My High School Royal Boyfriend: A Sweet YA Secret Identity Romance (Boyfriend Series (River Valley High) Book 5)

by Kylie Key

  Chapter 17

  Alexander

  A murmur of voices, clipped footsteps and a clatter of glass bottles indicated there were people in the hallway. Blaire and I broke away, statues until the sounds disappeared.

  It had been an insane twenty minutes.

  I’d brought two good button-down shirts and two pairs of trousers—or pants as Blaire called them, to River Valley. I hadn’t really expected I’d need to wear them. I had a preconceived idea that I was going to a very casual place where people wore jeans and t-shirts all the time. And at RV High it was pretty much right, except of course there were jackets and hoodies in winter. I went with a black and black combo, with a purple tie borrowed from Mr Cutter. I hadn’t brought one of my own, and when I’d packed it had seemed petty to ask Mum to check the contents of my suitcase. If she had, she’d probably have told me to leave my trench coat at home. I hadn’t seen another one in River Valley, but I threw the long tan coat on because, well, it was cold. And yeah, I was wallowing a little. Blaire had left yesterday to go home and I was seriously down-in-the-dumps about it.

  The past week, things had stepped up a notch for us. Completely unexpected, but it had happened naturally. After hanging out at Lily’s house, we’d parked by the river and talked and kissed, and then the next day I ate lunch with her, and let’s just say, day by day she was making her way into my heart, bit by bit, little by little.

  So much so, that by the time the last day of school came I’d uncharacteristically worked myself into a bundle of nerves. And my fears came to fruition when she said she would indeed be visiting her mother.

  There were things I wanted to tell Blaire, but if I said any of it—of how she was the sunshine, the fire, the spark in these cold wintry River Valley days, I risked exposing myself as a fraud. Yeah, I couldn’t tell her how she’d brought brightness and life into my gloomy dull days without spilling my whole story. And it was obvious a girl like Blaire would be overwhelmed by who I really was. I mean, the girl hung out in the library every day and brought a lunchbox to school!

  Yet in the most unexpected exposé of the century, I learnt that Blaire Ashley was a billionaire’s daughter, and a skilled horse rider to boot! Strangely, that excited me the most—she’d get on so well with Mum! She would love Langley Estate too. I pictured her working with Mum in the stables, as if our future together was secured.

  The thing is, the girl in the lilac dress had caught my eye as I’d been relieved of my coat by a door person. It was just a flash, I don’t think I saw her face, but something made me take a second look. But she’d floated away.

  But then, Shelby was introducing me to the party hostess, and Blaire was next to her, calling her Mum. Or Mom. It was too much to comprehend, my Blaire who pretty much wore the same jeans-sweater-purple shoes combo on a daily basis was a member of River Valley Royalty. The Whittaker Empire had its humble roots in River Valley, but had grown to be revered as the top premium ice cream manufacturer in the country. And I could vouch for its taste; it really was that good.

  My brain had trouble absorbing the revelation, and I was completely flabbergasted on why she would be living a double life. Could Blaire have encountered some problem or tragedy? Was she being stalked? Was she at risk of being kidnapped?

  I tried not to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was a doppelgänger, a sister, a twin.

  But it was none of these.

  After the shock of realizing that the geeky girl I’d fallen for was now morphed before me as a glamorous starlet, it dawned on me that her story was bizarre, too bizarre for words really. A billionaire’s daughter accused of stealing a diamond bracelet? Firstly, who took an expensive bracelet to school? And secondly, why would she steal it? The opulence of the family home, a modern multi-level sprawling mansion, complete with a water feature in the driveway and lions at the gate, told me they weren’t short of a dollar or two, or a million.

  Reconnecting with her needed my attention first and foremost. Then I’d delve into the finer details. After a kiss that made me dizzy, and other things, we jumped up to sit on the laundry benches, facing each other, and I was curious for more information. She was quick to share, and I got the feeling that she’d been suffering in this alone, grateful to be able to unburden her story.

  My own secret identity story was due to tabloids hounding my family over a personal tragedy, and it seemed boringly straight forward compared to this. Blair claimed someone must have set her up, and her hunch was that it was Zara Raymond, the very girl whose bracelet had been stolen.

  The name Zara immediately set off an alarm bell. It was an uncommon name, but I let Blaire finish. Back in the fabric store on the day we’d been looking for costumes, she said she’d overheard Zara talking in the aisle.

  “Is that the day that you first kissed me?” I asked.

  Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, even through the makeup. She nodded and carried on. “I heard Zara sarcastically telling her friends that she was now taking on the role of giving out the class Christmas stockings. It was a tradition Mom had started years ago. She was mocking it and saying it was tacky, and that she’d provide the best stockings ever, blah, blah, blah.” She scrunched her nose up as she said those last words. “She basically said I was a loser, but it was said with such a bitterness, like she hated me. I mean, we weren’t friends at school, but we weren’t enemies. Not as far as I was aware.” She paused, looking down at her lilac painted toenails, then mumbled, “And I might not have been the nicest person out there, but I was never intentionally mean to anyone.”

  I playfully kicked her foot with mine. “What do you mean by that?” I asked gently.

  Drawing in a long inhale, she blew out a breath through pursed lips. “At Covington Prep I was someone. I was popular, well, look at me...my name, our wealth. People want to be friends with you when you have money.” I knew she was stating a fact that was sad but true. “But coming to River Valley High, I had no one, and no one knew me. And well, you know the rest.”

  The distance between us was too great for me to reach out to touch her comfortably, so I hopped down and stood before her. The tears were smudging her dark lined eyes. My heart went out to her, she’d been ostracized by her school, her friends, her family. How deep did that cut, how bitter did that make you? But empathy wasn’t enough here. I had to put my thinking cap on.

  “The name Zara rings a bell,” I said. “Does she ride?”

  “She used to,” Blaire said, “I remember her taking lessons when I did, but I’m not sure if she does now.”

  “I’m pretty sure that Shelby is her instructor,” I said, recalling a time soon after I’d arrived when Shelby had spoken about a chestnut Arabian called Dasher. Apparently Zara, the owner, hadn’t been paying her stable or coaching fees. There had been quite a heated discussion between Shelby and Grant.

  “That’s probably right,” Blaire said. “We used to compete together when we were little. Until I stopped riding.”

  “Why did you stop riding?” I asked.

  “Gah,” she sighed with exasperation. “Mom was so competitive. I just wanted to learn to ride and take care of Moonbeam, but Mom pushed me into competitions, and I was useless.” She looked up with flushed cheeks. “You can see I’m not the sportiest person out there. How bad was I at Twister?”

  I had this sudden urge that I needed to take this girl home to Mum, to England. My mother would love her. But I was getting ahead of myself.

  “So, she’s here tonight?” I asked, reestablishing my focus.

  “Yeah, can you believe Mom invited her family? I mean, it’s not like they live in town either. She boards at school.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  Blaire shook her head defiantly. “I’m well and truly staying out of her way.”

  “Does she have a grudge against you?”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “you said you’re not enemies, but is she jealous of you?”

  Blaire sh
rugged, and closed her eyes for a moment. “Alex, at Covington Prep I was a different person. I was part of the Homecoming Court,” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “Can you imagine Rebecca Cook knowing that? Me, the geek, a Homecoming Princess?”

  “Why are you all obsessed with Homecoming?” I rolled my eyes. I was pretty pleased I’d missed out on all of that. “Was Zara part of it?”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Blaire said.

  I pondered why a student boarding at an exclusive prep school wasn’t paying stable fees. Something about that situation nagged at me. “I’m going to do some detective work.” I lifted Blaire down from the bench. “Point her out to me.”

  Blaire looked dubious as we parted ways at the buffet table, Zara’s orange flame dress easily spotted. It was a dress that demanded attention, and I intended to give her that. Alexander Radclyffe relished the opportunity to put his acting skills to the test.

  Most people would call Zara a beauty, but her long blonde hair was so straight and flat that I visualized it as having been put through a pasta making machine, and her eyelashes, well, they looked like spiders had taken up residence on her eyelids. I didn’t find them the least bit attractive.

  But Zara Raymond would never know that. Oh no, one sentence spoken in my normal everyday speaking voice had a bewitching spell on River Valley girls, that I’d learnt, and Zara was no exception. A conversation was easy to initiate and horses quickly became our point of commonality. As I mentioned being Shelby Cutter’s guest, her interest rose, and her summer holiday to Paris became an enthusiastic talking point. For her, at least. I tried to find out when she’d be riding next. Shelby’s indoor arena was popular with riders in the winter season. If I had to watch this girl ride to obtain information, then I was prepared to do it. Blaire’s reputation was at stake, and I considered it my personal crusade to save it.

  Difficult to pay Zara my full attention when I knew Blaire was on the other side of the room, I nonetheless hovered around her. Yet, it was an innocuous comment about dessert that got my heart racing.

  “You’d think that they’d be some of the famous Whittaker’s Ice Cream at a party of the owners,” I quipped, perusing the table. The gold and white theme of the house meant there was an overload of all things white chocolate and fancy. Some good old fashioned British trifle—a layered dessert of sponge cake, custard, jelly, fruit and cream— wouldn’t have gone amiss with me.

  “Humph!” Zara snorted. “It’s overrated anyway. You’re not missing out on much.”

  I was immediately curious. Nobody in the world disses ice cream, of any sort, so Zara’s dissent was strange.

  “Really? It’s not that good?”

  “Not now,” she sniffed, and putting her hand over her mouth to shield from prying ears. “Our farms used to provide the buttermilk to Whittaker’s, but they use someone else now.” Her tightly pressed lips and blazing eyes flashed with disdain.

  “Oh well,” I said, trying to sound calm in the face of rising adrenaline, “I think I’ll try the cheesecake.” And I kept the conversation going with some seemingly inane questions about her family’s farm. At the first opportunity I excused myself, gesturing with a head tilt to Blaire that we should meet in the laundry room again.

  A sweet kiss told me Blaire had been eating the peppermint bark. Our lips lingered, temporarily forgetting that I had obtained some crucial information. I willed myself back to reality.

  “The Raymond farms used to supply Whittakers with buttermilk,” I said.

  “Did they?” she replied.

  “Yes,” I said, “But now they don’t. You don’t know anything about that?” Blaire shook her head, wide-eyed and clueless. I plowed on. “I think it could have something to do with framing you.”

  Blaire giggled. “Who knew? You’re a regular—who’s that detective—Sherlock...?”

  “Holmes,” I finished for her, slightly frustrated at her lack of urgency in the matter. “Who could find out for us?”

  “Dad? Or...” Her eyes brightened. “Jack! Jack’ll know. Let’s go get my phone.”

  We crept our way up a curved stairwell, the chrome, glass and wood all ultra modern. It was in contrast to the three hundred year old house on Langley Estate. Of course we’d updated the decor and appliances, but it retained the character of a grand old manor house.

  Locking her bedroom door, I tried to focus on the reason we were in here. Hmmm. Tough. Blaire took a phone from the drawer of her nightstand (not the one she used at RV High) and pressed a few buttons.

  “I’ll video call,” she said.

  “Why isn’t he here?” She’d told me Jack was her cousin and a student at Covington Prep. Golf was his thing.

  “He’s babysitting with his girlfriend,” Blaire said, which made no sense to me.

  I heard a boy’s voice say with muted interest, “What’s up?”

  “Hi Jack, hi Bella.” Blaire was waving at the screen. “Jack, we need your help.” She beckoned me to the bed, where she was sitting. “This is Alex.” She brought her arm around me to pull me in closer. A boy with dark brown hair was sitting next to Bella, a girl from my English Lit class.

  We both said each other’s names at the same time, and it was followed by muddled explanations of how we knew each other.

  “Blaire, you’ve had your hair cut and colored,” Bella said, as if this was the most important observation. “It looks nice.”

  “Thanks,” Blaire said, “actually, this is my natural color.” I cleared my throat as a subtle reminder of why we were here. “Oh yeah,” Blaire said. “Alex thinks he’s uncovered something. Jack, do you know that the Raymond farms no longer supply Whittakers?”

  Jack frowned as if the question was right out of left field. “Yeah, I think I remember Dad talking about it.” I had worked out that Jack’s father and Blaire’s mother were siblings.

  I gave a brief rundown on what I’d learnt from Zara Raymond, surmising that there appeared to be bitterness over the loss of the contract and this could be the reason Blaire had been set up over the theft. A payback, so to speak. Maybe I’d been watching too many thriller movies. Thrillers had been William’s favorite. Whereas the boys and I would select action or comedy, William had preferred something with a plot and a twist.

  “How can we find out?” Blaire asked.

  “Dad’s computer?” Jack suggested.

  In between Bella asking Blaire how the party was going, we agreed to meet at Jack’s house in thirty minutes. Bella’s mother would be home by then. I hadn’t heard any details on organizing a ride, and was thrilled when Blaire grabbed a bunch of keys and led me to the garage basement.

  “You wanna drive?” she asked as I stood next to the driver’s door of the sleek silver Mercedes.

  Not wanting to admit I’d gone to the driver’s side by mistake—hey, it’s a hard habit to break—I also wasn’t going to turn down the chance to drive the latest edition of an E-class coupe.

  It was a five minute drive to Jack’s house and I parked outside the heavily gated property, completely blown away by the level of wealth. It seemed different from my family’s, an inherited title, land passed down through generations, old money so to speak.

  The Whittaker empire had been built by hard work and sweat and toil, from what Blaire had told me, her great great grandfather Peter (the namesake of the ice cream parlor), establishing the company as a young man. It seemed that the company was very much a family affair, with Blaire and Jack’s parents running it. Blaire indicated that it was expected that she and Jack would be involved eventually, but for now Jack had plans for college golf and a possible career in the sport. I wondered where Blaire’s future in the company lay.

  Jack and Bella arrived in a black SUV, a much newer version of what I drove at home. With a click of his remote he disabled the alarm system, and we followed him into a spacious office. Booting up the computer, he asked if anyone wanted food or drink.

  Blaire had revealed that Bella wasn’t a part of the secret identi
ty plan and that she had successfully managed to keep out of her way while at River Valley High. The only close call had been when the art class had brought in the set for the play.

  Jack lifted up the designer mousepad on the desk, which revealed a password on a tiny post-it note. He shook his head as if it was all too obvious. Once logged in, he searched for files.

  I told him how Shelby had been annoyed because the Raymonds hadn’t paid their stable and coaching fees for the past three months, and how it seemed weird considering they were supposedly not short of money. We all peered over Jack’s shoulder scanning each file, when he suddenly went, “Uh huh, I think this is it.”

  Clicking on a document, he speed read under his breath, and then announced, “Whittakers cut the contract to Raymond Farms in September when it was found their buttermilk quality was not up to standard. The agreed rate of 18% was not adhered to, and after many warnings and opportunities to improve their rate, their contract was canceled.” He swiveled in his chair to face us, saying, “We’re talking a contract worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  My analytical brain clicked in, and so did a fake Scotland Yard voice. “So, the Whittakers cancel a contract worth a lot of money, and the Raymonds seek revenge by destroying Blaire’s life.” I turned to Blaire. “They ruined your reputation and accused you of being a thief.”

  “It seems a bit much,” Blaire said, her nose scrunching as if I was being a little melodramatic. Well, fair to say she didn’t know theater was Alexander Radclyffe’s jam.

  Jack had returned to scrolling down the page and had another uh-huh moment. “Blaire, there was a lawsuit against your parents,” he said, “did you know?”

  “What?” She leaned in closer, squinting at the screen.

  “The Raymonds filed a lawsuit for emotional distress damages caused by the theft of Zara’s bracelet.”

  “That’s outrageous,” I said.

  Blaire’s face had turned pale and she gasped. “O.M.G,” she said, biting down on her lower lip. I put my arm around her. Bella and Jack threw baffled glances at each other. “So, did Mom and Dad invite them here tonight to try to get them to drop the lawsuit?”