Page 6 of Revenge

“I cannot offer you anything but friendship.” He nodded toward the bodyguard. “Andreo is my lover, but we cannot be open about our relationship. In Russia, that would mean the end of my career.”

The muscles around my stomach relaxed. Maybe he’d seen something in my eyes, a lack of interest, preoccupation, or sadness that had prompted him to ask me out. “You want a beard?”

His brows drew together, and an incredulous smile curled his lips. “Beard?”

I sat back and explained that the term referred to a woman who agreed to date a gay man so he would appear straight to the rest of the world. They both chuckled and said that was exactly what they were looking for.

Sergei gave me a broad smile. “Emilia Hobson, will you consent to be my beard?”

I raised a shoulder. “As long as you don’t expect me to be faithful.”

* * *

Rudolph finally paid Mr. Chaloner’s demand, and I returned to Mercia Academy, armed with mini cameras I’d stuffed into the bottom of a pack of night-time sanitary pads in case someone entered my room and checked my things. The headmaster didn’t even deem me worthy of a meeting. I expect he might have been sheepish at having accepted three sets of bribes: one to place me at the top of the waitlist, another to delete my records after he’d already expelled me, and the last to take me back.

Rudolph authorized the paper to pay for a limo to take me to the school in style. I directed the driver through the campus, around the imposing main building with frost covering its four towers, atrium, and huge windows. So much had changed since I had left. Even the magnolia trees that had formed the walkway through to the back of the campus had lost their leaves and now jutted out like naked umbrella spokes.

The limo pulled me into Elder House around first break, and I stepped through the mahogany doors into the warm reception hall, breathing in the warm and familiar scent of wood smoke. Although the crack and pop and sizzle of the fire felt welcoming, a tight band of panic wound around my ribcage. The last time I’d been here, Mr. Carbuncle had dragged me by the arm through a crowd of baying students. It had been harrowing and humiliating, and every part of my body had been hurt from their attacks.

Closing my eyes, I forced deep breaths in and out of my lungs, just as I had learned from a YouTube video on post-traumatic stress disorder. Things would be different, now. I would damage the triumvirate’s reputations with such precision, they would have no time for their vicious plots.

“Emilia?” asked a small voice. I turned around. Rita hovered at the doorway, wringing her hands. Her shoulders curled into her petite frame, and her long braid hung down to her waist, making her appear even smaller.

A little of the tightness unwound itself to allow for a nervous chuckle. “I’m back.”

“Why?” Her eyes widened to emphasize her question. “They haven’t stopped talking about you since you left. Pictures of you are all over the society pages. Underwood and her group are hopping mad.”

“Things will be different, now,” I said. “You’ll see.”

She shook her head. “I would leave this place in the blink of an eye if it wasn’t my best chance of a future. But you have a choice to go somewhere else.”

My stomach twisted. All those fantasies of finding scandalous stories to humiliate the boys evaporated, leaving behind memories of struggling through my bedroom, naked with my eyes burning from something they’d put in my shampoo. The next time they pulled that prank, would they shove me out into the hallway to parade myself in front of the masses and their cameras? I pushed away that thought. This time, I wouldn’t antagonize the triumvirate, and I still held their secret. Things had to go differently.

I forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I heard about what happened to you when you left.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “If you’re here for revenge, you should turn back. Nothing good ever came from defying those three.”

The bell went, and Rita dashed to her mailbox, picked up a letter, and scurried back to classes. I went to Mr. Jenkins’ office to pick up my keys. The man lowered his neck into his hunched shoulders and hid behind one of the many stacks of papers on his desk. He’d probably heard all about the violent send-off courtesy of the inhabitants of Elder House and their guests and couldn’t look me in the face. After I picked up the keys, I returned to my room, lowered myself onto the bed, and sighed. In less than two hours, it would be time for me to make my grand entrance.

I stood in the bathroom mirror, checking my appearance. My pale auburn hair waved around my face, and the brown liner I’d placed on my lash line to frame my eyes was still intact. I reached into the inside pocket of my blazer, pulled out a red lipliner and placed it straight back. The objective of my look was desirable, not desperate. Instead, I applied a layer of rosebud liner on my lip line. I could have placed it outside like Charlotte did to make her thin lips look fuller, but anyone with a sharp pair of eyes would be able to see the fakery. I couldn’t give the girls any ammunition against me.

The burner phone in my inside pocket vibrated. It was a text from Jackie, asking if I was in place. I texted back to say I would soon meet my classmates at lunch. Her next text was a demand for a story, and I slipped the phone back into my blazer. It had taken them weeks to get me back into the academy. Surely, she didn’t want immediate results?

The lunch bell rang. I stayed in my room, calculating the amount of time it would take for a person to pack their things, walk across the campus, and settle into the dining room. After brushing down my uniform to remove any traces of lint and checking my teeth for signs of breakfast, I left the room and took the long walk down the stairs, across the hallway, and to the dining room.

My feet froze at the doorway. I had forgotten the majestic, triple-height windows, the mahogany-paneled walls, and the paintings of the king and the armored knight. Blake, Edward, and Henry sat in their usual seats at the head table like kings. Wendy and Patricia sat at Blake’s end and Charlotte perched on the right next to Henry. A breath caught in my throat, combining shock and awe and outrage.

My stomach hardened. I could do this. Face the people who had treated me like the kind of disgrace to be tarred and feathered. I stepped inside, keeping my chin high.

A hush fell across the dining room, and every face turned to me. Apart from the faces I wanted. Edward glanced up from his meal to see what had caused everyone to fall silent. Our eyes locked for a millisecond, then he continued eating, not showing an ounce of anger or curiosity.

My throat dried. I could only describe his expression as indifference.

Henry stared straight through me as though he’d found the coat of arms over the door more fascinating than the girl he’d spent nine days in a dingy room. Part of me wanted to storm over and demand to know what he’d done with the five-hundred thousand dollars he’d scammed out of his parents, but I held back. If the boys had framed me for calling the police with a description of the kidnappers, what would they do if I announced their secret in front of the entire dining room? The memory of Edward upturning the table made me wince.

Not even Blake spared me a glance. He was pretending to be fascinated by Wendy’s knuckles and placed kisses on each of them, making her giggle.

My shoulders drooped, and I trudged to my usual table. Rita wasn’t there. Had she returned to eating sandwiches in her room? I hoped she’d deepened her friendship with the other scholarship students. The sweet girl deserved a break.