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

by Ivy Fox

  “Hmm, did my music wake you? I thought it wouldn’t be heard upstairs.” I try to deflect, closing the fallboard over the piano keys while retrieving my sheet music.

  Judge Grayson picks up my phone and hands it to me, and I offer him a thin smile, not entirely comfortable with his leering look.

  “The music didn’t wake me, Holland. I’m not much for sleeping. I feel the night offers so many possibilities, so why forsake them when we can make use of them instead?”

  He plants his hand on my bare leg, and the intimate touch feels unwanted and far too personal for my liking.

  “Actually, it’s been a long night for me. I should probably head off to bed,” I tell him, as polite as I can, but unable to hide my apprehension with the quick way I got out of my seat.

  Still, he offers me a little chuckle, which surprises me even more.

  “I’m starting to feel like you don’t want to get to know me at all. Is it because you think I want to take your father’s place?” he asks, getting up on his feet and, once again, closing the tiny space I created between us.

  Judge Malcolm is a large, tall man, and his imposing form being so close to me, makes it all that more intimidating. His words, however, continue to have no trace of maliciousness. But I’m still wary of him, and I can’t point my finger as to why.

  “No, of course not,” I mumble, taking a step back. “Maybe we can have lunch tomorrow, to get better acquainted. I’m sure my mother would love it very much,” I announce, hoping that by mentioning my mother will shield me from his predatory demeanor.

  “I was hoping for a more intimate setting. One-on-one, if you will,” he hushes out while tracing his finger up and down my arm. “There is so much a person can learn from the other behind closed doors. Don’t you agree?”

  My paranoid reservations evaporate with this gesture. He’s so close that I can smell the rich liquor he must have been drinking before entering the music room. As much as I want to blame alcohol for his deviant mannerisms, his eyes are clear enough for me to realize he is unaffected by his drink.

  Again, I take another step back away from this man—who clearly has perverted notions running around his mind—praying that this time, he honors my silent request for keeping a safe distance.

  “It’s very late, Judge Malcolm, and frankly, you are making me feel uncomfortable,” I tell him point-blank, no longer concerned on keeping up with polite pretenses.

  If he tells my mother that he finds me rather rude, so be it. I’d prefer to be abrasive than have Malcolm paw me like he seems intent on doing.

  “That’s not my intent at all,” he susurrates, walking toward me. With every step I take back, he takes another in my direction. “I can make this so enjoyable for you if you just let me.”

  “I don’t understand,” I mumble, anxious when my backside touches a side table.

  “Still playing coy? Is that how your mother told you to behave around me? I like the shy, innocent act to a degree, dear. I’d rather you let yourself be who you truly are though. Liberated.”

  “I don’t understand,” I repeat truthfully. He then grabs my jaw with such force that understanding his meaning is less important than his intentions.

  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. I’d rather you give me what is mine, willingly. Either way, I’ll get what was promised,” he explains nonchalantly as if talking about the weather rather than assaulting me.

  “Promised?” I croak out, still in shock.

  He pulls me against him, my hair in his grasp now, tugging it so hard that I let out a pained scream.

  “Enough games, girl. Do you want to play games? Then fuck my sons if you must. A man like me has no time for such things.” He seethes, lowering his mouth to my breast and biting it like he’s going to rip a piece of meat. But that’s exactly what I am to him—just meat on bones that he wants to devour and defile.

  “Stop! What are you doing?! Stop!”

  But he doesn’t. With his tight grip on my hair, he throws me to the floor, and before I have enough time to get up and run, he’s on me, ripping my clothes off and biting at my repulsed flesh.

  “Malcolm, if you don’t stop, I swear I’ll tell my mother what you’ve done!” I scream out, hoping sense will come to him with the threat.

  But instead, he just laughs it off, his foul breath just inches away from my tear-filled face.

  “Tell her?” He laughs. “Darling girl, she was the one who gave you to me in the first place.” He continues to laugh, my mind completely gone with that remark. “I thought I’d find you willing and able, but to be honest, I prefer it this way. So much better to taste your sweet tears at the same time I ravish your tight cunt.”

  He thrusts his tongue inside me, and I bite it with all my might.

  “Fight, girl. Fight. It will only make this more fun for me. Before this night is through, you won’t even remember how to. Now, let’s see how beautifully I can make you cry.”

  Chapter 17

  Oliver

  “Something is wrong,” Ash says beside me, the fear in his voice too crisp and evident to ignore, as we both take stock of Snow beginning to pale in the middle of the catwalk.

  “I think you’re right,” I counter back, not liking how my girl’s eyes suddenly look unfocused and terrified.

  I watch her turn to stone, frozen in place while the other models just pass her by, throwing ugly glances instead of stopping to assist her. My hackles rise when Snow begins to claw at her dress, shaking her head frantically, trapped somewhere in her dark mind. That’s all I need to see to get my ass moving. Ash is already two steps in front of me, in sync with my panicked thoughts, when a loud-pitched scream rips through our girl, grounding us both to the floor in shock.

  “Shit!” Ash yells as he starts running to the stage. I hate how far we are from it.

  This past month we have been walking on eggshells when it comes to Snow. In our individual way, both of us are cautiously trying to repair the bridges we torched, hoping she finds her way back to us. Even if it means we have to use kid gloves to make it happen.

  We knew that participating in Elle’s fashion show this Friday night was going to be nerve-racking for Snow. We both thought it best to keep our presence on the down-low and not add to her anxiety, so we decided to keep to the sidelines, but still be here to support her, even if from afar. If I knew Snow was going to have a meltdown in front of the whole student body and their parents, I honestly would have forgone our chivalry and gotten front row seats. At least then we would be just a few feet away from her and able to be at her side in a matter of seconds.

  “Get off of me! Get off!” she shouts at the invisible threat haunting her.

  She then ups her manic state by ripping at the delicate fabric of her dress, until the elegant gown is unable to withstand her abuse and just falls apart at her feet, leaving her naked as the day she was born.

  Gasps of shock and loud murmurs instantly ensue from the audience, making them get up on their feet to have a closer inspection of the nude girl who is clearly freaking the fuck out under the PAR lights. The agitated crowd prevents either Ash or me from getting to our girl before she lets out such a scream, my bones chill in fright. Ash is now pushing every last motherfucker out of his way by force, while I keep at his back, my chest feeling like a boulder is about to crush my heart.

  I’m completely stunned when I see my older brother leap up onto the stage and run across the catwalk toward her. I didn’t even know Rome was here, but I let out a relieved exhale that one of us will get to her soon. My heart then leaps up to my throat when I helplessly watch Snow plummet to the floor, just in time for Rome to catch her in his arms before her head hits the ground.

  As both Ash and I pass the final rows, ordering for someone to call 911, my fear for Snow’s well-being morphs into something else entirely—bewilderment and confusion. Feelings provoked by the brother on his knees on center stage, having a meltdown of his own. Con
founded, I can only stare at Rome, cradling my girl in his arms, covering her with his jacket as best he can, depriving the audience around us from continuing to ogle her.

  Rome trying to keep Snow’s modesty intact is not what shocks me, though—it’s the loving way he nestles her against his chest that makes me pause. The look of real trepidation ingrained on his face is too pronounced for anyone here not to take notice. The tender way he wipes the hair away from her face, shaking her softly ever so often to wake up, catches me more off-guard than watching Snow faint in her devastation. Rome’s impenetrable, cold facade is crumbling right before our very eyes, and the chink in his armor is obviously the girl he’s trying so desperately to awake.

  When Ash and I jump onto the crowded stage filled with nosy bystanders, the words falling out of my big brother—the ones he’s hushing in my girl’s ear—don’t surprise me in the least. It only confirms my suspicion—I saw genuine fear in Rome’s eyes. And dread like that can only be summoned when you think you’re about to lose the woman you’re in love with.

  “Little liar, please wake up. You’re scaring me, baby,” he begs softly, caressing her face.

  I fall to my knees next to my weeping sister who, amongst the havoc, was able to get there before us. I hug her to my side as I continue to watch Rome fall apart, mimicking to perfection the exact way I feel inside. Elle’s tears drench my shirt, as she continues to cry into my chest, while Rome vocalizes every word I wish I could say.

  “Don’t do this to me, little liar. I need you. You hear me? I need you. Wake up, baby. I need you to wake up now.” He hiccups between pained breaths.

  My eyes rise to Ash, who is still on his feet watching all this go down, but I’m unable to decipher his own thoughts since two EMTs break through the gawking crowd, offering hope at last.

  “Sir? You need to let her go now, sir. We’ve got it from here,” one of the EMTs orders and Rome reluctantly unlatches his hold on her, giving them the necessary space to aid our girl.

  Every second she’s unresponsive becomes that much more unbearable, and when they place her on a gurney ready to take her to Liberty General without giving us inkling on what the fuck is wrong with Snow, all four of us begin to protest—Rome being the loudest.

  “I’m coming with you!” he commands, standing up, his eyes never once wavering away from Snow’s pale face.

  “Are you family?” the EMT asks, and before Rome has time to respond, a shrill voice behind us is already doing the talking for him.

  “Yes. He’s her stepbrother,” Addison proclaims in disgust, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  By the astounding gawks and suddenly hushed whispers, I’m sure the crowd here just assumed Rome was Snow’s boyfriend. A natural assumption for them to leap to, considering Rome’s panicked alarm and obvious concern for the girl who is being rolled away on a stretcher, which is the same somber conclusion I’ve just realized. But fucking Addison just had to announce to the world that they are related, even if the relation is by marriage only. A marriage of convenience, no doubt, and one that had only taken place a little over five months ago, which barely makes the time to merit the title of stepbrother. But Addison purposely left that little fact out for shock value, and to ensure everyone here knew his feelings for Snow were nothing but a depraved and perverted abomination.

  Unfortunately for Addison, my brother isn’t in his best mindset. If she thought she would get the cool-and-collected version of Rome with her cruel defamation, she was dead wrong. I jump to my feet the minute I see Rome reaching for her neck, already strangling the bitch with his bare hands in his mind. Addison’s eyes go wide in terror, finally acknowledging she’s confronting a Rome who has reached his wit’s end. Luckily for Addison, Reid steps in front of her, shielding his sister from my brother’s vicious intent.

  Even though Reid is still dressed in a monkey suit from one of tonight’s student designers, he doesn’t look poised and elegant like he did when strutting the catwalk. He looks just as determined as Rome.

  “Step back, Grayson. If you touch one hair on my sister’s head, it will be the last thing you do,” he assures protectively.

  But Rome doesn’t acknowledge his warning and continues to advance on her, even if it means he has to bulldoze Reid in the process. I jump in his way, preventing him from damaging his character further by killing his ex in front of so many witnesses.

  “I swear to God, Addison, if you had anything to do with this, I will kill you!” he yells, the vein on his forehead dangerously close to popping. Even though my back is turned to Reid and Addison, I still hear her scoffing, unimpressed. Of course, it’s all for show since I saw how scared she was of him a minute ago. But her little jeer has my brother seeing red, and Addison should have been more careful not to provoke the next words to pass through his lips.

  “It was one thing when you were fucking my father, but fucking with Holland is going to land you in a world of hurt. I swear on my mother’s soul, if I find out you were behind this, I will ruin you!”

  “Rome,” I reprimand when I hear Addison’s mother gasp.

  Claire and Senator Charles Hurst must have pushed themselves through the crowd when they thought their daughter was in danger. The senator doesn’t look pleased with Rome’s revelation of his daughter screwing our father, but it’s the tears falling down Claire’s face that really do a number on me. Reid’s face isn’t any better, turning all shades of green like he’s about to throw up.

  “You’re lying,” Reid croaks, not having the courage to turn around and get the answers from his sister. Instead, he looks at Ash waiting for confirmation that Rome is full of it. Unfortunately for him, my twin has had enough of the pretenses and gives his teammate a tight nod, backing Rome’s statement.

  None of us get to see the aftermath of that truth bomb since Elle begins to yell from the exit of the auditorium. I didn’t even see her leave my side, but when she shouts, warning us that the ambulance is already on its way to the hospital, we leave behind all the shocked and angry faces, rushing out the exit after her.

  When we arrive at Liberty General, there is no news in regards to Snow’s health, and we are ordered to sit patiently in the waiting area. Aggravated, we all do as we’re told, even though none of us take orders too lightly, especially when we’re being kept in the dark about Snow’s condition.

  This whole night is just one blurred mess. As we impatiently wait on the news, we see the first signs of dawn crest the ample windows in the waiting area, telling us we are still as clueless this morning as we were last night.

  We’re all tired, irritable, and frankly, scared out of our minds. Rome hasn’t stopped pacing back and forth while Elle sits with her head on my shoulder, biting her nails to the bone.

  Done with waiting and preferring to fill the worried void with his voice, Ash is the first one to break the silence. “I hate this fucking hospital,” he groans, running his fingers through his dark-brown locks.

  “What are you complaining about? It’s been months since you’ve stepped foot in here.” Elle rebukes, not concealing her anger, revealing the Grayson trait to its fullest. When things take a nose dive or an unexpected turn, we lash out—hard.

  But she’s right, though. After the media began focusing on whatever new shitstorm New York was experiencing, coverage on my father’s health took less and less airtime. It afforded all of us the luxury to take a step back and not have to pretend to be the forlorn children of the Honorable Judge Grayson any longer. It also gave us the chance to carry on with our lives without having to be in this hospital day in and day out. Except for one of us—Rome. He has always kept our cover intact by coming to this place nearly every day to get updates on the bastard’s condition. Something Elle is intent on reminding us all with her next words.

  “But I didn’t hear you complaining when Rome picked up your slack,” she adds in a snarky tone.

  “Seems our big brother likes filling my shoes more than he should,�
�� Ash seethes back, sending our brother a look that would make lesser men weep in fear.

  “You have something to say, Asher?” Rome exclaims, abruptly stopping his patrol to confront my twin.

  “You mean something like, how you broke us up last summer, only to waltz in and take our place? Something like that?” Ash spits out, getting to his feet and in our brother’s face.

  “Not once did I think about taking your place, Ash. But if you’re asking me if I’m with Snow, then the answer is yes.”

  “You fucker! I know that already. I just want to know when you decided to go after our girl?! Huh? When was it? Did you see her back at the Hamptons and thought she was too good for us, is that it? Filled our heads with bullshit so we would let her loose so you could fly in and save the day? Huh, Roman? Is that how you did it?”

  “Asher! Sit your ass down before you say something you’ll regret,” Elle exclaims, not liking how our brothers are going head-to-head.

  Rome straightens his arm to halt Elle from stepping closer to them, and I follow right behind her to prevent the same thing. Both Ash and Rome have a mean fucking temper, and no way am I letting Elle get between them when they are losing their minds.

  “None of this was planned, Ash, but it did fucking happen. And don’t blame me for your mistakes. I laid out the facts for you. I didn’t know Snow back then. You fucking did, asshole. I have only known her now for a fraction of the time you have, but it’s enough to know she would never be the type of person I accused her of. You were with her for two years, Ash. Two years! I know what I have. You were just too stupid to recognize what you had all along. So, don’t blame me for your mistakes. If you want to blame someone, look in the fucking mirror.”

  Ash curls his hands, his teeth growling to get a piece of Rome. I’m surprised he hasn’t jumped on him yet.

  “You don’t deserve her!” Ash bellows, his eyes looking like he is seconds from striking Rome down.