The car ride to the Bishop’s penthouse doesn’t take long, and Grayson’s quiet the whole ride. Anticipation stirs in my gut, but I’m not sure if I’m nervous to meet Arthur Bishop or see Ash’s surprised face when I enter. The one thing I am sure of is the pleasure I’ll feel when Sophia sees me enter on Grayson’s arm.
He’s turned so quickly against her, just as Luke did to me. When you’re at the top, there is only one way to go, and the trip down is a lonely fall. I’m not sure it’s possible to have friends when you rule. It’s a fragile world, and the closer I become to having it back, the more I think my father did me a favor by destroying my London life. It’s too late now though. I’m racing head-on down a path, which has only one outcome. Defeat Sophia, or crumble trying. There is no going back. There is no walking away without living out the rest of my high school years being tormented. I’d rather twist the knife into her back than have the same done to me. Whatever the consequences, whatever the cost, my only direction is forward.
“Nervous?” Grayson breathes, his lips near my ear as we ride up in the elevator.
“No,” I lie. “I live for this.”
“Careful, Rose,” he whispers, biting my lobe. “I might just fall in love.”
Meeting his gaze, I return his roguish grin as the doors slide open. “The devil in love?”
“Grayson?”
Our heads swivel, the playfulness between us dying. “Father.” Grayson leads me forward. “I’d like you to meet Rose Devenport, my girlfriend.”
To Arthur’s credit, his gaze only widens briefly. I, on the other hand, have to swallow my shock before I can answer. I never agreed to be his pretend girlfriend. “Mr. Bishop, so lovely to meet you again,” I say sweetly, my smile matching my tone. “Grayson’s told me such wonderful things.”
“Has he now,” Arthur replies, briefly studying his son before taking my outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips. It takes every ounce of my will to not rip my hand from his lecherous grip. Sophia’s moans echo through my head, churning the contents of my stomach. “Violet’s daughter, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How are you liking New York City?” he asks with a smile.
“It’s like I was born to be here,” I answer, slipping my hand into Grayson’s once his father lets me go. He squeezes my hand in return, and I can’t decide if Grayson can sense my discomfort or he’s congratulating me on my stellar performance so far.
“Well, welcome to my home. Grayson, get the lady a drink. Ashton and Sophia are already here.”
Arthur follows us as Grayson guides me into the main living area. It’s twice as big as my apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows curve around, giving us a dazzling view of New York City at sunset. Ashton and Sophia rise as we enter, the shock on their faces there a moment too long. Inside, I smile, mischief playing on my lips as we walk toward them.
“I suppose introductions aren’t in order,” Arthur says, bored. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find out how far away dinner is.”
The second he leaves the room, the tension explodes. Sophia eyes me with contempt. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.
“She’s my guest,” Grayson responds for me. “Drink, Rose?”
“Please,” I reply, smiling at the still stunned pair. “What’s the matter? I thought we were all friends?”
Sophia grinds her teeth, the sound audible as Ashton simply shakes his head, his gaze tired.
“Why’d you bring your games into our home, Gray?” Ashton sighs. “My mother’s here.”
“Maybe,” Grayson replies sharply as he returns with my drink, “I wanted to invite Rose because I like her. Did you ever think that?”
“Whatever,” Ashton mutters, turning away toward the large windows.
“Jealous?” Grayson teases, running a hand down my arm as Ashton glances at us.
“You’re a dick, Gray,” Ashton hisses, marching toward us. “And you, Rose, why are you doing this to yourself?”
My anger surges forward, the memory of the last time we kissed entering my mind, the echo of his hands sliding my knickers to the side as he thrust into me, making me sick. “Do what?” I snap. “Because you’re the one who used me, Ash. Not Gray. At least he’s honest about who he is. You… you wear your golden crown pretending to be the good, gracious king, when inside, you’re just as bad as him.”
“Is there a problem?”
We all step apart, turning toward Arthur. “No, Father, everything is fine,” Grayson answers for us. “Is the food ready. I’m starved.”
He frowns but doesn’t question us further. “If you’d like to come through to the dining room.” He waves an arm. “Dinner will be served shortly.”
Grayson offers me the crook of his arm, and I accept, walking beside him into the formal dining room. It’s dressed for an event, not a family dinner. Waiting staff hurry about, putting the last touches to the setting and as we take our seats, Ashton’s mother and younger brother enter the room.
“Hello, sweetie,” she says, pressing a kiss to Ashton’s head. It takes me back to the days I hung out in his Brooklyn home, his mom making us grilled cheese sandwiches. She looks hollower somehow, a shadow of the warm, plump woman I knew.
Her smile is bright as it reaches me and for a second, I think she remembers me. “Gray, darling, who’s this beauty?” she asks.
It’s stupid, but hurt fills me, my chest exhaling. Of course she doesn’t remember me. I’ve grown since I was a kid, changed, and we met a handful of times.
“Summer, meet Rose, my girlfriend.”
Sophia chokes on her drink. Ashton’s gaze darkens.
“You brought a girl home. Well, it’s about time, Grayson. Isn’t it, Arthur?”
“Hmm, quite so,” Arthur mumbles, taking his seat at the head of the table. “Tell me, Rose, how’s your mother’s business going?”
“Well, she’s never home as she’s so busy.” I smile.
“What does she do?” Summer asks.
“She’s an event planner.”
“Rose has just moved back from London. She left when she was little,” Ashton explains to his mom. More pain lashes through me; he’s going to pretend we don’t know each other here too.
“I thought I detected an accent. Why the move?” Summer asks, causing the table to freeze. Of course, Ashton’s mom’s not up on the latest scandal. She might dress like an Upper East Sider, but at heart, she’ll always be from Brooklyn.
Searching my brain for a lie, I decide on a half-truth. “My parents split, and my mother wanted to be close to family.”
Sophia laughs behind a fake cough as tension builds in the air.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Rose. It must be hard,” Summer answers.
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
Thankfully, food is brought out at that moment, cutting the conversation short. Grayson’s hand slips onto my thigh under the table. “Good save,” he murmurs softly as I swat his hand away.
I smile confidently while inside, I’m a bundle of nerves. I’ve no idea why I thought it would be fun to come here and torment Sophia and Ashton. I should have remembered Grayson’s father is the scariest man I’ve met. I’ve no idea why Sophia is sleeping with him. I can’t see an angle that makes sense.
My food and drink go down, the alcohol helping settle me. Quiet chatter passes around the table, mostly by Summer, Ashton’s brother, Josh, and Arthur. The rest of us spend our time glaring between bites of salmon and sips of champagne. Bringing me into his home has drawn a line between Ashton, Sophia, Grayson, and me. This is no longer a battle against all three of them, but a fight for two to rule the throne. I’ve unwittingly been pulled into a war I never wanted a part of, but I’ve no choice but to play along until my big reveal.
As the evening draws on, Grayson becomes more hands-on. His touches out on show for the public, I play along, giggling like a love-struck teenager, all the while wondering whether this is part of his game or if he’s actually drunk. He’s bee
n throwing back glasses of scotch like there’s no tomorrow. You’d think his father would have something to say about the behavior, but as Grayson said, Arthur rarely glances his way, instead talking with Ashton and Sophia.
It gives me a new perspective of Grayson, a sadder one. It makes me wonder why Grayson allowed Ashton to step in and take the limelight to begin with. Maybe it was a blessing at the time, took the pressure off Grayson’s shoulders, until he became more or less invisible.
His fingers play with the short lengths of my hair, and seconds later, his lips find the curve of my shoulder. “Gray,” I hiss. “Quit it.”
He smiles devilishly. “Play along, my sweet,” he purrs.
Letting out a long breath, my gaze finds Ashton watching us with a mixture of jealousy and rage. So you do care. What the hell! I agreed to this.
My hand travels up Grayson’s body, feeling the strength of his muscles, before gripping his jaw and bringing his lips from my shoulder to my face. He freezes for a moment, a mixture of excitement and the thrill of the game darkening his deep brown eyes, before he closes his mouth over mine. The kiss is fleeting, sweet, nothing like the heated, almost dirty kisses we shared the previous night.
“Aren’t they sweet, Arthur? Do you remember being young and in love?” Summer asks dreamily. I bet she’s not remembering her first meetings with him; I can’t imagine Arthur ever being dreamy.
I smile, pretending to be shy. “I’m so sorry. Grayson, behave.” I giggle.
Ashton growls, actually growls, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. All eyes draw to him questioningly.
“Are you okay, Ash?” Summer asks quietly.
“Yeah,” he mumbles in reply.
Sophia must kick him under the table because he jumps a moment later, and they share an angry stare.
I smile. It’s time to torment Sophia a little, I think. “You’re so lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend, Ashton. Don’t you think, Mr. Bishop?”
“Hmm. Pardon?” Arthur looks up from the phone he was just typing into.
“Sophia’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I repeat sweetly. The pair share a glance. “I bet she feels like one of the family.”
Summer frowns in confusion. Ashton studies me curiously, and Sophia looks as if she’d like the ground to swallow her whole. I smirk, holding her gaze.
“Oh yes, Ashton’s a lucky boy,” Arthur finally responds.
Arthur watches me darkly, his gaze calculating. Oh, you just wait. I’m going to bring you to your knees.
“What was that about?” Grayson whispers in my ear.
I shrug, then squeeze his leg under the table to distract him. “Just drawing his attention from his phone. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Okay,” he answers, studying me. “What do you have on her?” he whispers near my ear.
Smiling, I eye Sophia watching us across the table. Her eyes are wide, fearful; she thinks I’m about to reveal her secret.
“Rose,” she coos. “Come with me to the ladies?”
Grayson and Ashton stare between us. “Be right back, baby.” I kiss Grayson’s cheek before rising, catching his amused gaze. He loves this. He’s in his element surrounded by tension and the promise of chaos.
“Why are you here?” Sophia hisses, grasping my hand and dragging me away as soon as we’re out of sight.
Ripping myself from her grip, I hold myself taller, staring her down. “Gray invited me. Tell me, Sophia, was it Ashton or Arthur who invited you?”
Her face heats as she balls her fists. “Why? Why are you doing this? I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve brought you into the fold, ruined my reputation just so you’re happy, and now you’re here dropping hints.”
A dark rage unfurls inside me, and I push myself into Sophia’s space, talking through clenched teeth. “Not everything is about you, Sophia. Maybe today was about Grayson and maybe if you’d step down off your high horse, you’d see that.”
“Everything okay here?”
Twisting around, I take in Ashton as he walks toward us, clearly agitated. Sophia shoves past me, walking away. Smiling at her departing figure, I blow Ashton as kiss before pushing through and into the toilet. Bolting the door, I head to the sink, leaning with my head down as I drag in breath after breath with no relief.
The truth is, I’m not sure why I’m here. Grayson has the strange ability to draw me in. It’s not attraction, well, not in the physical sense. It’s the allure to the dark side, to shedding all I was and becoming someone new—someone Ash would never recognize.
After five minutes in the toilet, I exit to find Ashton waiting for me.
“Why are you doing this? This isn’t you,” he says the second I step out.
Frowning, my mouth opens in shocked rage. He’s got no right to decide what’s me or not. “I’m not doing anything, Ashton. I never realized accepting an invitation for dinner would cause such drama.”
“So you and Grayson are a thing now?”
“So what if we are?” I snap, taut with anger. “What’s it got to do with you?”
“You can’t be serious? You really want to be Grayson’s whore, because that’s all women are to him,” he spits.
My jaw drops. “You did not just call me a whore,” I growl.
“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, but that’s all you’ll be to him,” he defends, his voice dropping slightly.
Slamming a hand into his chest, my breathing becomes ragged as all the emotions I keep contained inside me threaten to burst free. “No, Ash, that’s all I was to you. Call Grayson all you want, but at least I know where I stand with him.” I get in his face, shaking with rage. “You were the one who used me. I was your dirty little secret. I was your whore, and I hate you for it.”
Marching away, I head away from the dining room, needing to escape. My hands tremble as I push my way into the kitchen, wait staff bustle about preparing dessert, only hesitating for a moment as I enter.
“I need a drink. Where’s the vodka?” I rasp, running a hand through my hair. It’s like I’m coming apart at the seams, hurt and rage and humiliation straining at my skin, wanting out.
Whore. I shake my head. I can’t believe he called me a whore.
Is that what I am? Is that how he sees me? If it is, he made me that way. I was so desperate to have a piece of him, to feel some semblance of the happiness he’d once given me, I overlooked the fact he was happy keeping me in the dark. And no matter how many times I tell myself revenge will help and making them all pay will ease my pain, I don’t think it will. Because the closer it gets, the emptier I become, yet it’s better to feel nothing than spend every day suffering.
A bottle of vodka and a glass is placed in front of me, and I smile, despite the waitstaff’s disapproving gaze. “Thank you.”
Pouring the clear liquid into the glass, it’s half full when I stop and head to the huge double fridge in hopes of finding lemonade or soda.
“Rose?” Summer murmurs as I return to my glass, soda in hand. “Is everything okay?”
I pour the soda before looking up. “Yes.” I fake a smile. “Just needed a drink.”
She eyes the vodka bottle, then studies my face. “I know you,” she whispers quietly.
My heart clenches painfully and I gulp half my glass.
“I do. You’re Ash’s Rose.”
Ash’s Rose. Her words cut, stinging far more than they should. We’ve known each other for no time at all. It was weeks, yet those weeks meant so much. I was his Rose, but she died. She was crushed under the pressure of holding a crown and finding out her family was a lie. She was pulled here and there, manipulated and humiliated and finally betrayed. For a moment, I remember her. I remember what it was like before I entered the battlefield of high school. I saw him, and I wanted to be his Rose again, but we both changed, we both crumbled, and now we are strangers with no idea how to find our way back.
Shaking my head, I meet Ashton’s mum’s gaze with tears in my eyes. “I’m
not his anymore,” I whisper, turning away.
Stumbling into Grayson as I leave the kitchen, he catches me around the waist, holding me far gentler than I’d have expected from him. “Hey, are you all right?”
I move my head from side to side, swallowing the lump of tears wanting out. “No. Take me home, Gray.”
“But they’ve not served dessert yet,” he answers, frowning as he studies me.
“I can’t do this, Gray. I’m not like you. I… I can’t breathe.”
His hand slips into mine. “Follow me.”
I do, despite my desire to leave, allowing him to lead me upstairs and past room after room until we reach the furthest room to the right. Grayson opens the door, ushers me in and locks it behind him. It occurs to me I should maybe be worried; Grayson Bishop has a reputation after all. But for some unknown reason, I’m beginning to trust him, despite his devilish charm.
Standing in the center of the room, I turn, taking in my surroundings. The walls are a light gray, the bed huge and covered in black sheets, but it’s the walls that draw my attention. Every available space is filled with art. Paintings and sketches, from traditional to abstract, it’s like his own personal gallery.
“Welcome to my room,” he whispers roughly in my ear, startling me. I was so entranced I hadn’t heard him approach.
“Gray… these are amazing. Why don’t you take art?”
He stands beside me and shrugs. “I like art. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in creating it.” Pulling my gaze from the walls, I study Grayson. “What?” he asks.
“You’ve surprised me. You’re surprising.”
“What, you’d think my room would be a sex dungeon?”
I laugh. “Maybe. I think it’s what most people think about you, Gray, and you let them.”
“It’s easier that way.”
“Why’d you bring me in here?” I ask quietly, not sure I want to know.
He watches me silently for a beat before turning away and sitting on his bed. “I’m not sure. You just looked how I feel sometimes, I guess. My room is the only place I can escape to.”
“You don’t bring girls in here, do you?”
He grins. “No. Want to christen my bed?”
The Destruction of Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 1) Page 18
