“Gray,” she mutters.
Since I can’t imagine even Grayson lowering himself to the level of buying booze for an alcoholic, I guess she means she raided his room. I’ve not been in it since I told him he wasn’t welcome here anymore, and as much as I detest him right now, I must admit it’s strange living in the penthouse without him.
“Get up,” I demand, pulling her upright. “I need you to get up and dressed right now. We’ve a lawyer’s appointment to get too.”
“I don’t want to go,” she mumbles, waving me away.
Desperation and hopelessness clash inside me, but they show as anger. As I find my emotions often do. Balling my fists, I tower over the bed and growl through gritted teeth. “God damn it, Mother, if you love me or Josh even a little, you’ll pull yourself together and do this for us. For yourself. So your husband is a cheating scumbag, so what? You knew that already; you knew who you were marrying, yet you did it anyway. So, no, you cannot stay in bed, because you’re a mother and you don’t have that luxury.” Exhaling loudly, I stare down at my mom as her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sixteen, Mom,” I say a little more calmly. “I don’t care what I promised, Dad. I can’t look after this family alone.”
Climbing to her feet, my mom sways slightly before reaching up and touching my face. “I’m sorry, Ash,” she whispers. “I’ll go get ready.”
While she does, I leave her bedroom and put through a call to the lawyer’s office to explain we’re running slightly behind schedule. I’m pretty certain his usual clients don’t arrive late, but when his receptionist shows us into his office thirty minutes later, he doesn’t say a word.
He must really hate Arthur Bishop. I’ve found the perfect guy to enact my revenge.
***
“I’m not sure about this,” my mom says quietly. We’re in the back of a taxi on our way home after the lawyer’s appointment. “Arthur’s offered a fair deal. We’ll be looked after for the rest of our lives if we live sensibly, and that’s all that matters really.”
“He cheated on you with my girlfriend, Mom. We want more than a fair deal.”
“Yes, but you heard what Mr. Johnson said. We need the evidence. It doesn’t matter that we and everyone else at the school saw the video; it isn’t enough. We’ll need the actual file.”
“And like I told him, I’ll get it,” I snap.
“But how, Ash?” It’s irritating she has so little confidence in my ability. My word should be enough. “Do you even know who leaked the footage?”
The car pulls to a stop outside our building, and before I climb out, I face my mother, my face hard. “I said I would sort it and I will. It’s my problem, not yours. All you need to do is stay sober. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Ashton,” she replies solemnly. I hate how I’ve become the adult in this situation. I shouldn’t need to be telling my mother to not drink or make any mistakes that could be used against her as an unfit mother.
But if there is anything the last few years have taught me, it’s life doesn’t give a crap if you’re a kid or not. It still throws shit at you and expects you to handle it.
Crash and burn or stand and fight. That’s all I have left.
Chapter 9
Rose
It took some time and a couple of drinks, but I’m finally beginning to enjoy this party. The apartment is heaving with anyone and everyone that matters at Albany Nightingale. My mother did not disappoint; our home is hardly recognizable. She’s moved furniture, created a dance floor with layers of sheer fabric and twinkling lights as the backdrop, and the caterers have out done themselves with the most delicious food. Guests mingle with glasses of brightly colored cocktails, and I’m surprised I didn’t get one complaint for her having to supply alcohol to minors.
I think it’s safe to say I’m about out of my “you’re a terrible parent” guilt for bribing what I want out of her.
“Come dance with me,” Penelope insists as she takes my hand and drags me to my feet. Laughing, I put my glass down on the nearest surface as she pulls me onto the dance floor. “This is the best party,” she exclaims loudly, making it clear she’s had a few more drinks than I have.
The beat of the music pulses through my blood as I twist my body around the dance floor, losing myself to the rhythm. Others sway around me, the heat of their bodies thick in the air adding to the dizzying effect the party is having on me.
Tipping my head back, I completely let go, uncaring of the firm hands that land on my hips and pull me flush against a hard wall of muscle. He reaches down and links his hands with mine, before tugging them up above my head. The beat pounds, the noise dulling my senses, and I turn in his hold to study the guy dancing with me. I know his face, but I can’t recall his name. He’s on the football team. I can remember that.
You really need to start memorizing people’s names, Rose.
Whomever he is, he knows how to dance. His movements are hypnotic, sensuous, and the heated look he gives me tells me he’d like more than a dance. He smiles seductively, his brown eyes dropping to my lips, and for a second, I think about letting him. I imagine closing the little space between us and taking this dance to an intimate level.
But as his hand slides up to hold my nape, guiding my face to his, someone collides into us, knocking me backward and sending several others to the floor.
Shouts are made, laughter erupts, and when I turn to find the person who nearly knocked me on my arse, I find Isla being helped back to her feet.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl.
But she’s too wasted to even register the anger in my voice.
“Rose!” She beams. “I’m so sorry. I lost really spectacularly at this drinking game earlier, and I feel a little tipsy.”
A little! I internally roll my eyes and resist the urge to sling her drunk arse across the room.
“You shouldn’t even be here,” I snap.
Her face crumples. “When are you going to forgive me?” she whines.
Grabbing her arm, I pull her forward, speaking low and harsh. “Maybe never.” Dragging her from the dance floor, I search the apartment as I head for the door.
“Grayson!” I call, snapping my fingers. “Get over here.”
Reluctantly, he winds his way through the party. “Yes, my queen,” he mocks, his eyes narrowed.
“Take her and make sure she gets out of the building and into a cab in one piece,” I order.
“And why am I being given menial tasks?”
I smile cruelly. “Because I haven’t finished tormenting you for the gala stunt, that’s why.”
We stare, locked in a battle of wills, but eventually Grayson lets out a long sigh before taking Isla off my hands. “This is the last time I roll over, Rose. My father might be a disgrace, but that doesn’t change who I am.”
I shrug, hiding everything behind false bravado. “We’ll see about that.”
“Rose,” Isla moans. “Please forgive me. I’ll do anything.”
I look her up and down. Maybe I am being too hard. I’ve more or less forgiven Grayson for what he’s done, but today won’t be the day Isla gets her redemption. “Try again in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll be in a better mood by then,” I reply, smiling sweetly as I give her a little wave.
Grayson shakes his head as he looks back, the expression on his face disbelief. “Sometimes, Rose, you’re as wicked as me.”
Leaning back against the doorframe, I shut the party out by pulling the door to as the smile drops from my face. “Yeah, but I was made this way.”
A sad smile plays on his lips, before he turns away, and though Grayson doesn’t answer back, I know his answer anyway… so was I.
Walking back into the apartment, I rest against the closed door, studying the party I’ve now lost the stomach for. I can’t forgive Isla and it’s not because what she did was inexcusable, but because it was the least expected. I’d thought she was my friend—a true friend. One who wouldn’t stab me in the back, but in the end, a
ll Isla managed to do was remind me that no one can be truly trusted.
My home is full of students from my school. They’ve all entered my party with a hug or friendly smile as if we’re lifelong friends, but I’m not sure one of them would have my back if the occasion arose.
In London, I’d tricked myself into believing Clare and Luke would stick with me through thick and thin, which made their betrayal all the more hurtful. At Albany, I’d be stupid to make the same mistake, even if I could convince myself any of these people could be real friends. The tinted glasses are off, and I’m left with a harsh black-and-white reality.
There is no room for weakness here. There is no chance to lower your guard, and as the days slip by into a relentless cycle, I’m more and more desperate for a way out.
“I’ll take one of those,” I say, stepping forward quickly to pluck a drink from a passing waiter. “Two actually.”
The waiter eyes me as I down the first and replace it back on her tray, before raising the second to my lips for a more sedate sip.
“You can go now,” I inform her, waving her further into the party. And as I step to head into the mass, I hear a knock at the door.
That was quick, Gray. Retracing my steps, I pull open the door. “There’s no way you got her—” My words die in my mouth. “Ash,” I breathe.
He eyes me head to toe, and I’m immediately grateful I picked the dress that hung low on my chest and sat short on my legs. Two seconds pass where I can feel the heat between us—our need to touch, our desire to let everything go and melt until we are one.
But as bright as our fire burns, it is just as quickly put out. His eyes flicker behind me as he says, “I need to talk to you alone.”
My heart flutters in my chest, but my brain stopped listening to the stupid organ a while back. He might want me, but he still hates me.
Straightening, I carefully wrap myself in a façade of indifference and sass. “As you can see, I’m a little busy right now.”
His jaw clenches. “I need the video, Rose,” he answers, with cold, stoic words.
We stare, any warmth between us vanishing. Hatred narrows my eyes as hollowness aches inside me. But my hate is a mask covering the true feelings I keep below. Because as much as I loathe him, I’ll always love Ashton Cole. And love and hate straddle a fine line, until they could almost be the same.
Tonight though, with alcohol buzzing through my veins and the drum of the party behind me, his words don’t truly sink in. I’ve enough armor around me to fight the chaos that threatens to consume me under my skin.
Forming a smile, I eye him top to bottom as if he is meaningless. “If you want it, you’ll have to ask nicer than that,” I purr, reaching out and trailing a finger up his chest.
Ashton tenses, his gaze becoming unreadable. “What have you done to yourself?” he rasps.
“Me?” I gasp, shocked. My lips forming a hard line as I point an angry finger at him. “You did this, and I hope it haunts you every night.” I sway, reaching for the doorframe to steady myself as my emotions and the alcohol swirling through my veins smash together.
“Rose?” Grayson murmurs, stepping out of the elevator and marching passed Ashton to my side. “Everything all right?”
He places a gentle hand on my spine and his touch shatters my defenses, leaving me exposed, reeling, gasping against the need to cry.
Time stops. Ashton searches my face and as I hold my breath, I wait for him to reach out for me and make it all okay. All I want is for him to close the miles between us and take back the words he’s said. To just be Ash and Rose and nothing more, but the wall between us is too high to climb, and as Grayson slips his arm further around me, tugging me to his side, the cinnamon brown eyes I loved so much darken with bitterness.
“It was a mistake to come here,” he says flatly, before walking away.
And though I know I shouldn’t, I seek comfort from the only source available to me and turn into Grayson’s embrace as hot, painful tears spill down my face.
Chapter 10
Grayson
As she turns into my body, a heartbreaking sob leaves her. Holding her tighter, I look up over her head to find Ashton watching us as he waits for the elevator. He glowers as he meets my gaze, and I return the stare with as much anger. She wouldn’t need to cry in my arms if he wasn’t being such an asshole.
His life is in shambles at the minute and Rose helped that along, but Ashton knew what he was getting into when he accepted his position at Albany Nightingale. We took a swing at Rose and she retaliated back; it’s the way of our world. It’s not Rose’s fault her shot did more damage.
I suppose I should hate her for the video—a video she hasn’t publicly put claim to, but it could have only been her—but I don’t. I admire her. She was dragged down and she fought back. It doesn’t matter if I was one of those who attempted to destroy her. If I’m honest, it just makes her all the more attractive.
“Don’t cry, Rose,” I whisper, dipping my head toward her ear. Shuddering, she breathes deep, before pulling back slightly to see my face. “You shouldn’t be crying at your own party.”
A reluctant smile tugs up her lips, and it scares me how much that simple act makes me feel. “I hate that he gets to me so easily,” she murmurs sadly.
“Forget him. He’s not worth it.” But I know my words aren’t really true. They love each other; it was obvious from the first day. Ashton might have denied knowing her, but before he’d gotten a handle on his emotions, it had been right there on his face for me to see.
Even if Rose hadn’t been the daughter of the man who screwed over my uncle, she’d have never been accepted. Sophia would have made sure of it. Or tried at least, because as recent history showed, Rose isn’t as easy a target as we’d all thought.
Reaching up between us, Rose brushes the tears clinging to her cheeks away as the emotions fade from the depths of her eyes. “Make me forget, Gray. Please, just make me forget.”
My dick hears her words first, stirring to life as my gaze drops to the very low neckline of her dress. But then my brain kicks in and I hesitate. She doesn’t want me. She wants Ashton, and that hurts more than I care to admit.
And since when have we cared about things like that? a voice whispers into my mind, which more likely belongs to the eager thing in my pants. It does have a point though. I’m Grayson Bishop, the playboy everyone loves to hate. Emotions have never been something to stop me before and they won’t be now.
My hands drift down her body to her hips, my fingers splaying out over the curve of her ass as I tug her toward me. “Are you sure?” I ask, low and rough.
Resolve fills her gaze. “I want to forget he even exists.”
I smile darkly, allowing all I am to the surface and regard her with wicked intent. “Then you’ve come to the right guy.”
Slipping my hand into hers, I lead Rose back into the party and across the apartment to her room. If anyone notices, they don’t stop us. Once I have her safely inside, the noise from outside is a distant hum.
She smiles, stepping back as I stalk toward her until her legs hit the end of her bed.
“Take your dress off,” I command, hunger coursing through my blood. I’ve wanted Rose for a while, craved the one girl who turned me down again and again.
Slipping one strap from her shoulder, she moves to the other side and does the same, her dress falling away to reveal breasts I’ve dreamed of biting. A little wiggle of her hips and it’s falling fully to the floor, a dark pool at her feet.
“Bed,” I rasp, desperate to get my hands on her naked skin.
And because I’m a dick, I strip myself of my own clothes and climb onto the bed above her and do everything I can to make her scream my name instead of his. I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I’d rather be known as the dark prince than admit I have feelings her. And the truth of the matter is, it’s never felt so good to be bad.
Chapter 11
Rose
> Drawing circles on his bare stomach, I lie with my head on his chest, listening to his still galloping heart, high from the pleasure Grayson has inflicted on my body.
For all his faults, Grayson Bishop won’t ever be accused of being bad in bed. The guy knows how to make a girl scream, that’s for sure.
“This isn’t normally part of the deal,” Grayson mutters as he runs a hand through my hair.
Shifting slightly, I meet his gaze. “What isn’t?”
“This.” He eyes me draped over his chest. “Cuddling.” He says it like it’s the dirtiest word in the world. As if the mere sound of it might set us on fire.
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re a man of many hidden layers, Grayson Bishop.”
“Is that good or bad?” he asks, continuing to play with my hair. For someone who acts as if he doesn’t like getting cozy after sex, he sure seems to be getting into it.
Laying my head back down, I carry on tracing patterns over his skin. “Not decided yet.”
It’s strange being in this position with him. We aren’t really friends. There’s been moments when I think we could be friends, but those times never last long with Grayson. And yet lying naked with him isn’t wrong either. He’s an escape, a means to fill the void inside me, though deep down I actually like him. Dark prince qualities and all.
Our time together was nothing like it ever was with Ash. Grayson brought me to heights I’ve never been, gave me a distraction I’ve been craving for a while, but my heart wasn’t involved in any of it. Grayson had my head and my body, but my heart belongs to Ash.
Silence hangs between us as we slowly come down to earth. Our breathing evens out, and as I lay nestled against his side, I find myself thinking back to the last time I shared a bed with Grayson. The night he’d come to me broken in a way I’d never imagined he’d be capable of being.
Grayson hides himself from everyone, and even himself.
“Are we ever going to talk about the last time you were here?” I ask softly, not daring to look up and see what emotion hides in the depth of his dark eyes.
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 4