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“Mom,” I say acerbically, stopping her rant before she even has a chance to begin. “I can call you Mom, can’t I? Let me explain how this is going to go down. You’re going to take your poisonous hands off my fiancée, then you’re going to turn around and take your old, Botox-filled ass and get back into your car. After that, I suggest that you forget that you have a second daughter. That shouldn’t be too difficult for you, considering you’ve been doing it for the last three years. And when all of that is done, you’re going to delete her cell phone number from your phone and never contact her again.”
“Listen here, you little asshole,” she hisses, but I speak over her, ignoring her completely.
“No, you listen to me. We know what you and her father did to her. We have witnesses and photographic evidence that I will happily release to the press if you try to contact her again. I will drag your name through the mud until all anyone ever thinks about when they hear the name Rhodes is the bruises you put on your child’s face. You are a fucking disgrace,” I spit, teeth bared, my grip on Izzy the only thing that’s stopping me from punching the bitch in the face.
“How dare you!” she shrieks.
“I’m Gulliver Winslow. I can do whatever the hell I please.”
“Goodbye, Mother,” Izzy says, her voice full of quiet strength.
Trudy’s glare is glacial, her lips twisted into an ugly snarl as she spins around, stomps over to Penelope, and ushers her into the car.
37
IZABELLA
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My chest feels tight as I watch my mother walk away from me, climb into her car, and leave. It’s what I wanted, but now that it’s happening, there’s this odd sense of horror at knowing she’s leaving and that I’m not going with her.
“Let’s go, Ghost,” Gulliver coaxes softly, guiding me from the top of the stairs down to where the limo is waiting for us. As soon as he sees us, the driver hops out and opens the door, and I climb in, holding down the back of my skirt as I shuffle along the bench seat to the far corner. Pulling my backpack into my chest, I hug it tightly as a strange numbness settles over me.
My mom just left. She tried to get me to leave with her and when I refused, she walked away and left. I don’t have to go back to my parent’s house. I think a part of me thought they’d figure out a way to make me fall back in line, and maybe they still will. But for right this minute, they’ve backed down, and I’ve won.
“Are you okay?” Gulliver asks, pressing himself into my side and draping a comforting arm around my shoulders.
“I don’t really know,” I tell him honestly.
“Round one goes to Izzy.” Thorn grins. “To the victor goes the spoils. Let’s celebrate tonight.”
Slightly shell-shocked, I nod. “Where are we tonight?”
All eyes turn to Kip, and I follow suit, smiling a little when he huffs and pulls his cell from his pants.
“Tonight, we’re at a charity auction,” he says, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Then tomorrow, we have an informal dinner with our families. Wednesday and Thursday are free, then we have parties Friday and Saturday night.”
“I thought we had dinner with your dad tonight?” I ask, turning to look at Gulliver.
“We do; the auction is a cocktail event, not a dinner,” he says. “But we can cancel if you’re not up for it.”
“No, I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just glad I’m ahead with all my classes, because there’s not going to be any time to do homework this week.” I laugh dryly, forcing a smile onto my lips.
His eyes narrow a little, but he doesn’t call me out on my lie. “Come on,” he says, the moment we slow to a stop outside his house. Pulling me through the front door, not sparing Beth a glance, he drags me up to his bedroom and closes the door behind us.
“Gulliver, what are you doing?” I ask as he pulls my blazer from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Loosening my tie, he slides it from beneath my collar, not pausing as it flutters from his fingers.
He removes my pinafore and blouse, dropping each item of clothing to the floor until I’m wearing nothing but my bra, panties, black-heeled pumps, and my thigh-high socks.
A part of me thinks I should tell him no or try to get him to understand why we should be keeping our relationship platonic, but I want him to touch me. My mom’s appearance at school has rocked me more than I’m willing to admit to, and his touch grounds me.
I don’t utter a single word of complaint as he drops to his knees and peels my panties down my legs. Resting my hand on his shoulder, I lift first one foot, then the other, free of the black lace, before he pushes them into his back pocket and tips his head back to look at me.
Dark eyes stare back at me, not releasing my gaze as he presses a wet kiss against my inner thigh. His fingers curl around my hips as he licks a path along my skin, the cool air making goose bumps rise to follow the path of his tongue.
His eyes stay on mine, unblinking as his mouth touches my pussy, licking and sucking at my sex and clit. My legs tremble and my breathing gets short, and I fight the urge to hold his head between my legs, wanting more.
“Spread your legs,” he growls, and I comply without thought, parting my legs, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other buried in his hair.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp as a thick finger slides into me and his tongue laps across my clit.
