Page 6 of Deposed

Pleasure coiled around my core like a snake, and the world disappeared. There was no more Edward or Henry or Blake. No more double-dealing and treachery. It was just me and my fingers and my quivering core. My fingers continued moving over my clit, and the images in my head jumbled into a mass of muscular bodies quaking with pleasure, just like me.

Then as I pictured my own lips closing over the head of Edward’s beautiful, pink penis, my pleasure spiked, and a climax seized my body in a torrent sensations. Every spasm of my core forced out wave upon wave of pleasure, making me moan and shudder until all thoughts of men and the triumvirate retreated to the back of my mind.

Chapter 3

The next morning, a knowing smile curved Sergei’s lips as he and Andreo sat opposite me at breakfast. One of the bodyguards had brought apricot pastries, and I could barely eat, knowing that Sergei or Andreo had spotted me watching them.

“Ummm…” I bit down on my lip. “Whatever happened with the investigation on your father?”

Sergei’s smile faded, and he shook his head. “Alexander deals with these matters.”

My gaze flicked to the smallest of the bodyguards, a dark-haired man in his early thirties with hair closely cropped to his scalp. “Sorry for bringing up the subject.”

Andreo topped up my coffee from a silver pot, lips quirking into a smile. “Sergei has a concert tonight. Will you accompany us as his beard?”

“Sure,” I said with a relieved breath. This would be the last time I’d bring up the subject of his father’s poisoning.

I spent the next few weeks attending events on Sergei’s arm and appearing in the society pages as his devoted fiancée. Mom didn’t text for details, but Dad kept pestering me with questions until I explained that Sergei was just a friend who wanted to drum up a bit of publicity. The pictures, unfortunately, attached the attention of Edward.

Will you return to Mercia Academy next term?

I stared at the phone and gulped. If he had demanded a meeting in London, I would have agreed, but returning to his territory and to all the people affected by the Correspondent articles would be suicide. I tapped the icon for my banking app. My allowance would arrive in a few days, and it would give me enough for a flight back to New York.

A few days before term started, Sergei took me out in the limo to the Claridge’s Hotel for breakfast. It was a late Georgian building constructed of red bricks that had probably been built around the same time as the Bourneville’s department store. Its grand entrance of white pillars and floor-to-ceiling, art deco windows made me draw in the same awed breath as I had the day the boys had taken me shopping for a ballgown.

As I stepped out of the limo to the crowds of paparazzi, I forced a smile and tried not to think of Henry. I took comfort in Sergei’s large hand on the small of my back and walked through the entrance and into the black-and-white tiled foyer.

The dining room was a huge, magnolia-colored space of smartly-dressed tables, decorated with white roses that matched both the table cloths and the pillars. Hanging from the ceiling was an ornate chandelier of flower-bud shapes and glass spirals that looked more like a sculpture than a source of light. Sergei had booked a table by an arched window, behind which photographers gathered to take pictures of us.

Sergei reached across the table and took my hand in his. “A promoter has offered me a three-month tour of Europe. We leave in two days. Will you come with us?”

I chewed my lip and gazed into his earnest, aquamarine eyes. The thought of visiting places like Paris, Vienna, and Rome made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t put my life on hold for a fake relationship. “I’m sorry, Sergei. I have my studies.”

“I will have to hand back the keys to the owner of the apartment,” he said. “Will you return to the United States or stay in London?”

The waiter arrived with our orders, and Sergei let go of my hand. My gaze dropped to my plate of eggs Benedict. My plan had been to stay in his apartment until Mom sent my allowance, but it hadn’t materialized, and everyone I messaged had said they couldn’t reach her regular phone. Rudolph must have somehow convinced her not to send me any money. I couldn’t ask Sergei to buy my ticket. He’d done enough for me, and even if I reached the States, there might not even be a room for me at Rudolph’s mansion.

“I’m…” I cleared my throat. “I’m returning to Mercia Academy.”

“Are you sure?” He placed a hand on my wrist.

I nodded. “Term starts tomorrow. I’d better go.”

Sergei nodded. “Is money your problem? I can—”

“No.” A nervous laugh warbled in the back of my throat. Sergei believed the triumvirate thought I was disposable. Admitting that my mother and stepfather also acted like I wasn’t worth the expense of pocket money was too much to bear. “I have to face the boys one day. It may as well be now.”

He stared at me for a long time, his eyes boring into my soul. Eventually, he sighed. “This would be a good time to stage our break-up.”

“Um…” I drew my brows together, trying to work out what he meant. Then my attention dropped to the fake diamond on my finger. I slipped it off to a flurry of camera flashes, and handed it to Sergei, who hung his head. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little too much?”

“I want to look devastated,” he muttered. “Like it will take years to mend my broken heart.”

I bit down hard on my lip. If the cameras caught me smiling at his sad display, the press would write me up like some kind of villain.

Later that evening, I sent Edward a text. I’ll be there on Monday.

His reply was instant. Take the 9:45 from Victoria. I’ll reserve you a seat.