by Lexi C. Foss
Ella studied me intently, that brain of hers no doubt flying through a series of scenarios. “Why would you care about my safety?” she demanded.
“Because I like you,” I admitted, leaning back into my booth. “And I don’t much care for Dash or Charlie.”
“Yet you’ve been hanging out with them all week.”
“Spying on me, dove?” I waggled my brows. “All you need to do is ask for my time and it’s all yours.”
She snorted. “Stop with the flirtatious diversions. What’s your play here?”
“Who says they’re diversions?” I countered, cocking my head. “And my play here is simple. I want you, Ella.”
“Uh-huh.” She narrowed those beautiful eyes at me. “Why?”
“Because you’re special.”
She gave me a look. “Seriously, that’s the best you’ve got? At least Dash called me beautiful and commented on my intelligence. You’re going with the bare minimum in an attempt to lure me to my humiliation.” She leaned forward, her voice pitching low. “You’ll have to do a lot better than that.”
“Lure you to your humiliation,” I repeated, mulling it over. “Now, see, I think you’re playing this game all wrong, Ella.”
“It’s not a game.”
“Everything in this world is a game, darling.” She just hadn’t realized it yet. “You’re just reluctant to take on your role. But I can help you. And together, we’ll win.”
She arched a brow. “Win what?”
“The war between you and your evil-as-fuck stepsisters.” I unbuttoned my jacket and spread my arms out across the back of my side of the booth, loving the way her eyes tracked every move. “By the time we’re done, they won’t know what hit them.”
She contemplated for a moment, distrust a heavy emotion in her features. Considering our brief acquaintance, I couldn’t blame her. And given everything she’d been through, she would need more than a few words from me to prove my point.
Which gave me an idea.
“How about this,” I said, leaning forward once more and lowering my voice. “Give me tonight. Let me show you what I have in mind. If you don’t like it, we’re done and I won’t interfere in your circle anymore. But if you do like it”—which I knew she would—“we’ll continue. And I promise that, by the end, your stepsisters will see justice for the hell they’ve put you through.”
“You speak about my background like you know so much about me.” Ella started tapping against the table, her expression skeptical. “Are you stalking me, Nacht?”
I grinned. “If I said I was, would you believe me?”
“I’d believe Ryan put you up to this crap,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “That would explain your comment about my stepsisters putting me through hell.”
“Or perhaps I’m observant and studied the school dynamics before transferring in.” Which was exactly what I did.
“Okay, say I believe that.” Her tone told me she absolutely did not believe it but was humoring me with a hypothetical situation. “What’s in it for you? Why help me seek justice, as you put it.”
“Because I like you, Ella.”
“Right. Because I’m special.” She used air quotes around the word. “I’m going to need more than that, Tray.”
I scratched my stubbled jaw, considering what I could offer to change her mind. “You realize the reason your stepsisters are so hell-bent on tormenting you is because they’re jealous, right?”
Her brow crinkled. “Jealous?” She released a humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay. Also, changing the subject won’t improve my opinion of you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m working toward my explanation, darling.” I paused to accept the drinks Belinda dropped off, then refocused on Ella. “You have the power to be the queen of Darlington Academy. It makes you a threat. That’s why you’re a target.”
“Right, so clearly you’ve not been stalking me.” She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “They hate me because they seem to think my father favored me.”
“That’s part of it, but not all of it,” I argued. “You’re gorgeous, Ella. Something they’ve gone out of their way to hide, but even Charlie and Dash still notice. Hell, everyone does. With my help, you could rule that school.”
“And let me guess—you’d stand by my side in the process?”
I shrugged. “It’d be a benefit, yes.” But my primary goal was to see those fuckers pay for what they’d done to her.
“Hard pass,” she tossed back at me. “I have no desire to become queen bee of any academy.”
Which only made her more perfect in my eyes.
Still… “You have no desire to make them pay for what they’ve done?”
“Again, you make it sound like you’re familiar with my past.” Suspicion glinted in her gaze. “Where did you move here from?”
“It doesn’t take a genius to realize they’ve made your life a living hell,” I countered, deflecting her inquiry. “What surprises me is how little you care about the possibility of getting revenge. Most would jump at the chance.”
“Because I know it’s futile.”
“Do you?” I steepled my fingers on the table and captured her gaze. “Have you tried?”
“What would you suggest I do, Tray? They own the school.” She lifted a brow as if to add, And that’s that.
“But they don’t own me.”
“That remains to be seen,” she replied coolly.
“Let me prove it to you tonight.”
Her eyes rolled heavenward. “This again.”
“My offer still stands,” I murmured. “Give me tonight to show you what I mean. If you like it, we continue working together. If you don’t, I’ll leave you alone.” At least in regard to seeking revenge. If she felt enough closure on the topic, then I wouldn’t push it. Instead, I’d just escalate my timetable on her recruitment into the fae world.
Done.
She blew a strand of hair out of her face and shook her head. “All right, fine. If it means you’ll leave me alone, I’ll play along.”
My lips curled. “Yeah?”
“Sure. Why not.” She didn’t sound the least bit excited, but I’d work on that. “So what’s the plan? How are you going to change my mind?”
I smirked. If only she knew. “Well, for starters, I’m going to need you to change out of those clothes and into something more formal.”
“That’s going to be a problem.”
“Why?”
“I don’t own a dress,” she replied, grimacing. “I’d have to borrow one from Ryan or Carmen, and…” She lifted another shoulder.
“It won’t do you justice,” I finished for her.
“I was going to say it won’t fit.”
That, too. “It’s not a problem. I’ll handle the dress. In fact, I’ll handle it all. You just have to play along.”
She arched a brow. “That sounds ominous, Nacht.”
“On the contrary, Cinder. I’m about to make all your dreams come true. After we eat.” Because I was starving. Then we’d begin.
Chapter Seven
Ella
What are you really up to, Trayton Nacht? I wondered for the thousandth time as I studied myself in the mirror. And how the hell did you pull this off?
Not only did he magically open a store for me to find a gown, but he also had a team come in to do my hair and makeup. I nearly protested the latter but decided the battle wasn’t worth my time. If he wanted to waste his money on this extravagance, then so be it.
The only reason I indulged in this little game of his was to figure him out. He had to be doing this for his own benefit. Maybe Ryan or Charlie put him up to it. Some sort of twisted test to see how well he could humiliate me.
Well, the joke was on him.
Because he’d purchased this gorgeous dress and probably spent a pretty penny on my hair and face. Oh, and the shoes. The silver stiletto heels gave me an extra two inches—which was nowhere near his over-six-foot height. All in all,
I suspected he wasted a little over a thousand dollars on this princess charade.
At least I looked good.
The slight V in the neckline gave me a hint of cleavage while the bodice tapered into my slim waist, and the skirt flowed down to my ankles. I twirled in the mirror, watching as the fabric swooshed around my legs.
The blue ball gown was totally over the top for Homecoming.
I loved it.
And more importantly, Ryan and Carmen would hate it.
Two birds, one stone.
I just had to keep my wits about me to determine Tray’s true motives, and it’d be a successful night. Well, apart from not knowing enough about him yet to write his biography. He was evasive at every turn, refusing to tell me where he attended school before the academy or how he had all these contacts throughout Darlington. It wasn’t a large town, yet I’d never heard of him until this week. And it seemed Charlie and Dash hadn’t either.
So who are you really? I thought as I picked up my blue clutch—another purchase I’d made just to round out Tray’s bill—and started toward the exit to where Tray waited for me. He hadn’t bothered to help with the dress selection or anything else, just introduced me to the team, handed over his card, and said he’d be outside if we needed anything.
As he’d set no limit to the expense, I had a little fun.
No, a lot of fun.
I wrapped my gloved fingers—another extravagant accessory—around the door handle and pulled it open.
Tray leaned against a limo parked next to the curb, his hands tucked into his suit pants and his focus on the starless night above. There was a hint of longing in his features, one that seemed to be distracting him from my arrival.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence.
He blinked and slowly drew his gaze to me, his irises reminding me of the black sky overhead as they heated in response to my attire. A slight shiver caressed my spine at the obvious approval in those dark, smoldering orbs. “You look gorgeous, Ella,” he murmured.
I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s amazing what a pound of makeup and a hairstylist can do. The dress isn’t too bad either.”
His lips curled as he shook his head, his messy auburn hair windblown from the incoming cold front. October in Massachusetts could go either way. Tonight seemed to be hinting at an icy winter to come.
Tray pushed off the limo, his eyes twinkling in the night as he stepped into my personal space to grab my hip. “It’s not the accessories that make you beautiful, Ella. It’s you.” He pressed his lips to my temple before moving to the side to offer his arm. “Shall we?”
I wanted to protest his compliment, but I bit my tongue and nodded instead. We were almost to the part where he revealed his true intentions. I’d let him think I believed this silly little game until then.
“Thank you,” I said as he helped me into the limo. My skirt took up half of the backseat, something that seemed to amuse him as he pushed some of the fabric aside to settle beside me. “What happened to your car?” I wondered out loud.
“Why? Do you prefer it over this extravagance?” he asked, picking up a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries and holding it out for me to pick one.
Indulging in one would ruin my lipstick. But I had a spare in my bag, thanks to the makeup lady. Another cost added to Tray’s account, no doubt.
I set my clutch to the side, plucked a big berry from the center, and took a bite instead of replying to what I assumed was a rhetorical question on his part. It seemed Trayton Nacht preferred countering inquiries rather than actually answering them.
He watched as I finished the berry, his attention on my mouth. I licked the juice from my lips and took another treat. Because why not? They were good and I’d always enjoyed strawberries.
The limo began to move, causing butterflies to stir in my belly. We were almost two hours late for the dance, which meant everyone would be there when we arrived—something I suspected might be the point of all this.
I took a third strawberry and waved the rest away, not able to stomach any more. They were delicious, but my nerves were getting the best of me.
Tray set the plate aside and turned to me. “Are you ready for a little experiment, Ella?”
“Depends on the experiment,” I replied, my insides twisting. Maybe the third berry was a bad idea. I shifted to place it on the platter and focused on him. “Why are you doing this?”
He chuckled. “I already told you why.”
“I want your real reason, Tray.” Because I didn’t buy for one second that he just wanted to help me seek retribution. There had to be another motive. No one did things out of the goodness of their heart. And this guy barely knew me. “Who put you up to this?” I asked, taking a new path in my questioning. “Ryan? Carmen?”
He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Give me tonight, Ella. I promise that, by the end, you’ll understand.”
Meaning he intended to reveal some of his cards at the dance.
Fine.
If he was hoping for a repeat performance of my breakdown from freshman year, he’d be disappointed. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of being made a fool.
“I’m not like the others at your school,” he added softly. “I’ll prove it to you.”
I shrugged, giving up. “Do your worst,” I dared.
“How about my best instead?” he countered, arching a brow.
I smoothed my gloved hands over my skirt. “Sure, Tray.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence. The palatial location hosting this year’s Homecoming seemed imposing and ominous as Tray assisted me out of the limo. Particularly with the way the sky hazed overhead, the clouds mingling with the moon high above. I half expected to see bats swirling around in the lamplights or an array of spiders climbing the stone walls. It would be appropriate for this time of year.
Alas, it was all decked out for the Homecoming dance Darlington Academy threw every fall on these decadent grounds. I wasn’t sure who owned the estate, but it was at least a hundred years old with a hint of European influence in the architecture.
Tray pressed his palm to my lower back, guiding me up the stone stairs and toward the giant wooden doors. Two men popped out from behind the pillars at the top to pull on the handles for us, causing me to move closer to Tray’s side. I hadn’t even noticed them in their black uniforms, and I didn’t particularly care for their abrupt appearance.
Pull it together, Ella, I told myself. It’s just a dance.
Except the last time I attended one, I’d run off in tears after having my heart shattered in front of my entire class.
At least that hadn’t happened here. That would have caused me to walk right back to the limo and demand Tray take me home.
But I could handle this.
Just breathe. Figure out what he’s up to. And leave.
Those three orders repeated in my thoughts as we navigated the long hallway toward the thudding bass. There weren’t a lot of decorations, mostly because the palace itself was already adorned in bronze and golds that boasted wealth and elegance in every corner. Even the marble floor appeared polished and rich. Floral arrangements mingled with low lighting, providing a romantic atmosphere that didn’t quite match the modern music playing beyond.
Tray paused on the threshold of a platform at the end of the corridor, his gaze capturing mine. “Are you ready?”
The last time I stood in a position like this, it was only minutes before my inevitable humiliation. Hopefully, Tray would follow suit and show his true colors sooner rather than later. I was ready to get this over with and couldn’t wait to put him right back in his place with my nonchalant reaction.
I refused to buy this whole helpful routine. Tray was definitely hiding something. Just like everyone else in this city.
“Ella?” He cupped my cheek, drawing me from my thoughts. “If you don’t want to do this, we—”
“I’m fine,” I cut in,
forcing a tight smile. “Let’s get this over with.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “What every man wants to hear on a date.”
“This isn’t a date, Tray. It’s a forced social experiment.”
His laughter died as he stepped into my personal space—something he seemed to enjoy doing—and walked me backward into a wall. He settled his palms on either side of my head, effectively caging me. “You’re right,” he murmured, lowering his face until his lips were scant inches from mine. “This is just an introduction.”
His mouth nearly brushed mine, only to skim my cheek as I turned my head at the last possible second. I felt his grin against my skin.
“Mmm, I like the way you play,” he whispered, his nose trailing along my jaw to my neck. The light touch drew goose bumps to the surface, eliciting a quiver from deep within. It was a direct contrast to the heat licking a path up my spine and settling in my chest.
“I’m not playing,” I replied, my voice hoarse to my ears.
He chuckled against my throat, his breath awakening a flutter of butterflies in my lower abdomen.
What is it with this guy? I wondered, pressing back into the wall and striving for distance. Charlie and Dash had done things like this to me before, but not quite. With them, I just wanted to shove them away. With Tray… some twisted part of me wanted to grab him. To touch him in return. To arch into him rather than cower against the surface behind me.
His teeth skimmed my pulse, causing my heart to skip a beat.
My fingers curled into my palm. “Tray…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say, couldn’t think beyond the way his body felt pressing into mine.
Hot.
Burning.
Need.
I swallowed, my eyes drifting closed. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, this couldn’t happen. I needed to wake the heck up, to push him away just like I did with Dash and Charlie. Trayton Nacht was not into me. This—
“Ella,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the column of my neck up to my ear and dismantling my focus once more.
