by Mallory Fox
After a few slow breaths, I’m back in control.
Nicole, though, she is such a fucking liar. She told me it was over… that it never even got started. Bullshit. We’re in the middle of a fucking hostile take-over and she’s sleeping with the enemy. It occurs to me that I’m close to considering doing just that with Pearl, but it’s not the same. Pearl isn’t integral to the acquisition, so me fucking her won’t screw up our bid. At least not that I know of.
I glance back through the window of the pub where Graham Darlington’s stuck up, virginal daughter is drinking my whisky and waiting for me to come back and finish what I started.
I promised her shame, humiliation, pain and regret. What she doesn’t know is that I wasn’t joking when I promised her all that. Not at all.
I open my phone again and speed dial Jonesy.
“Actually, there’s one more thing you can do for me.”
Chapter 6
Pearl
A bell tolls. Light pierces my eyelids. There’s an undeniable pounding in my skull that won’t go away. Dry mouthed, I blink my eyes open and glance around. I’m lying alone in a king-sized bed. Though I’m not in my quarters, the layout and furnishings I recognize as part of Ravenwood. The question is… whose room at Ravenwood?
Soft, muted blue and grey cotton sheets that aren’t mine envelope me from all sides. There’s a familiar scent to the sheets, of bergamot and citrus, that call back memories of the night before when I was wearing Seth’s sweater.
This is his bed.
I’m in Seth’s fucking bed.
Panic surges and I check to make sure I’m alone and not completely naked. But the bed is empty. I still have my basic, black, designer two-piece on. It’s probably not the best underwear to be seen in, but I’m covered in all the areas that matter. Thank fuck for that.
All the bullshit from yesterday comes flooding back and I want to bury myself under this duvet and never come out.
If only life could be so easily navigated. Okay. One step at a time. I need to get out of here and get back to my house before anyone sees. But first…
I struggle to sit up. Where the hell are my clothes?
“Finally, you’re awake.”
Seth—hair wet from showering, white shirt open to reveal his glorious chest—walks into the bedroom from the en-suite bathroom. I’m suddenly aware of my own heartbeat and just how naked I really am. He stands in front of the mirror, buttoning his shirt and then tucking its tails into his trousers, and finally knotting his cravat. I catch his gaze on me in the reflection of the mirror.
His eyes, intense and bluer than the morning sky, radiate superiority. “You’re welcome to stay but I have feeling you might want to get dressed. The cleaner will be here soon. She takes offense when girls loiter and she can’t make my bed properly.”
Memories of last night… drinking in the pub, Seth’s hands under my skirt while we drank a copious amount of whisky, Seth ordering a cab, me passing out on the journey home in the back seat while he held me in arms, all flash into my mind. What happened after that? I don’t remember coming back to his room but clearly, I must have.
Through the mirror, Seth’s eyes trace over my entire body. I pull my knees up and yank the covers up further as the tangle of emotions I’m feeling become a thick knot deep inside my stomach.
Shit show.
This is an undeniable shit show.
And Seth has no clue yet that I’m about to become his damn stepsister.
I glare at him. “What did you do?”
He runs his hands through his damp hair, making it even more perfect than it already is. “To you? Nothing you didn’t beg me for, princess. Don’t worry. Your virtue is safe. I’m not desperate enough to take advantage of girls in my care who pass out blind drunk.”
“Why bring me here then? You could have taken me back to Windsor House,” I say, my words coming out strangled, although the relief is real.
Last night was a mistake. That’s all. One tiny mistake. And it’s not like anything even happened.
“And face an irate House Mistress? No, thank you. Anyway, you asked to stay.”
“Like fuck I did. Can you bring me my clothes?”
He sighs. “They’re on the chair over there if you want them. Anything else you need? Shall I call the maid to bring you breakfast in bed?”
I flick my gaze upward and then eye my clothes across the room folded on the seat of a chair. My books are neatly stacked on the floor next to them.
“Fine. I’m getting up. Can you not look?”
“There’s nothing you have that I didn’t see last night,” he says as he starts shrugging on his blazer. I slide out of the bed, the blush creeping over my whole body as I walk over to where my clothes are. I’m aware of his eyes following me across the room.
Suddenly, a second bell tolls loudly from the central courtyard.
“Shit, is that morning bell? What time is it?”
“It’s the second bell. You have about,” he looks at his watch, “Oh, ten minutes until class starts.”
“Fuck, why didn’t you wake me?”
He smirks as he opens the entrance door to his suite of rooms. “And miss all this fun?”
“You did this on purpose.” I glare at him, pulling my shirt and skirt on as quick as I can. Being late I can handle, it’s someone seeing me emerging from Seth’s rooms that bothers me more. The fucker waited until the halls are going to be practically teeming with students leaving for class or heading for a late breakfast.
He still has no idea.
He opens the door for me after I grab my books and blazer, and locks up behind us. I’m resisting the urge to make a run for it. So far so good, his house is practically empty as we make our way downstairs. Noises and muffled talking from the kitchen has me bolting out the front door as soon as I get to the entrance hallway. Seth doesn’t bother to say goodbye and nor do I, as if we can’t get away from each other quick enough. Then I’m speed-walking through the gardens that surround Coldhart house and running for Windsor.
* * *
The girls’ house is situated on the west side of campus next to the Provost’s garden. Since there’s not enough girls to fill the whole house, we’ve each got the best suite of rooms on the top floor and don’t have to share. Mine is by far the biggest, located right at the very end of the upper corridor, overlooking the college fields. Dark wood panelling and heavy beams give the house an old-fashioned look, and from the minute I step inside and close the door behind me, I find it depressing.
I quickly undress and jump into the shower, not bothering to wash my hair. Then I get changed into a fresh uniform trying not to stand on the carpet in my bare feet.
I don’t like that my room used be a boy’s. Whoever cleaned it after they were reallocated didn’t do a thorough job. I’m really not good with dirt. And it’s not every day you find a used condom behind your bathroom sink. I spent most of the first evening here cleaning every inch of the room just to get it the way I wanted it.
I’m finishing the touch ups on my make-up when there’s a knock at the door.
It’s Flick. She rushes into the room and gives me a huge hug.
“What are you doing?” I say as I let go of the door so it swings shut.
“Checking to see if you’re okay. You didn’t answer your phone last night.”
My phone? I let go of Flick and reach into my blazer pocket as it hangs on the back of the chair. It’s as dead as dodo, completely out of battery. I plug it in and wait for it to start up.
“Where were you last night? You didn’t join us for dinner. Lottie thought you’d been kidnapped but then Josh saw you go off with Seth, so we figured…” She trails off.
“I went out with Seth to talk about the acquisition.” The lie slips off my tongue easily as I take a seat back at my dressing table to finish applying mascara.
Flick comes over to where I’m sitting and perches on the end of the divan. Her brows are knitted and there’s a loo
k of concern in her green eyes. “Pearl, are you going to tell me what really happened?
“Nothing happened?”
“But you didn’t come back last night and…” she falters to a stop.
“Flick, just come out with it,” I say, adding a sweep of eyeliner. It’s a bit much for a school day but even if the world is falling apart, I want to look good.
Her eyes dart about the room until finally settling on me. “Pearlie, don’t be mad, but there are rumors circulating about you and Seth. Josh saw you, and one of the choral girls—Heather, I think her name is—well she said there’s an article about your father and Seth’s mother. I don’t know if it’s true, but…” She stops talking when she sees my face.
“Flick, I already know about the article.”
“Oh, good. So it’s true? Seth is your stepbrother?”
“Well, obviously not yet,” I say, brushing my fingers through my hair.
“Is it weird, that he’s like family now?”
I glance at her through the mirror. “Flick, can we talk later? It’s quarter past nine so we really should get to class.”
“Oh shit, sorry! I’m just so hyper since I forgot my meds this morning. Blanche forgot to pack a strip in my pencil case, so I came back to get my spares. You know I think she has it out for me since I tried to get her fired that one time.”
“Flick?”
“Yes, I’m leaving. Bye, Pearlie, see you at lunch.” She gives me a hug and leaves.
My phone buzzes for the hundredth time.
Ignoring the surprised look of the teacher, I get up and leave the classroom. No one questioned why I almost missed English Literature this morning and now no one questions me leaving French class in the middle of a lesson. I wasn’t expecting them to. Even if I didn’t have my father’s rats in my pocket, there’s been a Darlington on the board of Ravenwood long since the school was established. So, in effect, I do own the school. Who needs a bully romance when you have real life?
I wasn’t paying any attention in French anyway. Sitting only a few desks away from Seth was giving me goosebumps. I’d look anywhere but at him and at the same time be hyper aware of his every move and every breath.
I just had to get out of that classroom.
If only to kill the feeling of dying.
Because that’s what’s happening. The old Pearl is dying, bit by bit, mostly brought on by consuming too much alcohol, and the new Pearl emerging is hot mess.
All morning, my fingers have been itching to pick up my phone and check if the article has made the online version of the Inquirer. The print version went out early and a copy was on my bed when I entered the room. Thankfully, not many students here read the Inquirer and for those that do, I managed to get the post room to lose all copies but mine.
Outside the classroom in the hallway is a courier, who looks up expectantly.
“Pearl Darlington?”
“That’s me.”
“Thank god for that, I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day. Here, this is for you.” He hands me a beautifully embossed envelope with my name inked in calligraphy on the front of it.
“Do you know if Seth Montford is in your class?”
“He is.”
“Can you give this to him? I can’t get hold of him on the phone.”
He hands me a second envelope with Seth’s name written on it exactly the same way as mine. After the courier leaves, I half rip off the envelope of mine to reveal a cream and gold embossed card. I stare it dumbfounded for a few minutes reading the cursive handwriting of who I can only assume is Nicole Montford.
Bloody hell, it’s real. It’s happening.
Unsure what to do, I stand in the hallway for a few more minutes staring out the window. I’m way too amped up to go back inside and do any more French. My head is still throbbing and now I have a shooting pain behind my right eye. I need to go and lie down. I should also get some painkillers. Screw staying in class.
But Seth is back in the classroom with a seat free next to him, and I should really deliver his invitation to our parents’ wedding to him before the news breaks and everyone and his dog knows.
I check my reflection in the glass of the door before making a grand entrance midway through some sort of test. Everyone in the classroom looks up as I enter, including Seth. Our eyes meet for a split second and my traitorous heart leaps in my chest to see how beautiful he is, staring back at me. But as soon as I glare at him, he shakes his head and goes back to his test. Something about the way he looks at me is different. The intensity is gone, the wolf-like hunger.
It’s too late. He already knows.
A few of the students snigger, some of the boys at the back make crass comments. Flick looks apologetic and Charlotte is unreadable. The other girls who are known gossips, Cora, Heather, Veronica, Erica… all whisper between themselves.
They all know…. about my father, and where I stayed last night.
In my stepbrother’s fucking bed.
My face and neck feel impossibly hot, and all of a sudden, I feel light-headed. But I’ll be dammed if I let him get to me like this.
Teeth gritted, ignoring the lot of them, I walk back to my desk and pick up my books. Then I walk to where Seth is sitting, straight to the empty seat beside him and sit down. This all creates another flurry of whispers.
But I don’t give a fuck. Seth’s mother is the one shacking up with my father. He should have to deal with the drama of this shit show too.
One of Seth’s asshole friends, the one with the tattoos and a possible STD, makes a crude comment about me keeping it in the family and the entire class erupts into laughter.
The professor’s brow creases, and she looks over the class until they hush. She then glances at me expectantly and, rising to the occasion, I reel off in perfect and detailed French that I had an emergency call with my lawyer over a family matter and offer her an apology for missing her delightful class—well, that shuts her up. My real mother, most probably turning in her grave at this fucked up situation, was French, I do not need this class.
Most of the students in the room are still staring so hard I can feel their eyes on me. I shrug them off and open my books. But Seth is a harder nut to crack. I glance at him and I’m rewarded with a view of his pretty French handwriting and an equally pretty profile. I practically toss the envelope at him and he doesn’t react. In fact, he doesn’t even look my way after he opens it and reads what his deranged mother has to say.
My eyes bore right into him as he offers me a conciliatory glance. “She sent one to me too. Did you know?”
“I knew,” he says, eyes like steel flints as they finally regard me fully.
“And by not telling me, were you expecting to gain the upper hand?” I say under my breath, half focusing on the French in front of me.
His look darkens. “I could say the same to you.”
No, I’m not playing his game. “How long have you known?”
“I’ve known for a while, actually,” he says nonchalantly. His eyes roam over me like he’s assessing the temperature of my reaction. If I could punch him, knock him out, and get away with it, I fucking would.
My brain chooses at that moment to throb with pain, making me wince. “And you still did what you did last night? Everyone is going to be talking about it.”
He shrugs, lip curled into what I can only assume is a smirk. “You weren’t complaining.”
I curse under my breath and look away, refocusing on the test paper I haven’t even started to fill in. “You are such an utter asshole. I can’t wait to see your face when your precious acquisition falls through.”
“If we lose majority share, we won’t hold back.”
My eyes flick to him. “Is that a threat, Montford? You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a toss.”
“Good, because I’m not in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress. Last night was your one and only token of goodwill.”
“Token?” I almost choke. “Last n
ight you were anything but a gentleman.”
He scoffs. “I barely touched you. You, on the other hand, were on your knees, practically begging me to let you suck me off,” he says in a low voice. “I could have ruined you, darling.”
“You’re lying,” I hiss.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and slides it over to me. On the screen is a picture of me lying artfully on his bed in my matching black lingerie set with my hair in disarray all around me. There’s a look on my face that can’t be mistaken for anything innocent, and my own hand nestles under my panties and between my legs.
I stare at him, almost shaking. “You set me up.”
“There’s more to the video, but this timestamp is my all-time favorite,” he says, eyes as cool as the coldest ocean.
At the word ‘video’ my mind flips out and my breathing all but stops.
The punishment for not answering Seth’s question comes back to haunt me.
Do something shameful and enjoy it.
Only, I was so drunk by then I did not know he was taking pictures, let alone filming. He wasn’t even in the room, if I remember. He left because I wouldn’t do something shameful in front of him. I didn’t even know why the hell I was doing it. Only that I was horny as hell at his challenge and being in his bed turned me on way too much. This is what happens when I drink whisky.
“This proves nothing. All it says is that you had me in a compromising position. You could go to jail for this,” I snap back.
“There’s nothing in those pictures that incriminates me. You, on the other hand…” he doesn’t finish but the ugly twist of his mouth is enough.
“How did you even…” I can’t finish. I actually don’t want to know. I look away from the screen, ignoring the crimson heat blooming in my cheeks at the thought of Seth watching a secretly filmed video of me getting myself off.
Seth eyes are dark and full of promise for darker things to come. “Shame, humiliation, pain and regret. You wanted to play, so we played.”