Page 5 of Revenge

After Sergei had finished his piece, we stayed for more dancing and to meet people in the classical music circuit. I fixed a smile on my face but couldn’t enjoy the rest of the ball. The hostility in Edward’s eyes confirmed everything I needed to know about the boys’ intentions. It had all been a pretense, and my presence at the Royal Academy ball had been a blight on their evening. They had probably wanted to take me aside to threaten me not to reveal their criminal secret.

We stepped into the limo, and I checked my smartphone, expecting a barrage of angry texts and voicemails, but not one of them had gotten in contact. Not even a message from Charlotte and the doppelgängers to demand to know what I had done to their dates. It was as if they didn’t deem me worthy enough for their attention.

* * *

The next morning, I arrived at the newspaper office to find Jackie rushing at me, brandishing a newspaper. My picture was plastered all over the society pages. I smiled and wondered if Mom had seen the picture.

“Come on, dish.” Jackie dragged me straight into her office. “What did you find out about Sergei? I want all the gossip.”

I gave her the blandest facts about his time at the Institut, which made her eyes glaze.

She huffed. “Will you be going out again?”

I shrugged. That incident with the triumvirate had been a disaster. I doubted whether a man like Sergei Bachmann would want to associate himself with a girl who had needed her own set of bodyguards.

To my surprise, he invited me to another evening function the next day and the day after that. Since I’d already studied everything I could about our biggest targets: the Duke of Mercia, the Bournevilles, and the former Mrs. Simpson-West, I accepted his invitations and entered London’s society circuit. I found it glamorous at first, but the conversations and the people we met were superficial and dull. I totally understood why Sergei went out on the circuit. He was trying to drum up publicity and additional commissions, but it was hard to believe that Mom had swapped a family for such an empty life.

One morning, Jackie called me into her office. A tall man in a sweatshirt and jeans perched on her desk while she sat behind it on her ergonomic chair.

She leaned forward and steepled her fingers. “You need to put cameras in the school. Tom will show you what to do.”

My stomach dropped, and I clapped my hand over my chest. “W-wait. They’re letting me back in?”

“Rudolph is furious.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “Your headmaster demanded a five-figure sum for your return.”

I bit my lip. Mercia Academy had extorted so much from my stepfather. He would be determined more than ever to ruin them all.

Tom stood and opened his large palm, revealing small, white cubes. “These are wireless cameras that will record continuously and send footage to our servers. Since you’ve already supplied us with the passwords for the academy’s internet service, they’re all ready to go.”

Jackie let out a hacking cough. “I want a few in strategic places like the common room, headmaster’s office, the boys’ bedrooms, and the home occupied by the Duke of Mercia.”

Blood drained from my face and into my churning stomach. I’d agreed to do a little spying and reporting back of what I’d seen, but I’d imagined recording everything on my smartphone, just like I had done with Charlotte’s scheme to ensnare Henry.

I stepped back toward the door. “How am I going to get into places like that without being detected?”

“Find a way,” said Jackie, her voice sharp. “The headmaster has finally named a figure to take you back, and Rudolph is negotiating him down. He’ll be livid if you back out now.”

I eyed the small cameras in the man’s hands. “I’m not backing…” My throat flexed. Rudolph had already threatened me with military school if I failed to follow through with the plan, and nightmares of being imprisoned in bare, filthy rooms made me cry out for vengeance in the middle of the night. “It might take some time.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Rudolph says he’ll return you to New York and pay for a school and an Ivy League university of your choosing if you succeed. How’s that for an incentive?”

“R-really?” My eyes bulged. “I’ll find a way!”

Knowing that I’d soon return to Mercia made every society function more exciting. My pictures were probably all over the Mercia-Net, just as Mom’s had been whenever she appeared in the papers. I’d make my smile extra bright and gaze adoringly into Sergei’s eyes, acting the devoted girlfriend. He’d probably be happy to play along for the publicity.

Once the Saturday Correspondent published my name, all the other papers followed suit. It was no longer ‘Sergei Bachmann and companion’ on the captions. One magazine even dug out some old photos of me at Mom’s weddings and analyzed my fashions.

Dad sent me emails asking about Sergei, but I told him we were just friends. He insisted that a man didn’t keep dating a pretty girl because he wanted to be her pal. I stared at Dad’s message on my smartphone. I liked Sergei, but hadn’t gotten over the triumvirate. Was I leading him on?

One evening, Sergei and I were riding in the limo with Andreo, his blond bodyguard. They were having a hushed conversation in rapid French. Every so often, Andreo would glance at me, giving the impression that I was the topic of their conversation.

I leaned forward, throat drying. “What’s going on?”

“I apologize for fooling you,” said Sergei.

My stomach dropped, and my gaze zoomed onto the passenger seat door. Was he not Sergei Bachmann? He certainly played like the son of a famous composer. After my experience with the triumvirate, I was ready to believe the worst.

The limo sped through London, but the second it stopped at the lights, I could jump out and run for safety. “What do you mean?”