by L. A. Sable
“This is your only warning, baby slut. You and your gold-digging mother aren’t welcome here. As much as I’d like to keep you around for more earthly pleasures, your type doesn’t get to marry into the family. If I see you again, things will get very bad for you so I suggest you go back to wherever you came from. Otherwise, I’m making it my personal mission to make you leave.”
He kisses me hard, in a way that’s like an attack as if he wants to chew me up and spit me back out. To my endless shame, my knees go weak and I don’t immediately push him away.
And then he releases me as suddenly as he had taken hold. The evil glare on his face morphs into a mocking smirk, as if he’s put on a mask made of someone else’s face.
He strides away with his hands stuck in his pockets and whistling a jaunty tune, as if the threats from moments ago are a figment of my imagination.
Even though I don’t know his name or who he is, I recognize that I should be very afraid of him.
I run for the chapel and throw the doors open just in time to witness the tail end of Trish’s vows. Tears obscure my vision as I watch her share a chaste kiss with Carter. An icicle of dread and fear pierces my heart just as they’re pronounced man and wife.
And even in that moment, I can’t possibly know just how bad things will get.
Chapter 2
I can’t stop the flare of betrayal that I feel when Trish has the apartment packed up and all of our belongings shipped to the Bellamy family compound in Connecticut. We’ve been living in the same apartment since I was six years old. All our memories were there and now we’re just moving on.
I hate it.
On some level I recognize that the move is inevitable. As flighty as Trish can be sometimes, she isn’t going to let her sixteen-year-old daughter live in the city by herself. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to change her mind.
And I haven’t forgotten the scarily gorgeous guy who threatened me at her wedding. The last thing I want is to ever run into him again. I still have no idea who he is and I can only pray that it stays that way.
“Couldn’t I just come up to Greenwich on the weekends and stay in the apartment during the week? It’s like an hour by train.” I yell over the wind as we drive in her ancient Ford Mustang convertible up I-95.
Trish sighs and adjusts the designer sunglasses she’s wearing that make her look like a giant dragonfly. “We agreed that you could have the rest of the summer to spend time with your friends and say goodbye while I was on my honeymoon. School starts up again next week, so now it’s time. Sorry, babe.”
“You know how unfair this is, right?” I ask in a huff. “You’re making me switch high schools in my junior year. It will be a huge pain in the ass.”
“Watch that potty mouth, girlie.” Trish murmurs, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes.
Like always, she insists on driving with the top down even on the highway. The high wind sends her blonde hair flying back behind her like a banner, making her look like something out of a 90s movie about California surfer girls. By contrast, my much darker and curlier hair always whips around my face like a cyclone so I look like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel. So not cute.
“Ass, ass, ass,” I repeat just to be obnoxious. Trish will get her way like she always does, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy. Never making things easy is sort of my thing. “I might get the word tattooed on my forehead.”
Trish just rolls her eyes, like I’m a baby throwing a tantrum and she’ll prove she’s the adult by being endlessly patient. “If that’s what makes you happy, babe. Sounds like a good way to get back at me for sending you to the best private school in the entire country.”
Black Lake Preparatory Academy.
Not only is it one of the most academically rigorous private boarding schools in the country, but also among the most exclusive. Some of the richest families on planet Earth send their kids to Black Lake Prep. They have a nearly 100% placement rate at the country’s most elite colleges and at least two former presidents are counted among the alumni. I’m going to stand out there like a thumb that’s been sewn onto the wrong hand.
“I was perfectly fine at P.S. 119.”
“Perfectly fine? Please. I couldn’t even get them to treat your dyslexia until you’d already almost failed the seventh grade. That place was a cesspool.”
I don’t like the reminder of how much I struggled in school before I got an official diagnosis. It wasn’t that long ago I’d been convinced that I was just too stupid to make it through school. Even with the treatment that put me back on grade level, I still struggle sometimes with reading things quickly. And you will never catch me reading out loud in front of anyone. It’s just too embarrassing.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Didn’t a kid bring a gun to school last year?”
“It was a BB gun,” I reply, waving that away. Trish acts like public school is a war zone, but she’d been perfectly happy to send me there before meeting her billionaire. “And he didn’t even make it past the metal detectors before he got tackled by a resource officer.”
“That’s not how I remember hearing it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just want to be around normal kids.”
“And what makes you think the kids at Black Lake Prep aren’t normal?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. Trish sounds like she actually believes what she’s saying. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that their average net worth is greater than the GDP of most African nations.”
“You can have money and still be normal, you know.”
“Ha, prove it.”
Trish drums her fingers on the steering wheel and glances over at me, gaze unreadable through the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses. “Your attitude is what will make the difference, girl. If you decide to go into this hating everything, you’re only going to make yourself miserable.”
I can’t help but think back to that guy at the wedding. It doesn’t seem like I’m the only one hell bent on making me miserable. “If you say so.”
“And like you said, the city is only an hour away by train. You’ll be able to go back and see your friends as often as you want. It’s not like we’re sending you to Siberia.”
Trish doesn’t understand. Because she’s the person who can say without irony that high school was the best four years of her life. Between being elected homecoming queen, voted most likely to succeed and the hundreds of smiling photos of her in the yearbooks that she still keeps in pristine condition tucked away in the same storage boxes as my baby pictures, it’s obvious that her high school experience was very different from mine.
I’ve always been sort of a nonentity, never the person who makes any real impression. While I always had someone to sit with at lunch or willing to be my lab partner, I’m not under the mistaken impression that anyone from P.S. 119 will really miss me. People at school were friendly, and I wasn’t some social outcast, but that doesn’t mean anyone will really care that I’m gone. I fade into the background and that doesn’t really inspire the sort of forever friendships that Trish is talking about.
“How about we plan a shopping spree before you leave for school?” she asks, voice artificially bright as she nudges me with her shoulder. “I’ll let you buy whatever you want, even a leather bustier.”
As if I would ever be caught dead in a bustier, leather or otherwise. “Don’t they wear uniforms at Black Lake?”
“Not in the evenings or on weekends. Then you can wear whatever you want.”
Because, of course, she has me boarding at the school even though it’s only about thirty minutes away from the house in Connecticut. I know Trish just wants to make sure I have every opportunity to fit in with the yuppies, but it still feels like I’m being abandoned.
“I don’t need any new clothes.”
“Oh my God, Lily. Nobody shops because they need new clothes. It’s a form of therapy. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
I cross my arms ove
r my chest, fighting off a sudden headache. “School starts on Monday, there won’t be enough time.”
“We’ll make time,” Trish’s voice is sweetly cajoling. She will say almost anything at this point to cheer me up. “There’s a platinum card in my purse calling your name.”
It’s hard not to point out how little I want to spend her new husband’s money. I hate the idea that people think that’s what this is all about. Trish isn’t like that, at all. Despite the lavish trips and expensive wedding, she still drives the same car she bought herself by working a part-time job in high school. And even though she’s accepted the gifts that Carter has offered, she’s never asked for anything. She loves him because he treats her better than any other man ever has. The money is totally secondary to that.
But I don’t feel entitled to any of it. Even though I know Trish’s good fortune is mine by extension, I’m not comfortable taking any more than I absolutely have to.
Even the thought of how much the tuition at a place like Black Lake Prep must cost sets my teeth on edge. I don’t want to take anything from anyone that I haven’t earned.
And there’s no point in trying to get Trish to understand that.
When we finally pull up the long private road to the Bellamy family home for the first time, I’m at a complete loss for words. Because this isn’t a house, it’s a mansion that’s bigger than anything I’ve ever even imagined. There are museums in Manhattan that take up less square footage than this place.
Both of us fall silent as Trish navigates the Mustang into the curved driveway that leads to the front entrance. Large stone columns stand on either side of the grand doorway like something out of ancient Greece. The rumbling engine seems particularly loud in the silence, we’re far enough from the main road that any passing cars are completely inaudible.
The double doors fly open the moment that Trish kills the engine, and Carter appears in the open doorway as if he’d been waiting for us. Trish lets out a sequel and bounds out of the car towards him like they’re reuniting after months spent apart.
Really, it’s only been a couple of days.
I wouldn’t have believed that it was possible for my mom to act like a schoolgirl over a man thirty years her senior, but that’s exactly what I’m seeing with my own eyes. Trish doesn’t have it in her to play at emotions, she’s always worn her heart right on her sleeve. And she truly seems to love her new husband, despite the age gap and how different their lives have been up to this point. I don’t have any choice but to accept it and try to be happy for her, despite the upheaval their relationship has caused in my own life.
Getting out of the car more slowly, I follow her up the driveway, maintaining a respectful distance while they greet each other like long-lost lovers. It’s not like I want to watch my mother make out with anyone, but that goes double for the new step-dad that’s old enough to be my grandfather.
“Lily.” Carter’s smile is warm but restrained as he holds up an arm to wave a hand in greeting. “It’s so nice to see you again. I hope the trip up wasn’t too bad.”
“Oh, you know how she is,” Trish says with a conspiratorial tone that’s deliberately loud enough for me to hear. “Lily can always find something to complain about if she puts her mind to it.”
“She and Asher have that in common,” Carter replies with a jovial smile. “Maybe they’ll distract each other and keep us out of it.”
I ignore the fact that they’re making fun of me even as my teeth grind together. It might not be the worst thing in the world to go off to Black Lake and get away from Trish for a while. As much as I love her, sometimes I really want to wring her neck. “Who’s Asher?”
“My grandson,” Carter answers as he gestures for us to come inside. “He’s not enough of a gentleman to come offer to help with your bags, but he’s around here somewhere. You’ll meet him soon, he’ll be in the same year as you at Black Lake.”
At least that might not be the worst thing in the world. It would be nice to show up on the first day of school as the new kid and know at least one person. “Cool.”
“Why don’t you give yourself a little self-guided tour, babe?” Trish raises her eyebrows at me, expression saying more than her words do. “The estate is beautiful. You should find the pool.”
I can take a hint, even without Trish bludgeoning me over the head with it. Obviously, they want time alone for reasons I am choosing not to contemplate. “I really just kind of want to take a nap.”
“Of course,” Carter responds pleasantly. “We have all your things in the Butterfly Room, just off the main staircase. Let me call someone to show you the way—”
“It’s fine, I’ll find it myself,” I interrupt, eager to give them their space. Trish already has her hands wrapped around Carter’s arm, stroking up and down like she’s petting some luxurious animal. I really need to leave them alone before anything gets hotter than PG-13, because I just don’t have the stomach for that. “Up these stairs, right?”
“And then to the left.”
I take the stairs two at a time hoping to outrun the wet sounds of kissing coming from behind me. There are dozens of doors lining the long hallway at the top of the stairs, each probably representing a bedroom large enough to fit our entire apartment back in the Bronx inside it.
Luckily for me, the rooms are named. Little plaques beside the door say things like The Palace Suite or The Rainbow Terrace. It doesn’t take long for me to find The Butterfly Room halfway down the sun-dappled hallway. Even though I haven’t seen much of this place, it wouldn’t surprise me if all the windows are arranged to let in just the right amount of sunlight regardless of the time of day. It’s like something out of a fairytale.
Which just makes it stranger that I’ve been feeling so uneasy since the moment that we arrived.
Maybe Trish was right and I’m just looking for something to complain about. This place is lovely and Carter has been way more generous than anyone would expect him to be under the circumstances. I should just accept what’s being offered and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Shaking aside the dark feelings, I push open the door ready to fall into the nearest bed and take a nice long nap.
And that’s when I lay eyes on my worst nightmare.
The hot asshole from the wedding smirks up at me from where he lounges on the four-poster bed, legs crossed at the ankle and arms bent behind his head. A mocking smile just like the one he wore when he offered me cash to screw him in a chapel and then threatened to ruin my life spreads across his face.
I scream, partly out of fear but mostly because I can’t think of any more rational way to respond.
Footsteps pound up the stairs moments before Trish and Carter appear at the door behind me, faces wild since they’re both convinced that I’m being attacked.
“Lily!” Trish cries, scandalized. “What’s gotten into you?”
“There’s a guy in my bed.” But when her gaze follows my pointed finger, the mocking smile on the asshole’s face has morphed into something pleasantly confused. As if he had slipped on a mask that was entirely different from what had been present just moments before. It’s uncanny. I don’t need more reasons to want to stay as far away from him as possible. “Who is this?”
“This is Asher,” Trish says, glancing between the two of us with a suspicious look in her eyes. My mother isn’t stupid and she can tell that I’m scared, even if she doesn’t know the reason. “The grandson that Carter told you about.”
“And you must be Lily,” the asshole — Asher — says as he rises off the bed and glides forward, much too graceful for a guy his size. He’s nearly a head taller than his grandfather. When he holds out his hand, I can’t help thinking of it as a spitting cobra. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just got back to the house today after traveling all night so I crashed on the first bed with clean sheets. I had no idea this room was yours.”
I don’t want to shake his hand but with Tris
h’s expectant gaze on me, it’s not like I really have a choice. When I thrust out my sweat-dampened palm, he grabs it in a grip that’s nearly bruising.
To my surprise, a spark of heat flashes between us the moment that our skin makes contact. I pull away as soon as I can without seeming rude to Trish’s watchful eyes. I know it’s important to her we all become one big happy family, but she doesn’t understand what this guy is.
“Well, no harm done. Mistakes happen.” Carter claps his hands together in a motion that’s clearly meant to mark the end of it. “Asher, I think your room is on the west hallway. The housekeeper made it up for you earlier this morning.”
“Of course, Grandfather.”
“I think everything is settled here, then.” Trish looks back and forth between us, her expression pensive. “It’s good that you two will have a chance to get to know each other.”
Asher’s expression is innocent and wide-eyed as if all of this was an honest mistake. So that’s his game, make nice in front of the adults so I look like the crazy one if I freak out at him. I can see right through the act, but Trish is easier to fool because she so desperately wants everything to be right with our new world.
But the moment Trish and Carter turn away, Asher’s expression alters and his eyes narrow with a burning hatred that makes no sense. He waits until they’re just out of hearing before whispering harsh words that are only meant for my ears.
“Too bad you called in the cavalry, baby slut. We never finished our negotiation from before. I’m still waiting for you to tell me how much.”
“Get out of my room,” I snap, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.
“Your room? Well, that didn’t take long did it? I think I’ll start calling you Goldie.” His fingers reach up to pinch a strand of my hair and pull sharply, stinging my scalp. I want to take a step back but refuse to give him the satisfaction. “Not for the hair, of course, you’re dishwater blonde at best. It’s short for gold-digger.”