Something Wicked: An Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (The Seymore Brothers Book 2)

by Savannah Rose

  The columns on the front reminded me of a miniature White House, while the white marble gargoyles crouching on the roof made me think of a library back in California. The lawn, though small, was real grass—something which was frowned upon even in my neighborhood as a waste of precious water.

  Julio opened one side of the double front door before we were close enough to knock, and I spotted the tiny camera on the doorbell. Julio’s professional mask was mostly in place, slipping only a little around his worried eyes.

  “Come in, make yourselves comfortable,” he said.

  A tall order, once I was inside. His house apparently doubled as his office, complete with a reception desk and waiting area just inside the door.

  He led us into a room with a lot of comfortably-worn leather-bound books, a long narrow couch, and a wing-backed chair.

  Wriggles of displeasure curled through my belly. My parents had used therapy in place of discipline for several experimental years. Rooms like that still gave me the creeping shame crawlies.

  To my immense relief he opened a door on the far end of the room and led us down three shallow steps and across a small threshold to a third door, which opened into a normal-looking living room.

  There was a big comfy sofa and a big screen TV, a coffee table cluttered with various papers and a dish or two, and a small bookcase full of dog-eared paperbacks.

  He flopped down at one end of the couch and gestured for us to sit, so we did.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Rudy took a deep breath, tightening his shoulders, then released them again. “I have questions for you that might bother you, but the answers are really important.”

  Julio scowled. “If you’re going to ask me about my clients—”

  “Not current clients,” Rudy said quickly. “At least I don’t think they are.”

  Julio shook his head, crossing his arms, and Rudy put his hands up.

  “I’m not asking for the icky personal details,” he said. “Just some insight.”

  Julio gazed at him steadily for a few seconds, then sighed. “Go ahead and ask,” he said. “But don’t get pissy with me if I can’t answer.”

  Rudy nodded. “Fair enough. It’s about Natalie Bird. Well, sort of. I think Julianne is setting me up to take the fall for something, and I need to figure out how to get ahead of her.”

  Julio’s dark eyebrows drew together. “What does that have to do with Mrs. Bird? And what exactly is she setting you up to take the fall for? Is it for something you actually did, because if it is—”

  “No,” Rudy said. He growled in frustration and I put a hand on his arm.

  “It’s okay,” I said. I filled Julio in briefly, emphasizing the possible outcomes of her having the picture of Rudy, naked as the day he was born.

  When I was finished, Julio pursed his lips and frowned at the floor, thinking. Silence stretched as he rolled the hem of his shirt between his fingers, his brain working busily behind his unfocused eyes.

  Rudy slowly grew more tense beside me.

  “Thoughts?” he bit out finally.

  Julio shook himself slightly and focused his frown on Rudy. “First of all, Julianne isn’t her mother.”

  “No shit,” Rudy said through his teeth.

  Julio held up a placating hand. “And because of that, I can give you my professional opinion without breaking any confidentiality laws.”

  Rudy was all set to yell at him. He froze, then sort of awkwardly deflated. “Oh.”

  Julio flashed him a tiny half-smile, then looked down at his hands while he carefully picked out the words to say.

  “Julianne was raised in an environment in which popular opinion was cultivated, corralled, nurtured, and wielded as a weapon. She was at a very impressionable age when her household was affected by a rather, erm—sensationalized tragedy. Being as near to the action as she was, she was sure to have picked up some particular habits.”

  “Such as?” Rudy pressed when he paused.

  “Such as—pre-emptive deflection. Before their junior maid disappeared, the town was already buzzing with rumors about her and her boyfriend. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but racial diversity in Starline would be virtually nonexistent without us—that is, Jason’s foster kids and adopted children. Since Sabrina and her mother worked in such a high-class neighborhood for such connected employers, the fact that she was publicly dating a black man was hot gossip.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that, and Julio smirked in my direction. “Small town politics, kiddo. No social pressure to change, so why bother?”

  “Okay, but what does that have to do with pre-emptive deflection?” Rudy asked.

  Julio drummed his fingers on his thigh, sorting through his thoughts.

  “Julianne was in a position to overhear a lot of that gossip, and witness certain people’s reactions to it. One very strong reaction was to smear Eric’s name, profess concern over the junior maid’s welfare, and martial the bored housewives to keep tabs on her when she was out on a date. This, in turn, allowed some people to weave colorful narratives around the young couple’s behavior, with just enough truth to make the story believable.

  “What this did, then, was create a communal wariness, the expectation that if something bad were to happen to the girl, that Eric would be the only reasonable target. Keep in mind, though, that this was not the first reaction Julianne would have witnessed, but a necessary secondary alternative.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. The way he was talking was giving me a literature-analysis-lecture type headache behind my eyes.

  “The first thing Julianne witnessed would have been an effort to remove both maids from the household to avoid tarnishing the Birds’ name with an unacceptable social connection. This would have been a rather important moment for Julianne’s development; violent parental arguments have a huge effect on a child’s psyche. She may have internalized the idea that a straightforward approach to a social problem would lead to major discomfort, major conflict, and potential trauma.”

  “Woah, woah, hold on,” Rudy said, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me that Natalie tried to fire Sabrina and her mom just because Sabrina was dating Eric?”

  Julio hesitated. “I can’t tell you anything about Natalie’s reasons, intentions, or actions. All I can tell you is what Julianne would have witnessed. First, the shame of having someone even adjacently related to the family getting romantically involved with a Seymore. Due to her age, she may not have picked up on all the various social nuances, which would explain her obsessive hatred of all things Seymore since then.” He ticked that off on one finger.

  “Second, an argument between her primary caretakers. She would have seen that this transgression was, to one of them, worth ruining a pair of lives over. She would have seen the other stand his ground, defending his employees fiercely—so fiercely that some may have accused him of being inappropriately attached to the help, while others would commend him for having a shred of basic human decency in the face of such arbitrary hatred.” He ticked that off, though I felt there was more than one point hidden in there.

  “Third, she would have seen the histrionics and scandalized rumors confirmed when the junior maid went missing and suddenly her family was put directly in the spotlight. Her first interaction with the law acting in its professional capacity would have been to hear all of these things tidied up, rationalized, and packaged in sympathetic little snippets, which the investigators, journalists, and town at large, swallowed whole.” Third finger.

  “Fourth, the reinforcement when the body was found. Now all of the paranoia and hatefulness makes complete sense, and Julianne internalizes the whole story. Her family’s junior maid was a constant presence in her young life until that moment; now she was dead, and all because of that bad, bad Seymore boy. When he is released without charge, it only confirms everything she’s heard—that he’s a bad guy who got away with murder.”

  “Okay—”

  “Hold on,”
Julio said, interrupting Rudy. “Last thing. When he was released, Julianne bore witness to yet another thing: a parent taking justice into their own hands, condemning Eric by popular opinion and killing any chance he had of making a living for himself here in town. That manipulative vengeance, both its essence and its effect, taught Julianne how to deal with anyone she found to be problematic.”

  Like me. Damn it all.

  “Okay,” Rudy said again after a long pause. “So how do we outmaneuver someone who’s been trained like that?”

  Julio shrugged one shoulder. “Turn the scandal around on her. Publicly accuse her of being a peeping Tomasina and taking pictures of you naked. Tell everyone she’s spreading rumors about you because she’s secretly lusting after you. Put her on the defensive. Then she can’t show the pictures without confirming your story.”

  Rudy broke into a grin and clapped his hands on his knees, pushing back against the couch.

  I laughed, bouncing a little where I sat. “Oh god, her pride! She’ll delete every picture she took. Brilliant!”

  Julio nodded slowly, a sheepish look crossing his face. “I’m not sure this is how I should be using these skills.”

  “You’re supposed to help people, aren’t you?” Rudy said, grinning. “So, you’re helping people. Only thing I can’t understand is why you had to say all that when you could have just given me the answer.”

  Julio whacked him with a pillow. “You think I just have this shit ready to go? I’m not a damn gumball machine, Rudy. I had to analyze, and it was either talk you through it or let you sit there for half an hour with your dick in your hand.”

  “In her hand maybe,” Rudy smirked.

  That time I was the one who hit him with a pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  RUDY

  The one thing I didn’t really consider when taking Julio’s suggestion was how it would make me the center of attention.

  Sure, nobody came right up to me to ask me questions or anything, but people would cluster together and whisper, their eyes roaming up and down my body, wondering what I was hiding under my clothes that could make the queen bee herself lose her damn mind.

  I also didn’t consider the fact that everyone was too afraid of Julianne to confront her directly, or even tell her what people (specifically myself, my brothers, and Kennedy) had been saying about her.

  She and her posse walked around blissfully ignorant for most of the day, while all around us the rumors were spreading like wildfire and speculations grew into conspiracy theories.

  It wasn’t until we got to music class that she became aware of anything out of the ordinary.

  Kennedy and I were set up on one side of the room with our guitars, working on the arrangement for the duet we were planning to sing for the talent show. Julianne sat across from us, pointedly ignoring Kennedy’s existence.

  I wouldn’t have been paying attention to her at all if it weren’t for the wide-eyed, frightened looking girl sitting near the teacher. She kept shooting looks from me to Julianne and back again, and I swear her hands were shaking as she readied her oboe.

  She looked like she was waiting for something to happen. Since I’m not a fan of being taken off-guard, I waited along with her.

  She tensed up when Julianne touched her violin case, and shook so hard she nearly dropped her oboe.

  Adrenaline shot down my spine, making my fingers clumsy, and I ruined a chord. Loudly.

  “What’s the matter?” Kennedy asked.

  “Don’t know yet,” I murmured. “Keep playing.”

  Kennedy frowned, but went ahead with the song. I kept half an eye on Julianne and let the nervous girl quiver in my peripheral vision.

  Julianne was whispering with someone, ignoring her violin entirely, and shooting the occasional disgusted look in my direction.

  I slowly became aware of the other silent conversations happening around the room—every time Julianne looked at me, it set off a chain reaction of knowing looks and disbelieving smirks.

  When Julianne opened her case, nervous girl dropped her oboe and drew the eye of every person in class—including Julianne.

  “Wow, clumsy much?” Julianne smirked.

  The girl muttered an embarrassed apology, everything in her body language indicating that she wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.

  Julianne rolled her eyes and shook her head, then turned back to her violin case.

  And froze.

  A frown slowly creased her features as she reached a tentative hand into the case. She withdrew just as slowly, pulling a scrap of paper out of the case. She flicked it open with one hand and skimmed the note.

  Her eyes widened and she paled, then she read it again. She stopped breathing, her eyes popping, her body rigid. Her head snapped up to fix those wild eyes on me. She snarled soundlessly, then jerked out of her chair, careless of the damage done to her violin when it hit the floor.

  “Julianne!” The teacher stared at her in shock.

  Julianne took two powerful steps toward me, then stopped. I could see the wheels turning in her head, panic twining through calculations.

  She narrowed her eyes and the color returned to her face. She whirled to face the instructor.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said.

  Goggling, the instructor handed her a bathroom pass. Julianne snatched it and stalked out of the room, steaming so hotly I could almost see the heat waves radiating off of her.

  The guy in the seat next to the one Julianne had vacated, also a violin player, gingerly picked up Julianne’s instrument.

  He looked at it for a long, mournful minute before putting it back in its case. I wasn’t an expert on violins—but if my guitar’s neck splintered like that, it would be a goner.

  I didn’t think I could like the bitch any less than I already did, but I was wrong. Money doesn’t excuse careless abuse of delicate instruments.

  She clearly didn’t give a flying fuck about her art, which was why all of her perfect technique was perfectly soulless. It did confirm something for me, though—deliberately wrecking or hiding her violin from her would have been no revenge at all.

  “What do you think was in the note?” Kennedy whispered as the musicians slowly began to turn their attention back to their art.

  “Way she was looking at me? I guess someone finally told her what was being said. See how she bolted? I bet she already had plans for those pictures.”

  Kenndy’s mouth quirked, first in amusement, then concern.

  “Macy has graphic design this period,” she told me. “Internet access. Marketing materials.”

  Sweat coated my palms and I swallowed hard.

  Even if we had succeeded in controlling the narrative, if Julianne didn’t get there in time, my junk could be plastered all over the internet already. Not that I’m particularly shy—but the mud was cold, and that can really mess with a man’s self-image. Besides, the scars on my back might have been visible, depending on when they started taking pictures. There were certain things I wasn’t ready for the whole world to know.

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand. “I think we need a couple of bathroom passes.”

  I didn’t bother asking. The teacher was busy conducting a barbershop quartet, her eyes closed, her mouth pursed into a thin line. She’d be lecturing about the fifth note in a minute or two, but for the moment she was lost in the world of music. I envied her. I never told anyone—bad for the image—but most days I wanted nothing more than to lose myself completely in something. Kennedy, music—anything. But there was always that tension, that tightly wound spring around my head and my spine, keeping me at high alert all the time.

  I snatched a couple of hall passes off her desk as Kennedy carefully packed our instruments back in their cases.

  Out in the hall, Kennedy took the lead. We wound through the corridors, crossed from one building to another across the sun bleached courtyard, and slipped into the next building just in time to see Julianne pee
k her head into a classroom. She crept inside, all of her attention on the teacher with none to spare for listening to footsteps coming up behind her.

  She was nearly through the door when we caught up to her. We hadn’t talked about this part, and I found myself sweating again.

  Was she here to stop Macy, or have her change the message?

  If we stopped her before she did it, would I be better off or much, much worse?

  I didn’t have time to tie myself up in too many knots. Kennedy grabbed Julianne’s elbow before she could make it all the way through and yanked her back into the hallway.

  Julianne hissed like a cat, reaching out with her pointy, manicured claws to gouge at Kennedy’s face. I caught her wrists before she could make contact, but only barely.

  “What the fuck do you two want?” Julianne spat.

  “We want to know what you plan to do with those pictures you took of Rudy,” Kennedy said flatly.

  “Oh, and you waited until just now to ask? What did you do, hire somebody to put that note in my case? Oh!” Julianne’s eyes lit up with a maniacal glee and she showed her teeth in a knowing, predatory smile. “There isn’t even a rumor, is there? Nobody actually thinks I have a thing for Rudy. Nobody really thinks I’ve been stalking him like some kind of crazy bitch. You set that up, didn’t you?”

  Kennedy and I exchanged looks. Kennedy shook her head slowly.

  “I don’t know what was in that note,” she said honestly. “But I’ve been hearing about the crush you have on my boyfriend all day.”

  Julianne turned white, then red, then rigid with rage.

  “How dare you,” she growled. The diamonds dangling from her ears trembled, scattering icy cold rainbows over the walls. “You think I--?” She couldn’t even finish the question, choking it off dramatically.

  “How else do you explain it?” Kennedy said, her eyes flashing. “How else do you explain how completely obsessed you’ve been with him and his brothers, how much you tried to tear them down to me and the girls? You were trying to keep him to yourself! I bet you had Macy take those pictures just so you could blow them up to poster size, hang them on your ceiling and fingerfuck yourself while looking at him.”