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Sighing, I nod. “They just left.”
She nods, like the physical action is helping her process.
“I need to get to class,” I say, unable to hold her eyes now that they’re filled with hurt.
“So, are you going to move back home now?”
A wry, humorless laugh falls from my lips. “The new housekeeper informed me that our beloved parents have left strict instructions that no one is allowed onto the grounds without their permission. So no, I won’t be moving home,” I say, spitting the word like it’s poison.
“But what about all your things?” Davis asks, shocking me with how genuinely concerned he looks.
Shrugging, I look away, not wanting to see even more pity on their faces.
“You can’t even get your stuff? Your clothes and shit?” Hawthorn asks.
“I haven’t tried, but as I was basically told I’m not allowed on the premises, I’m going to hazard a guess at no. It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Izabella cries, reaching for me.
Leaning back, I avoid her touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes across her face.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” I growl, taking another step back, before I spin on the spot and walk away, leaving my sister and her boys behind me.
The rest of the day is horrific. I know it’s my own fault, but taking classes without my sister’s help and my parents’ bribery is awful. The teachers all seem to be deliberately calling on me, like it’s my fault my parents stopped paying them to give me As.
By the time I crawl back into my hotel room, dump my school uniform outside my door to be cleaned again, and flop onto the bed, I’m exhausted both mentally and physically. I keep replaying the conversation with Izzy and her boys in my head. They all seemed so appalled that I’d been banned from the house and couldn’t retrieve my stuff, but I wasn’t surprised that our parents would be so petty.
My new credit card was waiting for me at reception this morning, so there’s nothing stopping me from going to buy the things I need, but I just don’t seem to be able to find the energy.
Somewhere deep inside me, I know I’m more resilient than this, that I’m more than capable of looking after myself and coping with my parents’ absence. Hell, Izabella and I did it for the majority of our lives. But right now, all I feel is raw and exposed.
For so long, my only purpose each day was to do as I was told. Everything else wasn’t my responsibility because the money and my parents shielded me from everything except the pursuit of my inheritance. It was my only job, my endgame. All I had to do was play by the rules, and my future was set. And I was okay with that. That was my role, my destiny, and so it was okay to do whatever I had to do to get my inheritance.
Only no one ever prepared me for what to do when everything went to shit. My parents get to run away, but I’m still here, and now I have to try and learn to live with all the things I’ve done.
Izabella thinks that the way I treated her is the worst thing I’ve done, but she couldn’t be any further from the truth. I’ve manipulated, flirted, and lied over and over again, and the only guy who didn’t lap it up is, ironically, the one who fell in love with her.
A sharp rapping at the door makes a prickle of awareness course through me. Even without looking, I know that it’s Hawthorn. Sighing tiredly, I roll off the bed and slowly pad to the door. He shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want him here, but even though a part of me wants to ignore him, I know I won’t. Hawthorn is everything I shouldn’t want and just don’t seem to be able to resist.
15
HAWTHORN
Every time Penelope walks away from me, it pisses me off a little more and eats away at my resolve to keep some distance between us. Last night, I shouldn’t have gone to her hotel. I shouldn’t have held her while she sobbed in my arms, and I definitely shouldn’t have admitted how hard it is for me to stay away from her.
The moment I left, I wanted to go back to her. I wanted to pull her into my lap and feed her dinner. Then I wanted to strip her naked, cover her with whipped cream, and lick her clean. But unless I’m all in, I need to stay the fuck away from her, even though that’s getting harder and harder to do.
Penelope is Izzy’s sister, and even though I don’t think my Princess is ever going to be who her sister wants her to be, they could have a relationship if Princess just stopped being such a prickly bitch. Both of the girls are a product of their fucked-up upbringing, but where Izzy came out swinging, Penelope seems to be crumbling.
Her parents have banned her from getting into the house. They’re clearly punishing her because they know she hasn’t got any of her things, and they’re deliberately stopping her from going home. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that her stuff was gone even if she could get onto her parents’ estate.
They’re supposed to be the adults, the caregivers, but those people have never thought of their daughters as anything but a commodity to be used for whatever purpose suits them best.
A part of me is kind of glad that Penelope’s family has done this to her because it’s forced her to see exactly who they are. She might not think it, but by cutting her off from everything from her old life, they’ve gifted her a fresh start. She’s no longer Penelope Rhodes, heiress, and now she has a chance to be exactly who she wants to be. Who she would have been before that godforsaken will came into her life and destroyed the sweet girl that I’m sure is still hidden beneath her hardened surface.
When I’m alone with her, the need to comfort her and to take care of her is almost blinding. But when I see her at school and she’s cold and harsh, it’s impossible to forget that she’s the same person who ruthlessly forced her sister to hide and denied her existence for years just so she didn’t have to limit her social life to allow enough time to study.
She was in most of my classes today, but apart from when our eyes met by accident, she pointedly avoided me, the same way she actively shied away from Izzy. I hate that she wouldn’t look at me when she knows it’s what I expected of her. I hate that she treats me like I’m simply her sister’s friend and not someone who knows how she sounds right before she orgasms.
