by Ivy Fox
“No, Nana. That isn’t an option at all. We’ve discussed this already. I want no part in my father’s schemes.”
“They weren’t schemes; they were a failsafe. And it looks to me like you need one of those right about now. You don’t need to live in the city with that vile woman. Just pay her whatever ransom she asks for and stay here with me. Finish your senior year in Brookhaven and then do whatever your heart desires. You have the ends and the means to do what most only dream about,” she rants, still not willing to understand why I will not take her advice on this matter. I may not want a thing to do with my father’s money, but handing any of it over to Vivienne is out of the question.
“But at what cost? At whose expense, huh, Nana?” I retort back, hoping she sees reason. She scrunches her face in denial, but underneath it all, she knows I’m right. “No, Nana. I want no part of it. Just because you and Dad were able to hide all the properties and the Swiss bank accounts by legally transferring them to my name, doesn’t mean the money isn’t tainted. You know as well as I do it’s blood money, and I don’t want any part of it.”
I get off the bed, gaining some distance from my beloved nana and whatever new argument is burning away at her.
“I told you a million times before, Holland. The money was transferred long before your father got himself into his mess. They were all pure investments that bore fruit on my part. It shouldn’t matter what he did afterward,” she reiterates defensively.
“But it does, Nana. And you not being able to see how unethical this is, makes you just as bad as him,” I snap, and immediately want to swallow up the unfair words when I see the hurt in her eyes. I walk over to her, kneeling down beside her so she can see for herself how remorseful I am for lashing out so inexcusably. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Nana. But we’ve had this conversation before. Many, many times. When I’m old enough to have access to all of it, I’m going to give it back to the families that suffered most from my father’s greed.”
“He was my son, Holland. I knew all his flaws by heart, but deep down, he was a good man who did a bad thing. Don’t end up punishing yourself for his mistakes.”
“I’m not. I’m freeing myself from them.”
“Fine. Feel that way. But what’s your alternative? Live with your mother in a house full of strangers? Legally—as the witch so kindly reminded me—I cannot prevent her from taking you away, and if you’re unwilling to use the funds your father left you, then I don’t see how you’ll be able to escape her either.”
“It will only be for a year. I’ll finish school, get a scholarship like I planned, and never have contact with Vivienne ever again. Or if it gets too bad, then I’ll just wait it out until I turn eighteen and then come home. I promise, Nana. Everything will work out.” I try to minimize her apprehension.
“I don’t like it, child. I’ve seen what that woman can do. Vivienne trapped my son in a loveless marriage and manipulated him every day. She ruined Craig’s life. I was able to protect you all these years, but I’m afraid if you go, there will be no turning back. She’ll end up doing the same to you.”
“Then I guess I just won’t give her a chance.”
“I fear you already have.”
I look up at the imposing mansion located smack dab in the middle of the Upper East Side of Manhattan and swallow dryly, pushing the dread down to the pit of my stomach. It’s well past eleven at night, and the street is still alive with chattering people coming out of neighboring restaurants and establishments, completely oblivious to my impending doom. I should have arrived hours ago but found the littlest of things to delay the journey to my new home. But now my time has run out, and there is no way I can postpone the inevitable any longer.
I straighten my spine and summon all the courage I have to ring the bell. A few minutes pass, and no one comes to the door. I start to shift from one foot to the other with my increasing anxiety. I press the button one more time and a man dressed in a traditional butler’s attire—consisting of a black tailcoat, matching suit pants, silk bowtie, and white gloves—finally opens the large oak door. His brown eyes travel up and down my shaking form, unceremoniously making no effort in hiding his annoyance.
“Hi.” I choke, unprepared to face such hostility so soon. “I’m Holland West, Vivienne’s daughter,” I explain, desperate to end the awkward silence.
“Yes, I assumed as much. However, we expected your arrival hours ago. Mrs. Grayson was quite disappointed,” he snaps with an ingrained scowl on his lips. “Everyone has retired for the night.”
“Oh,” I mumble, not sure if I should be happy for not having to face my mother’s wrath tonight or disappointed she was the only one eager for my arrival.
“I’ll show you to your room. I believe Carmen should have unpacked your things by now since they arrived on time,” he relents bitterly, closing the door.
I bite my inner cheek, preventing myself from responding to his passive-aggressive statement. Instead, I put on my best smile and try to move the conversation to a new topic.
“Who’s Carmen?” I ask as I trail behind him. The foyer is luxurious, with a high ceiling, a crystal chandelier, and other very palatial furnishings that scream out an overabundance of wealth.
“Carmen is one of the chambermaids. She will be the one in charge of fulfilling any needs you may have, as well as the upkeep of your room and belongings,” he explains, stopping in front of what seems to be a side elevator. “As it’s late, she won’t be able to show you around, but I’ll have a word with her tomorrow.”
The elevator’s doors spring to life, and he enters, ushering me in with a little nudge of his hand. I could tell from the outside that this place would be huge, but to merit an elevator to get around is a whole other ballgame. Still, I have no intention of getting too familiar with these new surroundings. Knowing where to find my room and the kitchen is all I need to know. Any other area might mean I’ll run into the twins and, frankly, I’m not sure if my heart can deal with facing them yet.
“That really isn’t necessary,” I mumble, and the man beside me lets out a scoff, apparently offended by my lack of curiosity.
“You haven’t told me your name yet. Have you worked for the Graysons long?” I ask sweetly, hoping to thaw his sour mood.
“My name is Lawrence, Miss. I was hired by the previous Mrs. Grayson’s father. I’ve been a resident and faithful employee for over forty years now,” he informs me, not once looking in my direction, but eyes held firm on the closed elevator doors.
“I see. That’s quite some time. They must be like family to you.”
He tilts his head my way, his scrutinizing glare perusing me up and down again.
“Some are, yes,” he answers with a hint of distaste in his tone.
Seeing as the man has already made his prejudices against me, I refrain from saying another word. It’s not like his opinion of me is any better than most of the other people in this house, so I might as well get used to it. The doors finally open, and I trudge a step behind the butler as he ushers me to my room. Inside, there is a petite brunette turning down the comforter on my bed, so I assume this must be the chambermaid he spoke of.
“I’ll leave you to it, Miss. Breakfast is served at eight on the dot. However, if you’re unable to be on time for that as well, please inform Carmen what time she should bring breakfast to your room.” And without a further word, he bids us both goodnight and heads off.
“Well, he’s a bundle of laughs, huh?” I joke, placing my bag down on the plush, cream carpet.
The girl in the demure, black-and-white attire attempts to ignore me, but there is a tug of a smile threatening to reveal itself. Her dark-bronze skin glows under the soft lighting of the room, making her look much younger than she probably is.
“I’m Holland, by the way, but I guess you must know that already,” I nervously let out, hoping that at least one of the staff members isn’t as uptight as the butler. She lifts her head just a
n inch, her dark chestnut eyes inquisitive for a second, but then returns to her task.
I take in my new room and wonder if it’s always been decorated in white, or if it was my mother’s touch, giving it a hospital vibe. Even though each furniture piece is beautifully crafted, as is the four-poster bed, I’ve never been comfortable being surrounded by such sterile environments. I make a mental note to buy some colorful accessories to liven up the room. I’m positive I’ll be spending most of my time locked inside these walls, so I might as well make it bearable.
“Do you need anything else, Miss?” Carmen asks, head bowed down and her hands behind her back.
“No, thank you,” I respond gratefully, seeing as she stored away most of my belongings already. “Unless, of course, you have any advice for me?” I joke, making one last attempt at creating some rapport with her, but my tone is as empty as I feel inside.
She throws me a terse shake of the head, her gaze still not meeting my eyes, and starts walking toward the door.
“That’s what I thought,” I mumble to myself, sitting on the bed.
Carmen is about to leave the room when she halts under the doorway’s threshold and turns around, her stunning, brown eyes looking apprehensive.
“Miss?”
“Yes?”
“Lock your door,” she adds ominously and then rushes out without a further word.
The hairs on my neck stand up with her parting words and, without realizing it, I’m on my feet doing exactly what she suggested. The back of my head leans against the door, and I think to myself for the millionth time today, if I’m not setting myself up for further heartbreak. This house may be big, but I doubt it will be large enough to protect me from the hate its occupants have for me.
I replay all of my grandmother’s words of encouragement and support, and use them as my personal mantra. I take a deep breath and repeat each word with all the conviction I have until it becomes my own battle cry.
“I’m a fighter. I’ve survived worse than anything they can do to me. Just don’t let them see you break.”
Chapter 16
Asher
I almost choke on my forkful of pancakes when Elle walks into the dining room with Snow trailing right behind her. My sister is all smiles, but the demure girl pulling the chair at her side looks like she’s a dead woman walking toward her last meal.
“Ah, Holland, so glad you made it. I hope you found your room to your liking last night,” my father remarks, awfully cheerful this morning.
“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Grayson,” she replies evenly, never once making eye contact with Ollie or me. We are sitting across the table from her, so it takes a good deal of effort on her part to do this.
“There is no need for such formalities. You are part of the family now. I insist you call me Malcolm,” he adds softly.
My stomach churns, threatening to heave my breakfast with the way my father is acting all paternal-like. I guess I should be grateful that he at least didn’t ask her to call him daddy. That shit would have scarred me for life.
“I have to say, I was rather disappointed you didn’t arrive on time yesterday. Malcolm and I expected your presence at dinner last night. You could have called at least. A person’s manners speak volumes of their upbringing,” Vivienne interjects, taking a sip of her coffee and poorly disguising the scowl on her face.
The woman looks like she’s suddenly constipated. Before Snow came through the door, she couldn’t shut up about tonight and how excited she was, sounding like a giddy schoolgirl on crack. It was so over the top. I even whispered in Ollie’s ear that we should have grabbed breakfast at Starbucks as I had suggested. If it weren’t for our first swim practice today, I would have skipped breakfast altogether. An empty stomach would be preferable to hearing Vivienne’s shrill voice so early in the morning.
“My apologies, Mother,” Holland retorts, her head bowed down as she grabs a yogurt and a plate of sliced-up fruit.
I don’t know why it aggravates me to hear her respond to her mother so submissively, but it grates on my nerves to no end. I start to wonder if Snow may have shared with us her thoughts and true feelings about her mother after all. Perhaps it wasn’t a ploy—contradicting my recent suspicions—for us to relate to her better, seeing as we also have a dick for a dad. The way she used to describe her relationship with her mother doesn’t seem fabricated, now that I’m observing it up close with my very eyes.
Vivienne is a piece of work, and I doubt having her as a parent was easy. We’ve only lived with her for a few days, and I can’t stand the sight of her already. Still, I should sit back and enjoy Snow’s discomfort. Unfortunately, I just can’t bring myself to revel in her pain.
“If you had made it in on time, you would have learned that we are hosting a party tonight up on the roof for those guests that weren’t able to attend our wedding last month. I need you to buy something appropriate for the occasion,” the ice queen adds, now looking somewhat bored.
Snow nods again, and I don’t miss how my sister lightly squeezes her knee to grab her attention.
“How about after breakfast I take you to my favorite boutique in the Village? I’m sure we can find something together. It’ll be fun,” Elle invites happily.
Snow turns her head to face my sister, and the soft smile of gratitude she offers her sends razor-sharp knives into my gut. I used to be willing to do anything under the sun just to get one of those smiles thrown my way, but realizing that she will never gift me with one again is unbearable.
It’s hard to even look at her. As much as I try, I can no longer summon my hate for what she’s done. I can’t even focus on all the lies she’s told, to be able to bring the feeling of betrayal back to the forefront of my mind. All I seem to remember is how fucked up I treated her the last time we were alone together. I have been living in a bubble of guilt ever since, even knowing that the girl who broke my heart, as well as my brother’s, deserved far worse treatment.
Fuck. That night has me all sorts of messed up. As often as I replay it in my mind, I’m still having a hard time deciphering what was real and what wasn’t. As much as I wanted to deny it that night, wanting to take Snow in every way possible was—and still is—very prominent for me. It took a superhuman amount of effort not to cum inside that pretty little mouth of hers. Just the thought alone has my dick twitching in my pants, and I curse the fucker for not sharing in my shame. But I can’t fault my dick’s reaction when my mind has kept that memory playing on a torturous loop for the past two weeks.
She was so fucking beautiful on her knees, giving me all of herself, succumbing to my desire. She honestly believed I could never hurt her. The minute I turned my back to leave that wretched beach, it was as much to end her suffering as it was to end mine. In that very moment, I hated myself more than I hated her, and for that, I’ll never forgive Snow for what she did to me. Not only did she squeeze my heart into a pulp but she fucking ruined any lingering good I might have had inside of me. I’ve woken, night after night, in cold sweats remembering the hurt glaring in her eyes; how genuinely shattered she looked with each ugly word that cursed my lips. It was as if my actions had robbed the light from her, and left only the shadow of its true beauty.
Was she always this fine an actress and I just missed it? Or was any of her feelings real, and somehow it got twisted up in the little game her mother set her out to do? I’ve got so many questions, yet I’m unable to confront the only source who could give me answers. There would probably just be more lies, and I’m certain my hungry soul would eagerly lap them up and call them truths.
“I can show you around the city and, if you want, we can stop over at Pembroke to get your uniform, too,” I hear my sister joyously add, interrupting my moment of self-loathing.
“Uniforms?” Snow questions, surprised.
“Yes, everyone needs to wear one, unfortunately. But they’re not too bad. Actually, I think they’re quite cute, if you like the whole Cathol
ic schoolgirl look,” Elle teases with an exaggerated wink and giggle.
Shit!
Snow in those little, short, plaid skirts is going to be too enticing to resist—add a couple of braids to her platinum hair, and it will be the death of me. How the hell am I supposed to move on and forget about her when she’ll be walking the halls of Pembroke High, looking like temptation herself, with her fine ass and long legs under those tiny skirts?
This is hell.
I’ve died, and this is my penance.
“I’ll show you around today so you can get familiar with the school grounds. It might be a big place, but soon you’ll see just how small it really is,” Elle continues to rant.
“Too small,” Ollie murmurs beside me, stiff as a board, revealing he’s picturing the same distressing image as I am.
Pembroke’s campus might be massive, but if Snow is there, then there is no way it will be big enough for us to avoid her. With our bad luck, she might even attend the same classes as us.
“That would be nice. Thank you, Elle,” Snow answers gratefully, and another one of her genuine grins springs to life.
Never in a million years would I believe that one day I would be jealous of my kid sister. But damn it, today I am.
“Do you have any ideas about extracurricular activities you would like to attend? Being homeschooled, you might not have given it much thought, but trust me when I say that colleges are very demanding. They meticulously look at every aspect of a student’s life. Especially how they fill their free time,” my father announces at the head of the table, parting his wise advice as if Holland’s future was a concern for him.
What the fuck is his deal today?
“You said you liked music, right? I remember you wanting to take on Broadway one day,” Elle begins enthusiastically. “Maybe you could join the drama club? They hold a huge production every trimester so it will be a wonderful experience to get your feet wet.”
