by E. M. Snow
And the weirdest part? That Kallista doesn’t seem to know what to do. She’s just staring at Reina, her cheeks twitching and her ears bright red.
“Bitch, be gone,” Reina finally says, turning from Kallista to give me her full attention. “You, come with me.” Grabbing my arm, she leads me down the hall to the bathroom. She shoves us inside and then barks at everyone else to get out. The other girls scramble away.
Once we’re alone, she touches the tip of her finger to the center of her lips and levels me with a questioning look. “Please tell me the rumors aren’t true.”
Where the hell was she when Phoenix was demanding my servitude and her brother was lending a helping hand? When I don’t respond, she puffs out an agitated breath. Now, her expression is just short of accusatory—as if she suspects I’m not quite the innocent victim in all this.
I give her a stony glare. How dare she assume anything about me? She doesn’t know anything about me. “Your cousin hasn’t told you the plan? I’ll be living with you people for the next three months.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You can’t be serious? Jesus, Josslyn ... why? What the hell is going on?”
My blood heats once more as fury roars through me. It suddenly doesn’t matter that she stood up for me, because she’s turning on me herself.
“Ask Phoenix or your brother,” I growl before leaving the bathroom. I don’t slow down until I reach the main doors to the building, and I storm out into the sunny California day. My destination is the bus stop, but as I descend the wide concrete steps, my feet slow as my eyes land on Phoenix and Gideon in various stages of after-school undress. Gideon’s already shed his blazer and tie while Phoenix has taken it a step further by rolling up his sleeves and untucking his white oxford shirt. They’re waiting next to an Aston Martin parked right by the No Parking sign.
Since Phoenix is jangling the keys in his palm, I figure it belongs to him.
The stench of privilege wafting from his long, muscular frame is nauseating.
I come to a stop on the sidewalk once I reach them. “Jesus, how many cars do you own?” I demand.
“As many as I want.” He jerks his chin toward his car, and orders, “Get in.”
Is he kidding? I nearly laugh right in his face. At the same time, I’m tempted to hurl my bookbag at the windshield or kick the stupid car, but then I catch Gideon’s eye. The warning behind his gaze keeps my lips sealed.
I glance back at Phoenix. His scowl makes it clear he’s not going to be patient with me. If I don’t get in that car willingly, who knows what he’ll do to force me inside?
My shoulders slump in defeat. Dragging my feet, I move closer and slip into the car when Phoenix opens the door for me. As it slams shut again, it feels like the key to my own personal prison has been turned, locking me in.
As Phoenix moves around to slide into the driver’s side of the car, I feel an overwhelming sense of doom settle over me.
There’s no way out of it now. For better or worse, for the next three months, I’m at Phoenix Townsend’s mercy.
12
The next morning, I wake up in a giant room that is unbelievably mine—at least for the next three months. Sitting upright in the king-sized bed, I grasp the plush white comforter and drink in my surroundings. It takes a moment to reacquaint myself with my new existence because, Jesus Christ, this whole situation is insane.
Swiping my phone from the nightstand, I shoot off another text to Jasper.
6:41 AM: Where are you? What the hell were you thinking? I’m at the Townsends. Please Jasper. I need you to explain all this to me.
I wait a few minutes to see if he sends any kind of response. He doesn’t, which shouldn’t hurt me so much at this point, but my chest is tight and cold, despite my own attempts to reason with myself. Chucking my phone to the side, I drop my head into my hands and exhale. None of this feels real.
It’s all too crazy to be real.
After I got into Phoenix car yesterday afternoon, he drove me to my grandma’s house to pick up my things. It took me all of thirty minutes to pack what I needed, which was oddly humiliating. At school, everyone knows I’m not wealthy, but I could at least hide the fact behind the uniform we’re all required to wear. Having Phoenix and Gideon Townsend waiting outside my house while I gathered my few necessary belongings made the difference in our classes so much starker.
“That it?” Phoenix had asked, staring down his aristocratic nose at my two duffel bags once I came outside.
“Yes,” I gritted out.
He’d chuckled as I squeezed into the outrageously cramped backseat of his outrageously expensive car. “It’s a tight fit,” he’d drawled, earning a dark look from Gideon.
My knees ache just thinking about the backseat of that stupid car.
The ride to their mansion in Bel Air was silent. Phoenix didn’t continue to mock me, which was surprising, and Gideon didn’t say a word either. Still, a heavy tension hung in the air that kept me on edge and waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. It was bound to, right? The moment I agreed to such a terrible arrangement I had sealed my terrible, cruel fate. When we arrived at the house, Phoenix still didn’t say anything to me as he led me up to the second floor to show me my room.
My initial shock was obvious, and the only thing I was able to murmur was, “There’s a chandelier in here.”
“I realized you’d need something shiny to keep your attention off the rest of my mother’s jewelry,” he’d taunted, seemingly unable to resist getting a jab in. My breath had stalled when he grasped my chin and tilted my face up to his. “What did you think? That we’d put you in the dungeons? Chain you to the walls? Make you live in a cage? While those options were definitely … enticing, Gideon vetoed them. You can thank him later, Luna.”
I’d ripped away from him, ignoring the tingles that burst beneath my skin from his touch as I explored the room. High ceilings, enormous ivory furniture, a sitting area in front of a large marble fireplace—the space felt as though it belonged in a fairy tale.
I think, in that moment, I truly understood the term gilded cage.
Phoenix had disappeared after that to God knows where. Not that I cared. Still, apart from my room, I hadn’t known where anything else in the house was and had no idea how I was going to find my way around. As if he’d known his brother would abandon me, Gideon had shown up at my door shortly after Phoenix left.
“Figured he wouldn’t stick around,” he’d admitted with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t looked me in the eye, and I prayed he felt like shit for what they were forcing me to do. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
“Really?” I’d asked, surprised. “Why?”
He had given me this incredulous stare and answered, “Are you planning on never leaving your room? Despite what Phoenix would probably like you to believe, you aren’t a prisoner. Just a ... somewhat coerced guest.”
That’s one way to put it, I supposed. Regardless, I accepted his invitation and he’d shown me around most of the house. There were three floors in all, with crazy amenities on each. An indoor pool and sauna, an executive kitchen, dining room, and living room on the first floor. A massive library, the office, and bedrooms on my floor. More bedrooms, a movie theater room, and even a state-of-the-art music room on the third floor.
And that’s only the interior. We barely skimmed the grounds. Gideon just had us stand on the back terrace as he pointed out the basketball and tennis courts, gardens and two guest cottages, and the citrus groves off toward the back of the property near the greenhouse.
It was all so much. I’d been overwhelmed, more so than when I got my first glimpse of this place. When Gideon casually let it slip out that Reina is a habitual couch-surfer and rarely ever came home, I’d kept to myself the rest of the night and stayed in my room. Dinner was brought to me, but I hadn’t really touched it. My appetite was pretty much nonexistent. Since I stayed locked away, I didn’t see Alaric either, which I was happy about.
&n
bsp; In the words of Reina, that guy could go suck a bag of dicks.
Lifting my head, I give myself a mental shake to throw my convoluted thoughts away. I need to get up and get ready for school. Thinking of it, of course, is an all-new source of panic. I haven’t even really considered how terrible school is going to be now. Yesterday was just a teaser of what’s to come, I’m afraid.
Groaning, I throw the covers aside and slip out of the bed. The plush sheepskin area rug is soft and warm beneath my bare feet as I pad into the cavernous bathroom. With a yelp, I realize the tiled floor is heated, completely eliminating that initial morning chill I always get right after climbing out of bed.
The walk-in shower has a rainfall showerhead and seemingly unlimited hot water. I could stand in the warm spray all day, but I force myself to scrub and wash my hair quickly, not wanting to be late and give people more reason to gossip.
Once I’m out of the shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair, brushing it into a low ponytail. I get dressed in record time, then grab my bookbag and make my way out into the hallway. Pausing, I gaze around, trying to remember which way Gideon showed me was the quickest way to the kitchen. Turning to my right, I tentatively walk down the hall toward the main staircase.
There’s no sign of anyone around, which is more than a little creepy.
How can such an enormous house be so empty?
Almost the second my feet touch the foyer, a voice barks out, “Fuck, what took you so long? Move your ass, we’re going to be late.”
Startled, I spin around to find Phoenix striding toward me from the hallway leading to the back of the house. His blazer is tucked in the crook of his elbow and he’s knotting his striped uniform tie.
“Late? We’re not going to be—”
He grabs my arm when he reaches me and propels me toward the door. “I have a makeup test this morning. You know, since I was out Friday dealing with your bullshit.”
I try to escape him, but I fail. Go figure. Gritting my teeth, I point out, “Nobody forced you to deal with me. I mean, you could have just left everything to your father and—"
“You talk too fucking much.” He doesn’t bother to explain further and instead drags me outside and down the front steps toward his car. I realize too late that Gideon isn’t coming with us.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I am so not okay with this. “Where’s Gideon?”
“Do I look like his keeper?” he demands, and I blink. My momentary reluctance doesn’t appear to please him one bit. He moves closer, his minty breath fanning my face. “Get the fuck in the car. Don’t make me say it again.”
His tone is legitimately scary, and I can’t be sure he won’t do something really terrible to get me to do as he says. Not really interested in finding out what lines he’s willing to cross to get his way, I begrudgingly slip into the Aston Martin. He slams the door shut, making me jump, and then storms around to the driver’s side. The car roars to life and he speeds down the driveway.
I expect it to be another silent ride, but Phoenix surprises me when he starts talking almost immediately. “We need to establish some rules that you’ll need to obey while you’re our ... guest.”
“Don’t worry, I already lock my door.
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “As if a goddamn lock can keep me out when I want in,” and I squirm in my seat. For some reason, I don’t doubt him. Not one little bit.
Closing my fingers around my charm bracelet like it’s a security blanket, I rasp, “Okay … rules? What kind of rules?”
“You will ride to and from school every day with Gideon or me unless I say otherwise.”
“What about Alaric?” After all, he had no problem sending his cousin to fetch me yesterday. “Or Reina?”
“Reina’s never here because she thinks I’m the devil or some shit. Aric would rather amputate his own dick than fuck around with you.” Okay, that burns, especially considering what had happened between us this summer. “You won’t leave the house without permission and someone to keep an eye on you. You won’t poke your nose into our personal lives. You won’t question me, and you will obey everything I tell you.”
“Wow, Phoenix,” I say on a noisy breath. “What else? Do I have to refer to you as sir whenever you’re around? Call you Mr. Townsend since your loving father doesn’t seem to be in the picture?”
Cruelty twists his lips. “Not a bad idea. Add it to the list.”
“You’re a terrible person.” I turn my head sharply to stare out the window, but his next words force my attention back to him.
“And you’re mine, remember that. Oh, and Luna, there’s one more rule.” His tone is strained; the smirk gone. “It’s the most important one of all.”
“Let me guess, don’t go in the west wing?”
When he says nothing, I study his profile. His jaw is taut, and it feels like he’s barely holding something back. I can’t really tell what, though. Anger? Frustration? Dare I hope it’s regret? Doubtful. A person has to have compassion and empathy to feel regret, and I don’t think he’s capable of either.
“Well, what is it?” It’s barely a whisper.
“You can’t tell anyone the real reason we’re … associating with each other.” His voice is like granite, and his fingers flex around the steering wheel. “Not Aric. Not Reina. Not even your little slut friend, though I understand you two probably have some welfare code of ethics. If she asks, you tell her you’re cleaning house for us after school. Nothing more, do you understand?”
Anger and disgust, two emotions I’m becoming intimately acquainted with, scorch through me. First, he lays rules on me like I’m some child he has to keep in line, then he insults Margaret. If I was less scared of him, I’d punch him right in his nuts and risk the potential car crash.
“How the hell do you expect me to keep the truth from Reina and Alaric if we’re living in the same house?” I breathe instead. “And what exactly did Jasper take from you anyway? What’s so important that you’re going this far to get it back?”
After all, Jasper’s already wanted for questioning by the police. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to turn him in?
Phoenix doesn’t look at me as he replies, “The only thing that matters is that it’s returned. As far as my cousins go, they think your grandma used to work for us.”
“And that explains me living with you, how?”
“Your grandma worked for us, now she’s sick and you’re living in the house.” He goes out of his way to exaggerate every word, like he’s explaining something to a small child. “It’s called charity, Luna. My mom loves that type of shit and pet projects like you.”
Pet. Projects.
Well, fuck Phoenix, and his mom.
“So, where is your mom?” I ask. “When do I get to speak to her or your dad?”
I’ve seen pictures of them around the house and overheard some of the maids talking in hushed tones about “Mr. Royce and Ms. Sabrina.” Everything they say is surprisingly … pleasant. Except, of course, the fact that the entire staff is wondering when they’ll return from their business trip.
“Where are they?” I ask, my voice more insistent.
“A business trip,” he snarls. “Do you always ask so many goddamn questions?”
“When things don’t make sense and some overprivileged sociopath has kidnapped me.”
“You forgot sex god,” he quips, and my skin ignites at that. The mere idea of Phoenix and sex. Which is foolish because he’s so … him. “That’s usually inserted between overprivileged and sociopath. Sometimes before if you’re really nasty.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Confirmed, but admit it, you’re thinking about it now. Me. Sex. You’re wondering where exactly my bedroom is, how close it is to yours, how easy it would be to just—”
“Stop,” I say on a sharp gasp, ignoring the heat in the pit of my stomach.
“Prude,” he drawls. “But since you’re definitely thinking about me now, I live in
one of the cottages, not the main house. That way I’ll never have you interrupting my … activities.”
Gross. And also, yet another display of his excessive privilege. Those guest cottages are big enough to house an entire family.
Since it’s clear he’s not going to give me any information on his parents’ whereabouts and I’d rather chew my own arm off than discuss sex with him, I slump down in the seat, anxiously fidgeting with my bracelet. We don’t speak the rest of the drive, and when we get to school and he parks in the back of the senior parking lot, I rush out of the car before he can get a word out or anyone can see us. At least, I hope no one sees. I hurry away from him and make my way to the main entrance of the building.
The moment I step over the threshold into the school, I go still.
All eyes are on me. Usually, no one even looks my way when I arrive to school, but today the other students gathered in the hall are either stealing furtive glances my way or blatantly staring at me.
Averting my gaze to the floor, I shuffle through the hall toward Margaret’s locker. When I spot her up ahead—minus Gia, who must still be sick—I let out a sigh of relief. I raise my hand and wave at her with a wide grin.
Margaret, however, spears me with a harsh look.
What the hell?
Without a word, she shuts her locker, turns her back on me, and walks away. If she had slapped me, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I drop my hand and stare after her, dumbfounded.
Clearly, I underestimated just how truly shitty things could still get.
My day goes from terrible to awful. I’m so used to being invisible—I try so hard to stay that way—that being the center of attention is discombobulating. Everywhere I turn people are looking at me and whispering to each other. Some whispers are low, but most are not. It’s just like yesterday afternoon, when they were throwing terrible comments my way and making assumptions that cast me as a money-hungry gold-digger.
In government, Bekah Raymond—the girl who sits behind me—writes Fat Bitch on my uniform sweater with a Sharpie. I don’t say anything, but our teacher notices and sends her to Deputy Headmaster Vinovich’s office. As I’m walking to choir, I get an Instagram DM from Bekah. It’s a video from last year of a group of my classmates jumping an Angelview girl in the library along with a message:
