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“You coming to ours?” Gulliver asks, his fingers entwined with Izzy’s.
“Not today, I’ve got a video chat with the folks,” I lie. I do plan to speak to my family later, but that’s not the reason why I’m not rushing to go hang with them.
Gulliver and Izzy finally admitted their feelings for each other just before their engagement party, and I’m happy for them, but there’s only so much of their blissfully-in-love company I can take. I genuinely love them both, but I’m at the limit of how much PDA I can watch, especially when seeing Izzy reminds me that Penelope is ghosting me right now.
Izzy’s eyes soften a little as she looks at me. “Where are your parents, Thorn?”
“Dubai, I think, I can’t really remember. I’m surprised they were here for as long as they were this time. They just can’t stand staying in one place, and Nate is almost as bad.”
“You don’t want to see Dubai?” she asks a little wistfully.
“I’ve seen it plenty of times, we have a house there.”
“Oh,” she says with a giggle. “So, are you all alone at your place, or do your parents keep staff there even when they’re not there?”
“We do have staff, but not live-in ones. Our housekeeper comes in a couple of times a week, and then I have a chef who can drop off meals for me when I don’t feel like cooking. But I’m staying on the boat right now, the house is too empty without anyone else there,” I tell her.
“Why don’t you just come and stay at Gulliver’s? It’s not like you don’t already have your own room there,” Izzy asks, looking to Gulliver, who just shrugs.
“Bro, you know you’re always welcome, you have your key. I’ve already told you just to move in till your parents get back,” Gulliver says.
“I’m fine. Staying on The Escape isn’t exactly a punishment, and Izzy, honey, you know I adore you, you’re like my sister. But you’re loud and I can’t listen to you scream Gulliver’s name anymore. I had enough of that the few weeks I stayed there with you both,” I say, bursting into laughter when her face twists into a horrified expression.
“Hawthorn!” she screams, slapping my arm before she turns and buries her bright red face in Gulliver’s chest.
“Little Ghost, don’t be embarrassed, I love it when you scream my name,” Gulliver purrs, sliding his arm around her back and palming her ass as he tips her chin back and presses his lips to hers.
“And that’s my cue to leave. Don’t make babies, guys, see you tomorrow.” Turning, I stride across the lot to my car.
The marina is bustling with life by the time I park my car and cross the short distance to The Escape, nodding and waving at all the people who greet me. When my parents are away, I usually split my time between here and the house, then spend most of my weekends at Gulliver’s. It’s not that I mind being alone, I don’t, it’s more that rattling around my parents’ huge home feels lonelier than being alone on The Escape.
But for reasons that I’m not quite ready to admit out loud yet, I’ve stayed on my boat every night since mine and Princess’s morning here. Our combined scent is long gone, but I still can’t bring myself to allow my cleaning crew in because I don’t want to completely erase every trace of her being here.
Unlocking the door, I step inside and inhale deeply, but all I can smell is the usual scent of wood, mixed with the briny tang of the salty water surrounding us. Dropping my backpack into the coat closet, I kick off my shoes and head for my bedroom. Stripping off, I drop my uniform into the hamper, then take a shower, hoping that the hot water will wash away some of my frustration.
I do feel a little more relaxed by the time I pull on a pair of shorts, but the moment my gaze lands on my bed, I feel all of my muscles go taut again. Penelope dragged the sheets that were stained with her virgin blood off the bed and tossed them in the trash. I wasn’t planning on keeping them as a fucked-up souvenir, but seeing my bed made with sheets that she hasn’t been naked in makes me feel irrationally angry.
My Princess and I aren’t a couple. Penelope Rhodes is a bitch. She treated her identical twin sister like shit for years, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that she would ignore me and act like I didn’t exist. What is a surprise is how much it’s bothering me.
“Thank you for the help.”
I can still hear her shouting that to me before she left.
“Thank you for the help.”
The more I think about her walking away without a second glance, the angrier I get. She asked me to help her. She asked me to fuck her and take her virginity, and then she thanked me for the fucking help and left, like I’d offered to lend her a pen, not given her multiple orgasms, and fucked her pussy using her virgin blood as lube.
When I think about Penelope Rhodes, heiress and villain, all I can envision is the way she hurt Izzy, how manipulative she is, how evil she must be to have treated her own flesh and blood that way. But when I think about my Princess, the nervous, scared girl I spent the morning with the other day, I can barely reconcile them as being the same person. Princess is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, she’s passionate and complex and so fucking broken. But the problem is that Penelope and Princess are the same person, and I don’t know how to accept that.
Slumping down onto the couch, I reach for the TV remote. I have a pile of homework I should be doing, but I can’t seem to find the motivation to even think about it. Instead, I find myself pulling out my cell and typing out another text to Penelope.
Me
I thought I made myself clear, when I ask you a question, I expect you to reply.
Staring at my cell, I try to will the dots to appear and for her to reply, but the screen stays the same and the ticks stay blank. Suddenly, the urge to hunt her ass down becomes so potent I almost rise from my seat before I remember that I don’t even know her well enough to know where to start to look for her.
The rational side of my brain knows that my anger is completely irrational, but I don’t care. She’s mine until I say she’s not, which means the rules I set for her are still in play, and she needs to know that.
