Soulless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 2)

by Ivy Fox

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “I wanted to hear what you’d say. That maybe you wanted the same thing I did.” He shrugs.

  “And what might that be?”

  “Revenge,” he deadpans.

  I cross my arms over my chest, trying hard not to reveal how that one word hit a chord. Is that what I want? To get justice with my own hands? Will vengeance help me sleep better at night? Will it make me feel safe? Protected? As much as I want the answer to be yes, I know it’s not. Seeking vengeance will just darken my soul further. It will consume me. It will make me think about that rapist, night and day. That’s no way to live.

  Do I want justice?

  Yes. Yes, I do.

  Will I give up my soul to get it?

  No. No, I won’t.

  In my mind, Malcolm Grayson will only have the power to rob me of that one night. My life is mine. I won’t let him take that away from me, too.

  “I don’t want to be a part of your games, Rome. Just tell me if I should expect to be handcuffed anytime soon. Tell me what people are saying about last night. Are the police downstairs waiting for me? Or am I supposed to hand myself in?”

  “And why would you do a fucked-up thing like that?” he hollers angrily, getting up onto his feet and eating the space he had given me.

  “Because I tried to kill your father!” I whisper yell in his face, pushing his chest away from me so I can get my space back.

  “And he tried to rape you. I think you’re even. Well, not quite, since the fucker is still alive. You might regret how bravely you fought back last night, but I don’t. The only thing I’m sorry for is that you didn’t finish him once and for all.” He seethes, running his fingers through his pitch-black hair.

  “You don’t mean that,” I hush out on a long stuttered breath. “You don’t want your father dead. No son would.”

  “Yes, Holland, I do. With every bone in my body.” The venom in his eyes and the loathing on his lips are so pronounced that I believe him.

  This time, I’m the one who sits on the bed, trying hard to make sense of all of this, of what Rome is confessing. A few moments pass before I feel the bed dip beside me. Rome takes a large intake of air, his chest rising and falling effortlessly, and it brings back another pained memory of last night.

  “You helped me.” It’s not a question but rather a statement of fact that now lingers between us, like the nightmare that will forever bind us together.

  “You helped yourself. I only tried to pick up the pieces,” he hushes, forlorn.

  “Thank you.” I hear myself say.

  Never in a million years would I think that one day, I’d be indebted to Rome Grayson for anything. But then again, I never thought I’d be in this situation either. Not once did something this cruel ever infiltrate into my mind.

  My worst fears brewed from my illness. I could list all the things that can go wrong in my life health-wise, but never once could I summon the idea my body and mind would betray me in this way. How foolish am I? How sheltered and protected have I been to have forgotten the first rule of survival when you are born a woman in this world? Predators and evil men walk around us disguised as saints, just biding their time until they catch their prey alone and break them without hope of repair. The worst thing is they work their way up to the higher ranks of society, become very respected within the community because of their status, and it’s difficult to fight them back because of their power.

  Growing up, they tell us not to talk to strangers. Tell us not to get inside cars with strange men. Not to walk alone late at night. They warn us of all sorts of dangers girls can encounter outside their homes. But no one ever warns you about the evil that might live right under your very nose. And something tells me that Rome might have known just what kind of monster his father was. Maybe not the full extent of his depravity, but enough for a son to despise his own father for it.

  “I don’t want your thanks, Holland. What I want is for you to do what you do best,” Rome explains, breaking apart my jumbled thoughts.

  “And what’s that?” I ask, suspicious, something I should have been from day one.

  “Ha, little liar, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “You want me to lie?” I huff out, my hackles rising since Rome’s demeanor has shifted back to his nonchalant state, sounding more like the Grayson I remember.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I know you think it’s easy for me, but it’s not. It has never been,” I explain truthfully.

  I know Rome doesn’t believe me, but lying by omission is as close as I’ve ever been comfortable in doing. And something tells me that whatever ruse Rome has up his sleeve will require a better actress than I could ever become.

  “Don’t doubt your capabilities, Snow. You lied to the twins quite successfully. For two whole years, you had them believing you were someone you’re not. Lying should be second nature to you by now,” he counters, adding salt to the open wound that has no hope in healing anytime soon.

  “I never lied to them. And I hate you for making them think I ever could,” I protest with a seething growl, recalling just exactly who I’m talking to. Rome might have been kind to me on the worst night of my life, but that doesn’t change the fact that he tried to ruin me, way before his father ever got his hands on me.

  “See, that right there, is exactly what I need—the fire you have inside. I always knew you weren’t a frail little thing with those doe eyes of yours, no matter how others might think the opposite,” he mocks my pain.

  “I never said I was weak.”

  “I never thought you were. But right now, you’ll need that inferno bubbling inside of you to do what I have in mind,” he cajoles, looking like the cunning puppet master he believes himself to be.

  But I promised myself never to let him close enough to my strings that I’d end up being one of his pawns. Rome might like his sinister games, but he likes control more. I may not know much about him, but that little tidbit of his personality is hard not to notice.

  With a sharp tongue and clever wit, he’s been able to hold on to that control in his life, as well as his siblings. Ollie and Ash turning on me so quickly is proof that Rome’s power in this family is not to be trifled with. Yet what he’s hinting at doesn’t seduce me in the least.

  “You don’t want me to go to the police, do you?” I ask him outright, wanting him to confirm my suspicions.

  “Smart and beautiful. I see why they fell hard for you,” he teases with a light tone, but his eyes tell a whole different story. They’re insistent and penetrating, commanding me to submit to him. But like hell will I let him hold any power over me. One Grayson already tried, and it’s because of that I’m in this crazy mess.

  “Don’t patronize me, Roman. Just tell me what you want and be done with it,” I order assertively.

  “I told you. I want you to lie. Like the good little con artist you are.”

  “No.” I shake my head profusely. “I won’t do that. I’ll take my chances and go to the police myself. I’ll tell them what really happened. There’s no other way.”

  Rome sits straighter on the bed and surprises me when he cups my face forcefully in his hands. His grip on me stops my beating heart, chilling it frozen, but it’s his intimidating stare that keeps me locked in place.

  “Tell them what, exactly? That the almighty Judge Grayson tried to assault you? When not two weeks ago, it was plastered in every newspaper and elite blog how, after years of mourning my mother, he finally found happiness and couldn’t wait a day to be married to the second love of his life. No one will believe you.”

  “You don’t know that. They might,” I stutter, feeling my resolve begin to falter.

  “And what if they did? All they would assume was that you were afraid of someone finding out the truth—that you gave it up to your new daddy without your mother being the wiser, and you cried out rape so people would see you as a v
ictim and not as a homewrecker.”

  “Stop,” I beg him, not wanting to hear another cruel word leave his lips.

  “No, I won’t. Not until you get it into that thick head of yours that my way is the only way out of this. No one knows you, Holland. In this city, the only info anyone has on you is that you’re Craig West’s daughter—a known thief and a liar. They know your mother kept you far away and, some might speculate, for a good reason. Especially if you go and tell people their city hero tried to force himself on you. All they’ll see is a troubled girl who takes after her father. Or worse, they’ll think you tried to seduce him—to spite the woman who never even made your existence known—and when he turned you down, you tried to kill him for it. One way or another, you don’t stand a chance against this city. They will crucify you, and your own mother will be the one wielding the hammer to push down each nail with a fucking smile on her face.”

  “I’m going to be sick.” I shudder, the burning tears in my eyes blinding me with images of what truly awaits me if I go to the police.

  “What you need is to be smart. After this is all over, then you can fall apart. Not one minute sooner, you hear me?” he threatens, finally releasing his unrelenting grip from my chin.

  “I hate you.” I seethe, although the loathing that is making it hard to breathe has more to do with his spot-on logic than it has to do with him personally. However, right now, I can’t see the difference. All I know is that Rome just shattered me with his brand of a reality check, and I hate him for it.

  “I told you, you would.” He sighs defeated, no longer holding that punitive voice he used to shred my idealistic notions apart. “And maybe now, you finally do. It still doesn’t change the fact that what I said is true. This world is not perfect. This city is as far from perfect as you can get. But it’s my home, and for the foreseeable future, it has to be yours, too. You going back to Brookhaven will only cause suspicion. I need you here.”

  “But that’s not all, is it? You need something else, too, don’t you?”

  “All I want… No, all that we need is for you to act like last night never happened. Never talk about it to anyone. Not even Elle.”

  “I don’t want to lie to your sister. She’s the only friend I have here.” I sob.

  “You care for her. That’s good. That will keep you quiet, because if you tell her, it will only go down in one of two ways—either she’ll go to the police herself, which will be your undoing as well as hers when she sees the ugly world for what it is; or she’ll keep your secret, and you’ve just made her an accomplice after the fact. Is that what you want?” he asks, concerned, his own apprehension coming through.

  He doesn’t have to say it, but Elle is his Achilles’ heel. The mere mention of his sister and Rome turns almost human—as if her name holds the only magic to turn his stone heart into mush.

  I shake my head, but this time, not making any effort at holding back my tears. Rome’s right. I can’t, in good conscience, bring Elle into this mess. It’s bad enough that Ash and Ollie are involved. I won’t scar her the same way.

  “What do you want me to do?” I concede, realizing I don’t have a choice but to follow Rome’s plan.

  “Well, little liar, I want you to rest up for today. You’ll need your wits to face what’s in store for you tomorrow.”

  “Why? What happens tomorrow?”

  His sly smirk returns to his face, the one I’ve grown so familiar with in such a short amount of time. By now, I could probably pick it out from a lineup of devious smiles. I could easily identify which one belongs to the eldest Grayson—the very one that causes me the most dread.

  “You officially become one of the privileged of Pembroke High. Consider it your first test.”

  Great.

  Chapter 6

  Holland

  I look at the unanswered text messages on my phone from every person that means something to me, and my guilt rears its ugly head.

  Nana wishing me a good first day of school, along with a gentle reminder that I can always come home if I don’t like it.

  Candy telling me to kick some major privileged butt on my first day, with an elaborate number of emojis to back up the sentiment.

  And Elle wanting to know if I was feeling any better from my fabricated, twenty-four-hour stomach bug, which Rome concocted as the reason for me not going to the hospital to be by her side.

  All thoughtful, loving messages. And here I am, unable to respond to them in kind without feeling like a total hypocrite.

  I get out of bed, not wanting to throw myself another pity party, and remember Rome’s instructions.

  Act normal.

  Like it’s easy.

  This past weekend’s events still feel like a surreal experience. Something no daytime melodrama could even conceive of. Yet it happened, and I have the inner scars to prove it.

  Although I hate him for it, I’ve had to admit that Rome was right—no good can come out of me telling the world my side of what happened Saturday night. I am Craig West’s daughter and compared to Judge Grayson, no one would ever believe a word I say.

  So I might as well keep my mouth shut until Rome figures out what to do next—either clear my name or find a way to condemn his father’s. By the way that Rome put so much thought into what would happen if the police found out the truth, he won’t leave any stone unturned until he gets his way. And right now it’s keeping me out of jail for something every woman would have done if they had been in my shoes.

  Still, the public might not see it that way, and even though I don’t like the idea of putting my life in Rome’s hands—someone who has already caused me so much hardship—I don’t see any way around it.

  I jump in the shower and hurry up to get this day over with. The sooner I pass through Pembroke High’s doors, the sooner I’ll be back in Grayson Manor. Both places hold their own torment, but at the moment, being in this house locked away in my room is the only safe haven this city provides me. That’s how I see New York now—a prison. Invisible bars hold me hostage within its confines, taunting me that it can keep me locked up here for eternity.

  How things change from one moment to the next. When summer started, I let myself fantasize about living in a Soho loft with the twins, going to Juilliard, and becoming Broadway’s new sensation one day; taking New York by storm. It was a life that dreams are made of. Fast forward two months and that dream has turned into a real living nightmare. This city holds nothing for me except pain and heartache.

  And for my next penance, I’ll have to attend one of the most prominent and elitist high schools in the country. Rubbing elbows with the next generation of one-percenters and pretending I fit in.

  Act normal, Rome said.

  But how does he expect me to do that when my new normal is flipped on its head?

  I sigh sullenly as I put on my green-checkered plaid skirt and white shirt with the added forest green tie that forms Pembroke High’s uniform. I don’t dare check how I look since I’ve labeled mirrors as being one of the objects I no longer have any use for. Rome wants me to lie, and I’m sure my appearance is doing just that—portraying the fabricated image of an unblemished teenage girl. A perfect deception if I ever saw one.

  I walk downstairs into the dining area and see it’s completely vacant, aside from one place setting aimed for yours truly. My stomach begins to knot in concern since I haven’t put eyes on Ollie or Ash since Saturday night. The only one that knocked on my door was Elle, to check up on me before she took a quick nap and then headed back to the hospital.

  Until the doctors tell the Grayson family that their father is stable enough to operate, they will continue to stay at his bedside. My mother, apparently, is also there. Not that she contacted me or anything. Not one call or text to tell me what’s going on. It’s not like she’s ever made it a habit to keep in touch with me, but considering she knows I moved here just because of her, she could at least fake concern. I guess the onl
y person she was willing to pretend that for is now lying on a hospital bed in a coma.

  Because of me.

  “Good Morning, Miss West. Are you feeling up to some scrambled eggs and bacon, or do you prefer some tea and plain toast again this morning?” Lawrence, the butler, asks, alerting me to his presence.

  “Tea is fine.” I smile politely, still not used to being catered to.

  Sure, back in the Hamptons, my mother insisted on staff catering to our every need, but Nana was never a fan of having people do things for her. Aside from Candy’s mom, who took care of the housekeeping, cooking usually fell on my shoulders or Nana’s. Here though, I haven’t even been able to find the kitchen in this massive place, much less make my own meals.

  “Very well, Miss. The town car will be ready to take you to school whenever you’re ready.”

  “Actually, I’ll take the subway, if that’s okay?”

  Lawrence’s eyebrows instantly pull together to form one large bushy V in the middle of his forehead, obviously not pleased with my decision to take public transportation, but he doesn’t deny my wishes.

  “Um, is there any news from the hospital?” I ask, trying to divert his displeasure away from me.

  “No, Miss. Everything is still the same, but I’m sure Mrs. Grayson will let you know should things change. Or visit Liberty General yourself. I’m positive Miss Eleanor would enjoy the distraction,” he replies critically, revealing his indignation of the fact I haven’t made an effort to visit that monster.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Yeah, that’s not happening, but I won’t admit that to the butler who already thinks I’m scum. Since the day I first stepped foot in this house, Lawrence has never hidden his animosity toward me. His bleak regard to my character has only increased with each passing day. I’m not sure if it’s because of my last name that he’s deemed me an unwanted house guest, or because I wasn’t born a Grayson. Either way, Lawrence is the least of my concerns.

  After he leaves the room, only to return with my breakfast, the scowl that appears on his face when I ask him my next question doesn’t unsettle me at all.