Kings of Mercia Academy 1-4: The Complete Bully Romance

by Sofia Daniel

  “Do you really think she’s capable of something so heinous?” asked Duncan. “Any one of those boys could have spiked the girls’ cocktails.”

  My gaze turned to the group of boys huddled up on the walkway. Eight or so policemen walked among them, taking down details in their notebooks.

  Edward wrapped an arm around my waist. “Are you alright?”

  “Just horrified,” I replied.

  A photographer I recognized from the Saturday Correspondent strolled down the ramp, taking photos of the aftermath. The sight of him hovering around like a vulture sent spikes of irritation across my skin. Ignoring the little voice in the back of my mind calling me a hypocrite, I broke away from Edward and approached him. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  He flicked his head at the two crew members Henry had pushed aside. “That lot told me.”

  That’s when I noticed they both wore thick glasses. I would bet any amount that Tom’s van was parked in a back street, having driven on the roads parallel to the river during its cruise. My hands balled into fists. If the Correspondent had known Charlotte would drug schoolgirls, why didn’t they do something to stop it?

  I was about to walk over and speak to them when a paramedic wheeled a girl with hair the exact shade as mine. Her head was bowed, and her hair covered most of her upper body, but there wasn’t a trace of vomit in that long hair or on her skirt or on her bare legs.

  “Charlotte.”

  She turned her head up at me. Then her eyes widened, and she leaped out of the wheelchair and bolted up the ramp.

  Chapter 24

  Charlotte’s four-inch heels clanked up the ramp, and the muscles in her thighs and calves rippled with each rapid movement. For someone in such ridiculous footwear, she made surprising progress. Holding my aching ribs, I chased after her amidst the cheers and the catcalls of the boys being interviewed by the police.

  “Emilia!” Blake held my wrist.

  “Come on!” I continued running with him by my side. “Overtake me. She’s getting away.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he replied. “Henry’s right behind us, and I doubt he’ll want you alone either.”

  Somehow, between the ramp and the waterfront, a wide restaurant-lined sidewalk, Charlotte had taken off her shoes and sprinted ahead. I growled my frustration. Why were the boys being so overprotective at a time like this? We ran past a row of parked ambulances and police vans, at the end of which stood a black cab.

  Charlotte waved her arm. “Taxi! Taxi!”

  A burst of fury powered my limbs and dulled the pain around my ribs, and I closed the distance between us. She wasn’t going to get away.

  Channeling Henry, I leaped through the air and tackled her. “Stupid bitch!”

  We both tumbled to the ground. My knees hit the paving stones, sending pain radiating up my thighs. I winced and held onto my quarry.

  “Get off me, you trollop!” Charlotte elbowed me in the gut, aggravating my bruises.

  I clenched my teeth. “Not until you tell the police and the medics what you put in the girls’ cocktails.”

  She wriggled in my grip like a floundering fish. “Rape,” she screeched. “Police!”

  Large hands lifted me off Charlotte. “Calm down, Emilia,” said Henry. “She’s trying to make herself look like the victim.”

  A male police officer ran over with his female colleague a few feet behind. “What’s going on here?”

  Charlotte pointed at me. “Didn’t you see her assault me? Arrest her!”

  “That is Charlotte Underwood, the daughter of Neil Underwood, the disgraced Cabinet Minister, and the organizer of this party,” I said between clenched teeth. “She sold tickets to boys from our school, promising them sex with girls they liked. Then to make sure the girls were compliant, she put something in their drinks.”

  “No,” spat Charlotte. “You put the drugs in the punch!”

  The policewoman turned to me with her lips pursed, as though I were the liar. “Alright. I need you both to come with me.”

  “But Emilia wasn’t even on the boat,” said Edward.

  The policewoman raised her brows. “And you are?”

  “Edward Mercia, Viscount Highdown.” He pulled out his wallet and showed them some ID.

  I held my breath and examined the policewoman’s face. Surely, that fancy title would sway her.

  She inclined her head a fraction. “And you can vouch for this young lady?”

  “We all can,” said Blake. “She drove down with us in the limousine.”

  The policewoman blinked as though she recognized Blake from somewhere, then her gaze darted to Henry, and her eyes widened with recognition. She smoothed her features into a neutral expression and asked, “And the other young lady?”

  “It’s as Emilia said,” Edward replied. “Charlotte Underwood organized this party.”

  Even more police officers arrived and took us all to one side, making sure to separate us from Charlotte. While more ambulances arrived to take the girls away, a huge coach pulled up at the side road. Either it was something that Charlotte had organized, or one of the boys had called their parents to send transportation back to the academy.

  Long after the Saturday Correspondent reporters had climbed into Tom’s black van and left, and the ambulances had pulled away, we all stayed at the waterfront giving our details to the police. No matter what we said, they wouldn’t arrest Charlotte. I supposed they suspected we were bullying her. That, or she had a guardian angel.

  The police escorted the boys onto the coach and stopped the traffic on the main road for it to reverse out.

  “Good riddance,” muttered Henry.

  “What a disgusting bunch of bastards,” added Blake.

  Edward rubbed his temples and sighed. “I’m just grateful for Charlotte’s incompetence.”

  “Just think of what would have happened if she had made the girls compliant instead of violently sick.” I shuddered.

  A limo pulled into the side road, and the policewoman asked, “Is that your transportation, My Lord?”

  “It is,” replied Edward.

  “Alright, you lot.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the road. “You’re free to go.”

  Duncan sagged. “At last.”

  Henry placed a protective arm around my waist, reminding me of the reason he had wanted to come down to London. Mr. Carbuncle. Even if the janitor was hiding in an alley, I doubted he would cause trouble with the boys surrounding me and with so many police officers milling about, but I kept close to his side, just in case.

  Resting my head on Henry’s shoulder, I muttered, “I can’t believe she got away with yet another heinous crime.”

  Henry pressed his lips on my temple and guided me into the limo. My torso ached so much, I slumped into the nearest seat and didn’t scoot up.

  “We still have a few more weeks until the end of term.” Blake stepped in after me and sat at my side. “Plenty of time to even the score.”

  Edward climbed in and sat next to Blake, and Henry entered and sat on Edward’s other side. Duncan was the last to enter, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I’d probably sleep for the rest of the journey and roll into breakfast late tomorrow on Sunday.

  Charlotte stepped into the limo.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I snapped.

  Her eyes flashed. “You heard the police. They want us out of here.”

  “Let’s leave this area,” said Edward. “We can deal with her in a moment.”

  She gave him a grateful smile and settled into the seat next to Duncan. “Thank you, Edward.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and didn’t reply.

  The limo backed out of the side road and drove away from Tower Bridge into a street occupied by offices and very little else. After ten turns, we reached a heavily trafficked road that led to the bridge. Edward clicked on the intercom. “Could you stop the car, please? One of us wishes to leave.”

  I turned to Charlotte
and snarled, “Get out.”

  Her mouth opened and closed, and she gaped as though we were leaving her in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

  “Get out,” said Blake, “unless you want Emilia to drag you out by the hair.”

  “What?” Charlotte glanced through the window. “But it’s deserted out there.”

  “So was that empty apartment with your brother and Mr. Carbuncle,” I spat.

  “But that wasn’t me!”

  The driver opened the door, letting in the roar of fast-moving traffic, but Charlotte didn’t budge. “Please… Don’t leave me out here. What if something happens to me?”

  “She has a point, chaps,” said Duncan. “It looks rather dangerous out here.”

  “Then get out and keep her company,” I spat.

  Duncan lowered his gaze and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Alright.” She stepped out of the limo. “But if I get hurt, my boyfriend will make your life a living hell, Emilia Hobson!”

  “Maybe he can pick you up,” I snapped. “Carbuncle might need someone to accompany him on the run.”

  The driver shut the door, rushed back into his seat, and pulled away, leaving Charlotte on the side of the road, holding her high-heeled pumps. I stared after her, insides still roiling with fury. After everything she had done, I couldn’t feel an ounce of pity for the wretched bitch.

  Blake slipped his hand into mine. “Are you alright?”

  “Much better, now that she’s gone.”

  The limo drove through London and into a familiar street.

  “There’s the Royal Academy,” said Edward.

  Blake snickered. “Do you remember getting thrown out for just talking to Emilia?”

  “You must not touch the woman of Mr. Bachmann,” Henry mimicked in a thick, Russian accent.

  I glanced up at the throng of people leaving the royal academy. A few photographers stood on the edges of the red carpet, politely taking photos of the leaving guests. It was nothing like the feeding frenzy I’d endured with Blake in Kensington Town Hall.

  One of the guests, a blonde woman sashaying down the red carpet, caught my eye. She stood six-feet tall, wearing the kind of magenta tuxedo dress Mrs. Simpson-West would die for… if only she had the height. Its silk collar and lapels shimmered in the light of the camera flashes.

  Just before she entered her car, I glanced at her face, and a boulder of shock hit me through the gut.

  “M-mom?”

  “Stop the car,” said Edward into the intercom.

  The limo slowed, but before it stopped, I opened the door and stumbled out.

  “Emilia!” someone snarled from the limo.

  I ran alongside the row of parked cars, heart racing, my eyes fixed on Mom’s car. Her Bentley pulled out from the space, and I ran in the middle of the road, not giving him the chance to overtake me.

  “Fuck, Emilia!” shouted Blake from behind.

  The car stopped, and I placed my hands on its warm bumper, scrambled around its perimeter, and pounded on the back door.

  “What are you doing?” said the stern voice of the driver.

  “It’s alright.” Mom stepped out and beamed. “That’s my daughter.”

  Blake grabbed my shoulder. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

  Mom rushed forward and wrapped me into a Chanel Number Five-scented hug. My arms hung lifelessly at my sides. How could she act so warm after ignoring me for three terms?

  “It’s so wonderful to see you,” she murmured into my ear. “I know you’re busy, but it means so much to me that you changed your mind about coming to London.” She drew back and beamed, her gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is this Charles? I don’t know why you refused to send me a photo. He’s gorgeous!”

  “Ummm…” Where did she get that name? I exchanged a confused glance with Blake and made introductions. My mind whirred with possibilities. Mom’s eyes were as sharp as ever, so I could rule out drugs. Henry and Edward strolled over, and I introduced them to Mom.

  Her brows drew together. “You never mentioned any of these handsome devils in your texts!”

  My thoughts jumped to Edward’s father, and my throat closed up. A car beeped as it overtook the Bentley and beeped again as it overtook Edward’s limo.

  “L-let’s continue this conversation on the sidewalk,” I said.

  We all moved out of the road, and the boys surrounded me like bodyguards. An idea formed in my head that would explain Mom’s strange behavior, but it was too heinous to voice… Yet. I kept her talking, trying to eke out what had happened on her end.

  She told me we had texted each other daily, and I updated her with my heavy workload at Mercia Academy but had refused to send her any pictures of myself and my friends. I hadn’t received a single text from her, and hadn’t told her anything about my life at the academy, so who the fuck impersonated me and gave her all these bogus facts?

  “I know what’s happened.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Mom’s head tilted to the side. “What are you talking about, darling?”

  My mouth opened and closed, and I stared into her smoky eyes. Mom overreacted all the time. If I told her tonight, she would probably confront Rudolph, and one of two things would happen. Either Rudolph would arrange for Mom or me to get hurt, or he would twist facts around to make me look like a psycho jealous of her own mother’s happiness.

  Cold fury filled my veins, and I paused, needing time to work out how much Rudolph had done to Mom and me over the last nine months, and how I could pay him back for everything I'd suffered.

  Mom’s smile faltered. “Darling?”

  “It's been a strenuous few hours.” I gestured at the boys who still stood behind me like a human shield. “Hey, Mom?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I lost my phone recently and had to get a new one. Can you call my number?”

  Confusion crossed her features, but she pulled her phone out from her purse and clicked the icon marked EMILIA.

  My phone, which had the same number as before, didn’t even vibrate. Someone must have hacked into her smartphone and changed the number she held for me to the impostor’s. That same person must also have changed Mom’s number, so I wouldn’t reach her. With her Manhattan apartment sold, I would have no way of contacting her except via Rudolph.

  I schooled my expression and handed her my smartphone, “Why don’t you tap your number in here, and I’ll call you back?”

  “Sure.”

  Palpitations reverberated in my heart, sending shockwaves of fury through my bones. Fucking Rudolph. Not only had he sent me away to Mercia Academy, but he had changed Mom’s number and gotten someone else to impersonate me and exchange messages with her. Was he so insecure about his relationship with Mom that he needed to keep us apart?

  She handed back my smartphone, and I held onto her hand.

  “Are you happy, Mom?” I asked.

  A smile broke out across her face. “I think so. Rudy’s so busy with his companies, and I have my functions. It works.”

  My face remained impassive, but on the inside, my blood boiled with the need for payback. Theories slotted into place in my mind, but I needed time to think. “How long will you be in London?”

  “Until Monday morning, then I’ll fly to Paris. Why?”

  “Because I want to meet you tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a card for The Dorchester Hotel.

  I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, “See you tomorrow. Can we meet for breakfast?”

  She kissed my temple and drew back, cupping my face in her hands. Happy tears filled her eyes, and I wondered if she had spent months fretting over why I had been so distant.

  “I’d love to,” she murmured.

  The four of us walked back to the limo in silence, and a bunch of questions rolled to the forefront of my mind. Who told Charlotte I was the Saturday Correspondent leak? Who was rich
enough to fund Charlotte’s education and pay for her cosmetic surgery? How was Mr. Carbuncle able to disappear, despite being wanted for kidnapping and assault? Who kept making Charlotte’s criminal problems go away?

  They all had the same answer: Rudolph.

  At the time, it had seemed odd that Blake had found me before the reporters and the police. They should have been able to work out which floor I’d been taken by the footage or the number of times I’d been bumped on the stairs. Jackie hadn’t once mentioned never hearing Charlotte discuss a party she had been planning in London. Had she known I would walk into an ambush? Why had I been sent up there alone, when there were interns in the back of the van?

  Hot, furious breaths steamed out from my nostrils. Everything was consistent with Rudolph’s desire to build up the Saturday Correspondent and to separate me from Mom.

  If I eventually succumbed to Mr. Carbuncle’s rages and died, who would be there to pick up the pieces for Mom? That sick, twisted old fuck. That’s who.

  I stepped into the limo and leaned back into its leather seat. As soon as the boys had settled in, I clicked the intercom button.

  “Turn the car around,” I said. “We’re going back for the young lady we left behind.”

  END OF BOOK THREE

  READ BOOK FOUR

  Payback

  Kings of Mercia Academy Book 4

  Chapter 1

  The limo drove down Pall Mall, an elegant street of historical, stone-fronted buildings, whose lights resembled something from the nineteenth century. Everyone sitting in the back, Duncan included, turned their gazes in my direction.

  I supposed it was rash of me to instruct the driver to turn the car around without informing the others, but the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced Rudolph was behind my recent abduction. I just needed Charlotte to confirm it.

  “Emilia?” Edward tilted his head to the side. The artificial lights streaming in through the vehicle’s windows made the ends of his mahogany hair shine like rubies. “Anything the matter?”