by Gemma Weir
But I can’t spend time with Priss’s twin tonight. Tally might be my friend, but I can’t look at her identical face without thinking of her prickly sister. If Priss’s lack of reply has taught me anything it’s that me and my dick need to forget all about Carrigan Archibald.
12
Carrigan
Carson - I want to fuck you again.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve read his message, but no matter how many times I close down the app, then reopen it again the words never change. I don’t understand. He was the one who said one time only, that was his rule not mine. Not that I ever expected either of us to be interested in a repeat performance, but regardless that was his condition.
He got to be in charge, no condom, and one time only. Those were his rules.
My skin shivers a little as I think about the sound of his voice when he said those things, about the feel of his hands on me, his dick inside of me. It’s only been a couple of days but already the pain has faded from the memory, and now all I can see and feel and taste when I think about us together is pleasure. So much pleasure, that now I’m not sure how much of it was real and how much is a fabrication I’ve created to gloss over the fact that it was just an act and not something deeper.
I know he’s expecting a reply, but I have no idea what to say. He hates me. When we had sex it was for a purpose—to break the will—so what reason would we have for doing it again?
Staring desolately at the generic hotel room around me I choke back the sob that threatens to consume me. This morning after I decided not to go to school, everything that’s happened in the last few days all hit me at once.
I don’t have anywhere to live, my parents hate me, the money is gone and with it everything I envisaged my life would become. My sole purpose for being was getting that money and now I have no idea who I am and what to do.
My trust fund is large enough that I don’t have to worry about money, but do I buy a house, an apartment, or do I just stay at this hotel until I graduate and go to college? I’m so used to having my days, my weeks, my life planned out for me, that now all those plans have fallen by the wayside I don’t know what to do.
I’ve picked my cell up, poised to call my mom three times already today, because without her unyielding structure I’m not sure I even know how to exist. For the last few years she’s instructed me on everything from my hair and clothes, to my friends and classes. She’s organized my life in a series of dinners, events, and parties, and now that none of that matters anymore, my life is just one long empty calendar.
Tallulah would tell me this is my opportunity to discover who I am and figure out what I want to do, but I’m not her. She’s brave and I’m weak. If this will has taught us both nothing else it’s the fact that when faced with life altering decisions, she will do the right thing and I’ll just do as I’m told.
The thought of going back to St Augustus is almost unbearable. By now everyone will know that I’m no longer poised to inherit billions and without it, I’m just a bitch without her pedestal.
There are other prep schools in the city and hundreds across the states, I could enroll somewhere else, where no one knows who I am, where my surname isn’t recognized and isn’t important. I could finish out my senior year and then go to college. But the reality is that I’m not sure I can get through college without my sister to do the work for me. Apart from a couple of electives, my sister has taken all of my core classes for me for years, she’s the smart one, not me.
Tallulah would help me if I asked her to, but isn’t that what started all this mess, her coming to my aid because I wasn’t smart enough to succeed on my own. No. I’ve already fucked over my twin enough, this is my problem and I need to grow a pair and figure out how to stand on my own two feet.
Tomorrow I need to go back to school, I’m Carrigan Archibald and if nothing else I know how to act like I’m the smartest person in the room.
It’s harder than you’d think to find a prep school uniform at short notice, but there’s no way I’m going to collect my clothes from my parents’ house. By now they’re probably on a beach somewhere avoiding the scandal I caused when I broke the will and my mom attacked me in a room full of high society, but I still don’t plan on going back home to find out.
Dressed in the familiar St Augustus uniform I feel a little more centered than I did yesterday. Out of habit I bought straighteners to do my hair in my custom poker straight style, but this morning something stopped me. Maybe it’s my backbone clicking back into place and reminding me who I am. I’m not sure but whatever it is, it pushed me to do something out of character. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I twist from side to side admiring the halo braid that curves around my head and the loose strands that fall in waves on either side of my face.
Buttoning up my blazer I smooth down the front and glance down at the white socks that cover my knees, reaching almost to my mid-thigh, leaving just an inch or two gap between them and the hem of my skirt that’s a little shorter than I’d normally wear it.
I know most people hate the uniform, but I’ve always loved it. The plaid skirts, the navy blazers, they make me feel like I’m in gossip girl or one of those high school romance films Tallulah loves so much.
For the first time ever I wish I knew how to drive, then I could take myself to school now that I no longer have a driver, but instead I’ve arranged for a car service to pick me up and deliver me to St Augustus. I’m nervous, but I refuse to show it, so I sling my satchel over my shoulder, stare at myself for a second longer in the mirror, then leave the sanctuary of my hotel room and head downstairs to wait for my car.
I’ve timed my car to get me to school exactly five minutes before the bell rings. This way I won’t be the last person to enter the building, but the majority of the other students will already be at their lockers and hopefully I won’t have to deal with the gauntlet of staring faces the moment I get out of the car.
I call on all my years of self-important bravado and etiquette classes to provide me with enough confidence to stride to my locker with my head held high. I won’t cower, even though a part of me wants to.
The moment I take my seat in homeroom, Emma Handsworth rushes to my side. “Oh my god Carrigan is it true?” she asks, her eyes wide and horrified. She’s the younger sister of one of the guys on my great-grandfather’s list, her family is old money, but they were never prestigious enough for my parents to ever let me consider marrying her brother.
“Is what true?” I ask, turning to face her, my expression masked by my all too familiar air of superiority.
“That you’re broke?” she shrieks.
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Don’t be absurd Emma.”
“Fine, not broke, but I mean is it true that the money’s gone?”
“The money isn’t gone, it still exists, but if what you’re asking is, if I’m still in line to inherit it, then the answer is no,” I tell her dispassionately.
“What happened?” she asks, taking a physical step back from my desk as if my lack of inheritance could be contagious.
“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business,” I snap.
“Wow, there’s no need to be a bitch,” she sneers, looking down her nose at me as she turns and moves back to her desk two rows behind mine.
My eyes fall closed and I pull in a slow reaffirming breath. When I was going to be worth billions I could have told that girl to lick the dirt from my shoes and I’m pretty sure she would have done it just to carry my favor, and now she’s calling me a bitch to my face.
If only she knew how awful I truly was, I’m sure she’d be calling me something much worse than that. Her words have confirmed one thing though, everyone knows.
The morning drags, each moment feeling like a thousand, as I ignore all the pointed glances my classmates give me. I can almost feel their thoughts; How the mighty have fallen.
Money really is power and without it, I’m just another rich girl in a school
full of rich kids. I’m a no one, the bottom of the totem pole and it’s only a matter of time until someone decides to remind me of that.
“Carrigan.” I hear my sister’s voice a moment before she barrels into me, her arms reaching around me as she pulls me in for a hug. I freeze, the physical contact from her unexpected and a little weird. Our family are not huggers, in fact we’re not tactile at all. I can probably count on one hand how many times either of my parents has hugged me. But then Tallulah has never been like the rest of us.
When I don’t reciprocate her embrace she pulls back, melting into Arlo’s arms when he appears behind her. “Are you okay? Where are you staying?” she asks.
“I’m fine, I’m at a hotel for the moment,” I tell her stiffly. Even though we’ve become less hostile toward each other the last month or so, I don’t feel comfortable being around her like this, when she’s being so nice. I deserve her hate; I want her hate. I have no idea what to do with all this concern she keeps showing me.
“What hotel? Why don’t you come and stay with me and Arlo? That’s okay isn’t it?” she asks her fiancé.
“Of course,” he says, looking down at her with so much love I feel a little sick. It’s not that I begrudge my sister and Arlo their happiness, it’s more that I don’t know how to deal with it. I never thought I’d have that. Marriage was always going to be an arrangement for me, so to see them actually fall in love seems odd. “I’m fine, but thank you for the offer,” I say, shouldering my bag and turning to leave, not wanting to spend more time than I have to with the happy couple.
“Wait, where are you going?” my sister asks.
“Lunch,” I say, not turning to look at her as I continue to walk away.
“Why don’t you sit with us?” she says, and I can practically hear the hope in her voice.
If I was a nicer person I’d embrace her olive branch. In fact most people would be overwhelmed by how generous my twin is being toward me, considering my behavior for the last few years. But the truth is that I’m not a nice person. “Look,” I say, spinning around to face her. “I know you think I’m just like you, and that now we have this bond or whatever. But nothing’s changed Tallulah. We’re not friends, all this didn’t unite us. I did what I had to do to save myself, and it worked out that it saved you too. So let’s not pretend that we’re real sisters or that we’re going to skip off into the sunset together, because we’re not, okay.”
I turn to leave and gasp as I almost slam straight into Carson, his brows furrowed together, his eyes hard. Without another word I step past him, my head held high, and make my way into the cafeteria alone, leaving my sister and her new family in my wake.
I’ve always enjoyed the feel of the envious glances from the other students, knowing they were looking and wishing they were me. But today all I feel is the lack of eyes, no one’s looking at me anymore, no one gives a crap about me. Because now I’m the poor relation of Tallulah Archibald, the fiancé of Arlo Lexington, part of the power alliance that will see him, Watson Hilborn, Oliver Montgomery, and Carson Windsor take the business world by storm when they come of age.
I’m invisible, unimportant, unremarkable, and for the first time since I gave Carson my virginity and broke the will, I regret my decision. I regret walking away from a fortune. I regret ignoring my parents and I regret making myself forgettable again.
13
Carson
Anger bubbles up my throat so hot I can feel it burning as Carrigan brushes past me and walks away. I have to fight the urge not to reach for her and drag her back to me, demand she apologize to her sister, demand she be the girl she was with me, not the harpy we all expect of her.
But right now making sure my friend is okay is more important and so I focus all of my attention on Tally. “Are you okay?” I ask, watching as Arlo pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
“I’m fine. I should have known better than to expect her to have changed because of this. I just sort of hoped she would,” she admits quietly.
“She’s a bitch,” Arlo hisses angrily.
“Maybe the reality of what’s happened has hit her now she’s back at school,” Olly says, but it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.
“Let’s go get some lunch, they have the gnocchi you love on today,” Arlo coaxes, pressing a kiss to Tally’s forehead and leading her toward the lunchroom while the rest of us follow.
I make a point not to look for Carrigan when we enter the cafeteria as a group, I’m angry and if I see her, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my tongue, so instead I focus on my friends. We sit at the table we always sit at, and Olly places all of our food orders while we chat shit and wait for it to be delivered.
Tally is to my right, her blazer hanging over the back of her seat. My eyes catch on the small inside pocket and before I can stop myself, I’m leaning forward and sliding the old key that’s hidden in there free from the fabric and concealing it in my hands.
The first time Arlo saw Tally she was sneaking out of the old disused dark room. She used it as a place to hide from her sister, and the rest of the school when none of us had any idea she even existed.
I haven’t really thought about that room since the day I stood guard outside of it, after Arlo proposed to Tally publicly in front of half the school. I don’t think she’s been inside the room since. Arlo forced her to stop hiding that day and since the first confrontation with her parents, we’ve made it our mission to make sure everyone at St Augustus knows who she is.
Dropping the key into my pants pocket, I pull my cell out and type a message before I can stop myself.
Me – We need to talk. Meet me by the lockers in two minutes.
Expecting her to ignore me, I lift my head and scan the room for her, finding her at her usual table, only instead of surrounded by minions like she’s always been in the past, she’s alone.
I watch her read the text, then turn to look at me, her expression shuttered. Smug satisfaction fills me as I watch her slide her cell into her purse, take a forkful of her food, then push away from the table, grab her stuff, and leave.
“I’ll be back in a bit, I forgot something in my car,” I say absently, as I rise from the table and slowly leave the room. Priss is stood by our lockers, her posture relaxed and confident like she hasn’t got a care in the world.
When I reach her side, I allow my gaze to lock with hers, I let my eyes harden and enjoy the visible swallow she has in reaction. Tipping my head in the direction of the dark room I walk past her, not looking back.
She can’t see my smile when I hear her move to follow me, but a sense of power rushes through me at her willingness to still do as I say. It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the door to the dark room and I take the key from my pocket, checking that no one is watching as I unlock the door and gesture for Carrigan to go inside.
Following her in I close and lock the door behind me, only then realizing that I have no idea why I’m here, why I told her I needed to talk to her, or why I wanted her alone in this room with me.
“What?” she snaps after what feels like an eternally long silence.
“You upset your sister.”
“Are you serious? You bought me to this dusty, empty room so you could tell me off for upsetting my sister,” she hisses, rolling her eyes, annoyance pouring from her in waves.
“You’re being a bitch Priss,” I snarl, taking a step closer to her. I’m stalling, because I still don’t know why I bought her here. All I know is that I wanted to be near her, that I want to touch her.
“So I’m told,” she says sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip, her lips pursed together.
“You never replied to my message,” I say, closing the distance between us with another step.
Her shoulders tense perceptively and her arms seem to cross a little tighter. For a moment I wonder if she’s scared. I’ve never hurt her, never done anything without her being right there
with me, loving it as much as I was.
I watch as her tongue bobs out, coating her lips in shiny wetness. Her mouth is full and pouty but I’ve never kissed her. It felt too intimate, which is ironic considering I’ve tasted her pussy. The other morning I never even considered pressing my lips to hers, but right now I’m so tempted. I’m tempted to close the final gap between us and take her mouth, own it like I own the rest of her.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.
“What am I doing?” I ask, smiling as I reach out and run the back of my knuckles over the apple of her cheek.
She swallows, trying to turn her face away from my touch but not moving far enough to actually free herself. “It was just sex, to break the will, that’s all.”
“Did you enjoy it?” I ask, stroking my knuckle down her cheek until I can grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger.
“Carson.”
“Did you like the way it felt to have my tongue, my fingers, my cock inside you,” I purr seductively, lifting her chin up and forcing her to look right at me.
“I…”
“Did you enjoy giving up control to me and letting me use you. Did you like it when I made you come over and over?”
Her lips part but no words come out. She’s not Carrigan right now, she’s not caustic and antagonistic, she’s soft and pliant, she’s my Priss.
“If you want to leave, then go now, I won’t stop you. But if you stay I’m going to touch you. Pick, make a decision right now, you have a minute,” I say, dropping my hold on her and taking a step back, leaving her path to the door clear.
Silently I count down, keeping my gaze locked with hers, waiting for her to move. She shuffles on the spot, crossing and uncrossing her arms, but she doesn’t leave.
