by J. L. Beck
Walking into my room, I get ready for bed as well, brushing my teeth and stripping out of my clothes down to my boxers before I climb into bed.
Looking up at the ceiling, I lie awake in bed for so long I wonder if Scarlet actually did fall asleep on the couch. That idea is proven wrong when the door cracks open, and Scarlet tiptoes into my room.
I can’t hide a grin when she climbs into my bed and slips under the blanket, settling on the other side of the bed.
“What if I wake up in the middle of the night and don’t know where I am in my sleepy brain. It would probably freak me out.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Then I would be screaming and waking up everyone. I just don’t want to wake you guys up in the middle of the night.”
“That’s very considerate of you. Just don’t snore so loud.”
“I do not snore!” Scarlet whisper-yells.
We both chuckle, knowing that she does snore even though it’s only a cute, quiet snore that I may have recorded on my phone before to tease her with. The room falls into silence after a while, and I close my eyes, trying to get at least a few hours of sleep.
“I miss her.” Scarlet’s small voice cuts through the quiet night.
“Me too,” I admit.
I hardly think about Adela, let alone talk about her. It just hurts too badly, and it’s easier to pretend she isn’t dead. Like she’s gone on a vacation and will return home when she’s ready.
“This is the first time we’re together somewhere without her, in public, I mean. Someone is going to ask questions, don’t you think? What are we going to tell people when they ask why she’s not here?”
“I don’t know.” I have no fucking clue. “We have to tell people at some point. I don’t know why Dad is so adamant on keeping it a secret.”
“Maybe because telling people will make it real…”
It’s already real, I want to tell her, but I bite my tongue. I still don’t know if that’s my father’s reason, but I do know Scarlet has a point. People will wonder where Adela is, and I am not sure how to answer that.
I’m not sure if I want to answer it either.
28
ASPEN
For the past week, everyone has been talking about the upcoming founders’ ball. A few years ago, I would’ve shared their excitement, but now, I could throw up just thinking about it. Not that I don’t like the idea of a party—dancing and food. It’s the people I know will attend that have me curled up in a ball of nerves and anxiety.
As far as I know, most parents have flown in to see their kids and celebrate the tenth anniversary of opening the school. Of course, my mother has already emailed me about her regretfully declining the invite, which is not surprising at all. I didn’t expect her to come.
Still, a part of me wishes she would. No matter how much she gets on my nerves. She is still my mom, and I want her to be there for me. I want her to want to see me. I want her to want me safe and happy.
Wishful thinking, I know.
More than ever, I hide out in my room, even skipping classes so I won’t have to go out. I go to the cafeteria super early in the morning before most students make their way to breakfast. Then I go a second time between lunch and dinner. That way, I miss everyone, and so far, that includes the Rossis.
Today is the big day, the founders’ ball is happening tonight, and the dorm halls are buzzing with people getting ready, even though it’s still hours before it starts. I have to be the only one not excited about this event. I don’t plan on going anywhere tonight. I’ve already stocked up on books, so I have plenty to read.
I’ve settled into my bed, snuggled beneath the covers, and halfway through the third chapter of the book Brittney told me I had to read when there’s a knock on the door.
Startled, I drop the book into my lap and nearly jump out of the bed. I stare at the door like it’s my enemy. Who knocks on my door? No one… at least, not usually. The only person who comes to my room has a key and wouldn’t be caught dead knocking.
Something in the back of my mind tells me not to open the door, but curiosity killed the cat, and I’m the stupid cat getting up to open the door. My hand shakes as I grab the handle and twist it, opening the door.
All the air stills in my lungs when I see who is standing on the other side. My blood runs cold as I take in the large frame of the man, his black hair is graying, and his face looks weathered, somehow, ten years older than from the last time I saw him. But even his age doesn’t take away how scary he looks. I know he could kill me in an instant, snap my neck like he was tying his shoe.
“Hello, Aspen. Are you going to invite me in?” Xander Rossi asks like we’re old friends.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Stupid girl,” he murmurs.
Of course, Xander Rossi doesn’t need an invitation and pushes into my room, almost knocking me down to the ground in the process.
“What do you want?” I grit through my teeth.
“I just came to check on the daughter of an old friend,” he explains casually, his eyes darting around the room inspecting the contents. “Are you settling into the university nicely?”
“Yes, this place is lovely,” I reply sarcastically, “and everyone is so welcoming. It’s very nice. Five stars, I would recommend it.”
“I’m glad to hear you love it here. Lucas assured me that your accommodations here were adequate. I can see he was right. This place suits you.”
Instead of giving him a witty remark, I grind my teeth together and dig my nails into my palm. Provoking him is only going to get me hurt.
“I heard you weren’t coming to the ball tonight.”
“I didn’t think anyone would want me to attend,” I say. “I wouldn’t want to show up somewhere I’m not welcome.”
“Of course, you are welcome there. I encourage all the students to come. And as luck would have it, I already have a date for you. He’ll be here at seven to pick you up.”
Dumbfounded, I stare at him, wondering where the hell this is going to go. Nothing Xander does is without a plan, and his plan, whatever it is, isn’t going to be in my favor. Like I said, no matter what, I’m on the losing side, always.
“I can’t,” I object. “I don’t have a dress.” It’s a lame excuse, but I hope it will be enough.
“I figured you wouldn’t, which is why I already ordered you one. It should be here in time. So be ready at seven. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He stops at the door, looking at me over his shoulder. “Do not disappoint me, Aspen. You don’t want to see me disappointed.” He lets the threat hang in the air for a few seconds before adding, “I expect you to be there.”
With that, Xander leaves my room, closing the door behind him without another word. I stand there for another moment with my mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of the whole situation. One thing is clear, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree at all. Quinton definitely learned how to threaten people from his father.
The real question is, why the hell would he want me to go? And who is he sending as my date? Does Q know about this?
Ugh, I hate everything about this.
I know this is a trap. I just don’t know how to get out of it.
While I still plot how not to make an appearance tonight, I look through my closet to see what I could wear. Xander said he’ll send me a dress, but that is definitely not something I’m going to count on. I didn’t even bring high heels. The fanciest shoes I own are black flats with a tiny bow on top. I guess that will have to do. The only dress I could possibly wear is an emerald-green sweater dress. Either way, I will stick out like a sore thumb at this party. Not that I need anything else to add to the giant bull’s-eye on my back.
As I wait for the day to pass, my mind is too busy to get back into a book, no matter how much I wish I could escape reality. I spend the time on YouTube watching tutorials on how to curl up hair without a curling iron.
I end up
using napkins and roll up my damp hair that way. Then I gather all the makeup I have, which is not a lot, and start applying it to my face until I look somewhat presentable.
Checking the time, I realize it’s already six o’clock. I only have one hour left and still have no plan in place to get out of this. Another knock on the door almost has me falling out of my chair. Last time I opened the door, it turned out terrible, but Xander did say he was going to send a dress, so maybe that’s who that is.
Hesitantly, I get up and walk to the door, opening it slowly. One of the maids is standing on the other side, holding a big box out in front of her.
“I’m supposed to drop this off here.” She gives me a nervous smile, shoving the box closer to me. I open the door all the way and hold out my hands. The maid briefly glances at my napkin-rolled-up hair but doesn’t comment. I’m sure I look quite ridiculous with this hairdo.
“Oh. Okay, thank you.” As soon as the box is in my hands, the maid spins around and walks away from me like she can’t get away fast enough.
I close the door and carry the box to my bed, where I open the lid slowly to peek inside. I’m still not fully convinced that this isn’t a joke, and something won’t be jumping out at me any moment. At first glimpse, all I see is a silky red fabric.
I drop the lid onto the floor so I can inspect the entire contents of the box. I pick up the corners of the red fabric and lift the dress up, finding a pair of stilettos on the bottom of the box. It’s a little bit more flashy and revealing than what I would normally wear, but other than that, it’s actually a pretty dress.
I strip out of the sweater dress I’m wearing and slip on the red dress Xander sent. Surprisingly, it fits perfectly. The only problem I have is that the bra is showing since the dress itself is completely backless. I’m not really comfortable going without a bra, but I don’t think there’s going to be a way around it.
Stepping into the shoes that came with the dress, I notice how they match perfectly, and I can’t help but wonder who actually picked this out.
I doubt Xander has this kind of fashion sense.
All dolled up and ready to go, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the clock to turn to seven. With every passing minute, the feeling in my gut that something terribly bad is happening tonight grows. The worst part of it all is that I’m actually hoping for Quinton to walk in. I could never get so lucky.
A part of me waits for the familiar clicking of the lock when he swipes his key card and walks into my dorm room. It never comes. Instead, another knock fills the room, and my stomach sinks even lower.
I open my door for the third time today, even though I want to do anything but that. This time, I find someone on the other side I did not expect—someone I loathe. Someone I wouldn’t touch if he was the last person on the planet.
“Well, hello, Aspen. I see you dressed up for me.” Matteo gives me a mischievous smile. “Are you ready to go, or do you need help with the dress?”
“One, I didn’t dress up for you. Two, I’m only going because I’m forced to. Three, if you even think about touching me with your slimy fingers, I will cut your dick off in your sleep.”
“That’s a bold threat for a rat like you. You hide out in your room all day, too scared of your own shadow, but you expect me to believe that you will come and find me at night to break into my room?”
I hate that he is right almost as much as I hate him.
Shoving past him, I walk into the hallway on shaky legs. I’m used to walking in high heels, but the anger and fear I’m feeling right now leave me on shaky ground. Matteo holds his arm out as if there is a world where I would actually take it.
I glare at him, and he shakes his head. “Suit yourself. I hope you trip and fall on your face.”
“I hope you trip and fall onto a sharp knife.”
“Oh, that mouth of yours, it’s just begging to be stuffed with my cock.”
I walk away from him, hoping that he’s not going to follow closely, but of course, that would be too much to ask. He catches up to me with ease, walking beside me the entire way to the ballroom of the castle.
A tiny part of me had hoped that I could somehow blend in tonight and not be the center of attention. When we enter the lavishly decorated ballroom, I know right away that blending in won’t be possible.
“I guess no one told you that this was a black and white ball.” Matteo chuckles, amused with himself.
“I like being different,” I lie, trying to play off my ever-growing distress.
Every pair of eyes is on me as we enter the large space. All the men wear black tuxedos while most of the women wear white dresses. You would think I would be used to the sneers and glares by now. But the truth is, I’m more uncomfortable now than I have ever been.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Matteo grabs me by the hand and leads us to a table. It’s one of the larger tables that seats about fifteen people. At the very head of the table sits Xander, his wife, Ella, next to him, and Quinton on the other side. I glance at the blond girl sitting beside Quinton, expecting Adela or Scarlet to have that spot, but instead, I find Anja from PE class smiling back at me like she just won the lottery. Another man sits beside Anja, and I consider the fact he might be her father, but then Matteo speaks beside me.
“Hello, Father,” he greets. The man looks up from his phone, and the first thing I notice about him is his pointed nose and the gleam of hate in his eyes.
He brushes a few strands of gray hair from his face. His frame and features are intimidating.
“Please, have a seat.” Xander waves at the empty chairs, dragging my attention back to the dinner. “I’m so glad you could make it. Though that’s a very interesting choice of dress, Aspen.”
“Sorry, I missed the memo that it was a black and white ball.”
“I’m shocked they allowed her here. She should be locked up just like her father.” Matteo’s father speaks like I’m not sitting right here. I stop myself from rolling my eyes and purposely take the chair not next to Ella, leaving a space between us.
As I take a seat, I make sure the dress doesn’t show my boobs as I move around.
The only person wearing something more revealing is Anja, who might as well have come naked. Her see-through white dress isn’t leaving much to the imagination. I look around, wondering where Anja’s parents are since it seems Matteo’s father came.
Maybe they couldn’t make the trip from Russia. That seems like a stupid excuse, but I’m not about to ask her where they are. Maybe hers are as shitty as mine?
Matteo takes the seat beside me and attempts to slide his hand up the apex of my thigh. I slap it away without looking, scanning the table for a knife that I can stab him with.
“I didn’t think you would be here,” Quinton whispers, demanding my full attention.
I haven’t dared to look at him, and when I do, I know exactly why. His penetrating stare has a shiver running down my spine, and tonight there is an edge to him. He is angry, but I don’t know if he’s angry with me or the situation. I’m sure I will find out later.
Looking away from him, I finally notice who else is sitting at the table. On the other end, Roman Petrov sits at the head, his wife, Sophie, on one side, and Ren and his sister, Luna, on the other side. Scarlet is next to Luna, but I don’t see Adela anywhere.
That’s weird. Where would she be? Maybe she decided not to come, but that’s unlikely. Unless she knew Matteo would be here. Maybe she knew and made an excuse not to come. I doubt she ever told her father or Quinton about that night. Or maybe she did, and they just didn’t care.
Appearances are everything when you’re in the mob. I’m so curious about where she is that I almost ask but stop myself at the last second, knowing better.
Once I’m settled, everyone starts to chat about random stuff. Anja is telling Ella about class while Xander stands up, along with Matteo’s father, and greets some arriving guests.
Ren talks to his father about som
e fighting techniques while Luna and Scarlet chat about coming to school here in a few years.
The only person who remains quiet is Quinton, who ping-pongs his murderous glare between Matteo and me. If looks could kill, both of us would be dead by now. Anja leans over to whisper into his ear a few times, her hand running casually over his upper arm.
Unwanted jealousy weasels its way into my gut, and only then does it dawn on me that Quinton could possibly feel the same. Is that why he’s so angry? Is he jealous? As soon as the idea enters my mind, it floats away like a cloud on a stormy day. There’s no way he would be jealous, not of Matteo, not of anyone. He doesn’t care about me in any sense of the word. If anything, he is jealous that someone else is touching his toy.
To him, I am a physical object—nothing more or less.
Lost in thought, I almost don’t notice the gentle touch on my leg. When I look down, I find Matteo’s hand once more, inching to the inside of my thigh. It’s official; he really wants me to kill him. Furious anger ripples through me, and I slap his hand away, ready to land a slap to his face as well. Matteo smiles, literally smiles, like a fucking psychopath. Slowly, he leans into my side, and I inch away until it feels like I’m going to fall off my chair.
His voice is so low only I can hear it. “Mark my words, Aspen, by the end of the night, I will fill all three of your holes, one by one.”
Not if I can help it.
“You can try but mark my words. If your dick comes anywhere near one of my holes tonight, you will not have one in the morning.”
“Good thing I brought a gag and some rope to keep you in place.” He chuckles and straightens in his seat.
More determined than ever, I promise myself that I will find a way out of this. I’m smart and should’ve known better than to depend on Q for my protection. The only person I can depend on is me. The only person who can protect me is myself. After tonight, everyone will see that, even Quinton.
29
