. I don’t want to be who I was anymore—the girl who longed for Ashton, who was trod on and humiliated at every turn. I want to be bad. I want to be so dangerous no one ever dares cross me again. I’m going to rule Albany Nightingale with an iron fist. Sophia will seem like a kitten compared to me.
Grayson returns, chocolate cake in one hand, a wrapped chocolate bar in the other. If it bothers him, running around after me, like he’s made people do for him in the past, he doesn’t let on.
“Autumn, make room for Gray,” I instruct to the girl sat on my left. She does and Grayson sits with a murmur of thanks—another trait he isn’t known for. Clearly, Grayson is treading carefully after his father’s sins. “So, tell me, Gray,” I begin, leaning in slightly, “are the rumors really true?”
His eyes widen; he was never expecting me to mention his father. It’s quite thrilling to know I’ve shocked the devil’s son. “You saw the footage,” he answers carefully, his expression begging me to drop this.
But I’m not going to. This is payback. This is my chance to really make him regret trapping me in that room while I had paint and glue thrown at me. “Oh, I think we’ve all seen the video, but honestly, I couldn’t keep my focus on it for long. It appears I don’t have the hots for old men like Sophia does.”
Quiet laughter rumbles around me, Grayson’s face stone as he listens and watches.
“Videos can be doctored though, so I wanted to be sure the rumors were actually true, and who better to ask than his son?” I continue, smiling.
“It’s true,” he grinds out. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”
I tilt my head, smile innocently. “Oh? You don’t agree with your father’s actions then?”
The hand on the table in front of us curls into a fist, and his other below grips my knee almost painfully. “What do you want, Rose?” he asks, his voice tight.
Tapping my chin, I hum to myself, scanning the people around us to find them enjoying the show. “A cup of tea to go with this cake would be good. Thanks!”
For a second, I don’t think he’s going to obey. A flash of rage enters his gaze, his fingers digging into my leg enough that I have to force myself not to flinch, but then it all drains from his face, and I glimpse, for the tiniest of moments, the broken Grayson who came to me the other night.
My game suddenly isn’t as enjoyable anymore.
“Anything else?” Grayson asks as he stands to his full height.
“No, that’s all.”
Penelope nudges my elbow. “That was awesome.”
Shrugging, I pick up a fork and dig it into the chocolate cake. “Payback’s a bitch.”
“Sophia told me what they did to you,” Penelope whispers. “If you hadn’t had something to hold over her, she’d have spread it around the entire school.”
Lucky me.
�
�I’m sure she’s regretting her actions now,” I answer mildly, like I don’t have a care in the world, when beneath my skin I’m a withering mess.
A cup of tea lands beside my cake, cutting mine and Penelope’s conversation short, for which I’m relieved. I’d rather not recall the whole paint-glue incident.
“I wasn’t sure if you took sugar,” Grayson says as he sits, opening his palm to reveal two packets of sugar. “I’d say you were sweet enough, but like you said, it’s lacking around here.”
I take the sugar, meeting his gaze. “Sweetness is overrated.”
The rest of lunch passes with me forcing mouthfuls of chocolate cake down my throat, helped by the tea. While tormenting Grayson gave me momentary satisfaction, the truth is I don’t think I have the stomach for this life anymore. The problem is, I’m not sure how to get out or if it’s even possible. I’ve made my bed, and now I’ve got to lie in it.
***
Art was the one subject I’ve always loved throughout my school years, yet it’s become the one I dread the most. I never imagined they’d be someone with the power to dull my passion for it. That emotions could become so big they’d seep over and effect all aspects of my life, but my love and hate for Ashton are so closely intertwined, they’re becoming the same. And as he enters the classroom, the two emotions swirl inside me—a wall of fire allowing nothing else in.
My body reacts to his presence as if he is the air inside my lungs, but it takes only a second for him to be the reason the air can no longer get inside. He doesn’t look my way, but that doesn’t matter because in my mind, I see his cinnamon brown gaze from parents’ evening. The betrayal, the hurt, the disbelief. I relive the moment Ashton Cole began to hate me.
It’s a gaze that’s haunted my sleep and it is a gaze that both makes me want to cry and curse in outrage. He has no right to look at me that way. We are both as tainted as each other. He took the first shot; it’s not my fault I have better aim.
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 2