Faithless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 3)

by Ivy Fox

  “I know I’m not, but just humor me, okay. If you need anything, call me. I’ll be around, so it will only take a few minutes to get to you,” he replies, concerned. “I’m here for you, for whatever you need, okay?”

  “I know you are, Ollie.”

  You always are.

  Through the dark and through the light, Ollie is my constant.

  He must sense my thoughts, because out of the blue, he pulls me into his arms, pressing his hand to the nape of my neck, and kisses me deeply. It’s not one of his usually sweet and tender kisses. It’s one of his branding-to-the-soul type of kisses. The ones that always leave me breathless, weak at the knees, and aching for more. But right when I’m about to be swept into it completely, he pushes back, leaning his temple on mine, breathing the air from my lips.

  “I know you’re hurting right now, Snow. But don’t lose faith, okay. We are going to get through this. Together,” he promises, making my heart just as weak as my knees.

  “I love you, Oliver. You are always the bright light that guides me when I think the road is at its darkest,” I whisper, shutting my eyes just so I can feel his glowing love shower over me.

  “Good. Because you’re mine, and always will be.” He smiles shyly, making me reconsider if I should leave with Elle, or go home and bask in Ollie’s love and affection to keep my heart from splitting in two.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough of the lovey-dovey crap, you two. I get enough of that at home. Come on, Snow. Let’s blow this joint,” Elle orders, pulling my arm away from Ollie, obviously sensing my wavering resolve. Reluctantly he lets go of me, and before I know it, my face is hit with the blistering frost of the January air outside the courthouse.

  Just as I’ve become accustomed to, there are news crews and journalists as far as the eye can see. This trial has been considered a better show than any reality television on at the moment. I hate the sickos that take pleasure in seeing a good man go down without giving him the benefit of the doubt, just to make their petty lives seem better off. The term ‘innocent until proven guilty’ is a joke, since it seems Rome didn’t qualify for the same fair treatment. Not when the media prefer to vilify him at every opportunity.

  “Let’s go,” Elle commands, pulling me down the stairs and away from the flashing cameras.

  The minute my mother announced to the world that Rome and I had a relationship, my anonymity became a joke. My face is on every malicious blog and gossip magazine. I’ve become known as the girl who fell for a cold-blooded murderer—the pun of every host in late-night TV shows.

  I rush my step to keep up with my petit best friend, but instead of us getting into our town car, as I assumed we would, Elle whistles for a cab like a true New Yorker. The minute one stops for us, we step in and close the door on the madness outside.

  “Where to, miss?” the cab driver asks.

  “Just drive, buddy. There are a few extra benjamins if you close the partition window to let me and my sister talk in private back here,” Elle tells him sweetly, handing him a few bills over his shoulder.

  “It’s your dime, sweetheart.” He smiles, sliding the window, and begins to drive aimlessly around the city.

  “Why didn’t we take the car?” I ask, still gasping for air after the mad dash we just did.

  “Because it has a chauffeur with loose lips that can tell my brothers exactly what we are up to. We are up to something, aren’t we?” She raises her brow conspiringly, and I give her a nod.

  I then relax my head on the headrest, tilting it in her direction, and reply, “We are. But you’re not going to like it, though.”

  “Ah, honey, I haven’t liked most of the shit that’s been happening in my life for quite some time. I swear, the minute I turned seventeen, it jinxed the whole year for me.” She tries to joke, and my curiosity piques at her statement.

  Elle turned seventeen just days shy of her ski trip to Aspen with Chad during Thanksgiving. It was after this trip that their friendship seemed to cool down, and the new one with Saint began to heat up. As I’m about to ask if she wants to talk about it, she closes that door on me before I even have time to step a foot in that topic.

  “You know Ollie will call to check up on us in an hour or so, and Ash will be done tearing the Coen’s a new one by then, too. If you’ve got something brewing in that head of yours, we have to act fast.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, where are we going?”

  “To the Mannings. I’m going to see my mother,” I explain, my body stiffening with the mere mention of the woman.

  “Awesome.” Elle smiles wide from cheek to cheek. “Since that nurse lied through her teeth on the stand, I’ve been gunning to slap a bitch,” she adds, rubbing her hands together in delight.

  “I’d rather it didn’t come to that,” I beg, knowing that if we get physical with my mother, she’ll surely retaliate, and who knows who she’ll go after next just to spite me.

  “Sorry. No promises.” Elle just shrugs unapologetically, making me huff out a subdued sigh. “Fine!” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll try my very best to avoid scratching Vivienne’s eyes out. I just hope this visit is worth it, considering that I can’t get my hands on her.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Elle taps on the partition window, asking the cab driver to slide it open so she can give him the Manning’s address in Tribeca.

  Before I know it, I’m once again knocking on the door of Trevor Manning’s home. Luckily, we’re greeted by the housekeeper instead of Lace, which is understandable since she and her brother should be locked away in some classroom back at Pembroke High right about now.

  Even though the woman has never seen me, she immediately recognizes me. She kindly invites us to wait in the living room while she makes her way to inform my mother of her visitors.

  I’m not naive in thinking this stranger knows me because my mother is constantly mentioning my name. Her familiarity with me completely falls to my recent media popularity and paparazzi scrutiny.

  Only a few minutes pass, when I hear the familiar click-clack of expensive heels on the hardwood floors, announcing my mother’s arrival.

  “These frequent visits are becoming highly annoying, Holland,” my mother says in the form of a greeting. “It seems that I see you more in here than I did at home. It’s a tiresome way of getting my attention, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Vivienne. The manor was never your home,” Elle states, sitting elegantly on the couch, crossing her legs like she owns the penthouse.

  It never ceases to amaze me how Elle can switch from tearing a person’s head off with her teeth to looking poised and refined at the drop of a dime.

  “Oh, come, Eleanor, I thought we were friends,” my mother singsongs as she takes her seat on the armchair to Elle’s side.

  “I don’t think you know the meaning of the word. Weren’t you also my mother’s friend at one point? I wonder how she would feel, knowing that you are behind a deceitful scheme in trying to put her firstborn in jail?” Elle counters, curling her lip in disgust.

  “I think she would be one hundred percent in my corner. I am defending her husband, after all. Protecting her other children from Roman’s influence.”

  “My mother would spit in your face if she was here,” Elle grunts, her schooled grace and elegance starting to falter.

  “But she’s not, is she? I, however, am.” My mother smirks knowingly.

  I’m not sure she’s aware of how close she is in getting that bitch-slap that Elle mentioned earlier. I have to admit, I’m dangerously close to letting Elle have a go at her if it means I can finish the job afterward.

  “Come to think of it, I’m glad you came to see me, Eleanor. You have been on my mind recently,” my mother adds, raising my hackles with the gleam in her eye directed at Elle.

  “Really? And why is that?” Elle counters, falling for the bait my mother just threw at her.

  “Well, it
occurred to me that, with Rome in prison, it should fall on me to be your legal guardian. I know that Asher has been in contact with the social services regarding this matter, but I hardly feel it’s in your best interest for your brother to take on such responsibility. A smart girl like you will agree that a barely legal teenage boy isn’t prepared to handle such a strong woman like yourself, Elle. No, I feel you need a stronger hand to guide you. As a matter of fact, I should contact my lawyers to resolve this at once, don’t you think?” my mother coos, while Elle’s face grows crimson with hate.

  “Mother, enough!” I call out, not wanting her to torture anyone else if I can stop it.

  “Oh, you’re giving me orders now? That’s rich.” She laughs.

  “For once in your life, act like a decent human being and do what’s right. Stop throwing around threats and just forget this twisted sense of vengeance that you have going.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” she huffs out, looking bored.

  “Yes, you do, Mother. Just like I know you were the one who paid that nurse to lie for you on the stand today,” I deadpan, squaring my shoulders for her to see that I’m not backing down for a moment.

  “Me? I would never interfere with justice. I very much respect my late husband’s profession to go to such extents.”

  “Good thing we didn’t eat before coming here, or I would barf and ruin Mrs. Manning’s Persian rug,” Elle says sweetly, batting her eyelashes at my mother condescendingly.

  My mother, however, doesn’t like the flagrant cynicism one bit, so she gets up from her chair and throws us both an annoyed sneer.

  “Girls, if that is all you came here to say, then I’m sorry you wasted your time. I had nothing to do with Nurse Jenkins’ deposition today. The woman was merely doing what she felt was right, coming forward with her own description of the events. Telling the truth shouldn’t be derided as you two are doing. It’s an admirable trait I wish more people would have. Especially the people in this very room,” my mother scolds.

  “Are you kidding me?” I choke out, astounded by her ability to say such a thing with a straight face. “Are you going to give us a lecture in dignity and truth? Well, how about this truth bomb, Mother. I know you gave me to Malcolm. I know you were fully aware he never saw me as a stepdaughter, but rather a prey to ruin and tarnish. I know, Mother. I know!!!” I yell out, my calm facade also in shambles.

  My mother’s eyes widen, but her face reveals nothing.

  No remorse.

  No disgust.

  No concern.

  Not one goddamned thing.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, at last, her tone strict and unrepentant.

  She starts walking over to the bar at the side to pour herself a drink, but I stop her before she’s able to take another step. I grab her by the arm, my fingernails piercing through her skin at her wrist. It’s the same move she used to do to me when I was growing up—one that restrained me into listening to whatever nasty filth she wanted to torture me with on such occasions. But today, the tables have turned and I’m the one who wants her full attention. I’m the one who wants to see her hope erased from her eyes, and see her grovel and beg for my mercy.

  Me.

  Not her.

  “Enough games, Vivienne. I know you did. Malcolm told me before he tried to defile me. How could you, Mother?! I’m your daughter! Your own daughter! You just threw me to the wolves and didn’t lose one ounce of sleep about it. How can you live with yourself?” I roar.

  My throat starts burning with a crave to say more—so much more—but she snatches her wrist away from my grip, not caring about the small beads of blood falling to the floor. The hate brewing in her eyes takes precedent as she points a finger in my face, halting me from saying another word.

  “Stupid girl! If you say anything like this to anyone else, I will lock you up in a loony bin, so fast it will make your head spin. You hear me!” she threatens.

  I take a step back with her statement because I believe she could actually do something as sordid as locking me away in some mental institution, to keep her reputation intact. Lord knows she was able to get Rome arrested, making everyone presume him to be capable of murder. Fabricating a mental disorder to have me locked up just to silence me should be child’s play to her.

  “Are you suggesting that Holland is making this up?” Elle questions, already at my side to keep me from falling to the ground with the realization of the lengths my mother would go to.

  “Of course, she is! Malcolm was a good, honest man. He would never do anything my daughter is accusing him of. Listen to your heart, Eleanor. Do you really believe him capable of such a vile thing? Your father adored you. You were always his favorite. Would a man that gushed nonstop about his daughter, ever hurt mine?”

  Elle looks my mother dead in the eye, and the arctic chill that ensues freezes me in place.

  “You’re right. I was his favorite. And because I knew my father as well as I did, I also know what a monster he was. And something tells me that Holland knows exactly what type of monster you are, too, Vivienne. If I were you, I’d be very careful about what you do next. Karma is a bitch, one that’s itching to slap you with everything you’ve got coming. Be careful, Vivienne,” she warns with such a cold tone, it reminisces that of her father’s.

  I swallow dryly while I watch my mother turn pale and become mute, her words trapped in her throat, afraid to come out and suffer Elle’s fury.

  “We’re done here. Come on, Holland,” Elle says, slicing the eerie silence.

  I don’t look back once at my mother, and let Elle lead us both out of the Manning’s apartment.

  When we get downstairs, the loud, busy city around reminds us why we came here in the first place, and of our failed attempt to help Rome.

  “Well, that was pointless,” Elle huffs out, looking more like the girl who has a piece of my heart.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, genuinely concerned about her state of mind.

  “Don’t you even go and waste a minute worrying about me. I’m fine. It’s that bitch for a mother upstairs that you should be worrying about.”

  My shoulders slump at how true her affirmation is.

  “What now?” Elle asks, looking at me for answers, but unfortunately, all I have are questions.

  “Elle, tell me the truth. Do you think the jury will believe that Rome is innocent?”

  Her eyes grow sorrowful as she shakes her head, telling me what I also suspect to be the outcome of this whole ordeal.

  “No, Snow. I think they painted my brother as being the devil reincarnate. Unless something makes them change their minds, or some sort of exculpatory evidence comes forward, then I think the only way we’ll ever see Rome again is when we go up to Rikers to visit him.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I mumble, chewing my lower lip raw.

  “I know Ollie and Ash are doing everything they can, but I don’t think any of it will get Rome out. I think we need to face facts that nothing will,” she adds mournfully.

  “Except for the truth. The truth will get him free,” I counter, knowing there is only one way to play this, which is me doing the right thing because we have already waited too long.

  “Shit!” she roars. “We’re not going home, are we?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I explain, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in months with the decision I just made.

  “Good thing Rome is in jail then.” Elle winks, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Huh? Why is that?”

  “Because my brother would kill me if he knew I’d let you do this.” She giggles into her palm.

  “No, he wouldn’t. He loves you. If I’m honest, I’m more worried about what Ash and Ollie will do. They are going to lose their minds when they find out.”

  “Oh, please, those two I can deal with.” She laughs out as if the twins were wrapped around her little finger. Maybe we
all are and I just haven’t realized it yet.

  “So, you’re really doing this?” Elle repeats, making sure I haven’t changed my mind.

  “Yep,” I reply with a broad smile on my face. “Are you okay with that, though? What I’m about to tell the police will change everyone’s opinion about your father. They’ll finally know the truth. You think you can handle that?” I ask, concerned after the little tiff upstairs with Vivienne.

  But the loving, tender glow in Elle’s amber eyes tells me all I need to know. She wants me to do this as much as I do. She’ll never hold any of the blowbacks against me. And the next words that leave her mouth, just add to my resolve.

  “You’re my sister, Snow. Even if my brothers weren’t in love with you, you’d still be my sister. I know you haven’t had the best of luck in the family department, with that witch for a mom and your AWOL dad, but you’re a Grayson now. This family protects its own and supports each other. If this is what you want to do, I’ll be with you every step of the way. And most importantly, I’ll be damn proud of you, too.”

  She gives me a hug, and the way she tightens her hold on me makes me realize she needs this just as much as I do.

  “Thank you. I couldn’t have lucked out more in the sister department,” I hush out, brushing her long, dark locks away from her face. She discreetly wipes at the small, wet tears forming on the corner of her eyes, and I pretend I don’t see the emotional toll this has been on her.

  “Okay, enough of that. You are spending way too much time with my brothers. Flattery will get you everywhere.” She chuckles sheepishly, and before I know it, the loud whistle that comes from her lips halts another yellow cab in front of us.

  Elle opens the door, her features back to her brave ferocity once more.

  “Get in, hun. The clock is ticking, and we have to save Rome.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter 13

  Oliver

  I run like a madman through Liberty General’s hallways, frantically looking for room twenty-eight. Ash is at my heel, yelling to anyone with a pair of ears to show us where they have our girl.