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Sade, the guy I’d been crushing on like rock star, and who I thought didn’t even know I existed. Now I have his attention, but do I even want it? My head spins with questions until they weigh so heavily that I’m having trouble breathing. There’s no way I can deal with this alone.
I fish my phone out of my Witch Bitch clutch with shaking fingers and text Mel. But a few moments after I hit send, she calls me. I’m tempted to reject the call, my throat dry and my heart raw, but there’s no dodging Melody Sorbaine. The heiress of a tobacco empire, she’s been raised as a princess, and she’s used to people catering to her whims. And sure as hell to them picking up the phone the moment she calls. I hit the green button, aware that she won’t stop calling until she gets what she wants.
“Wench, what the hell happened, why do you sound like a whiny brat?” she says by way of greeting.
I tell her.
A car cruises by, the top open, Dogg Wilson’s upper body sticking out. He stares at me with unblinking eyes as they drive by, the wind blowing through his dark blonde hair.
I know he’s not with Sade or the other Kings because they would never lower themselves to drive in a five-year-old Mercedes, least of all with a bunch of weed-smoking dudes from the public college. It’s a known thing about Dogg that he likes to spend time in unsavory kind of places with unsavory kinds of people. He also likes drugs, booze, and wild nights out more than any other King.
In fact, Sade and Micah rarely drink or go out, Carlton Wilde even less than them, being the professional athlete that he is. As for Chase Daytona, he is too often on business trips selling weapons to foreign governments to be anything but grim and serious all the time. He’s also the senior King, and their unnamed leader, even though he’d never try to order the others around. Wild beasts like the Heathen Kings cannot be tamed even by each other. All they have is a code of honor to guide themselves by and the rules of their society, which some say are written in blood.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line after I finish talking before Mel drops a, “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes still locked on the shape of Dogg in the distance. I shudder, and not because of the cold. There was something in his unblinking eyes, like an animalistic promise. Even though I can’t see him clearly anymore, his sleazy attention lingers.
“You should have stayed off the Kings’ radar, Justine.”
“You think Ichoseto draw Sade Royales’ attention?” I snap. “He’s the closest thing I know to royalty, for Christ’s sake. I never dared look directly at him, and you think I made a move? That I did anything to deserve this?”
“I never said you deserved it,” she says pacifistically. “I’m just saying something must have happened. You’ve been living in his home for the whole year, and he didn’t make a move. Something must have triggered him.”
My eyes narrow in the dark, but I can’t pretend I don’t know what she means. We can try and be politically correct all we want, but I shouldn’t have given in to the fantasy of having a relationship with someone so high above my station as Dean Rowland. It made me look like a gold digger, not worthy of respect, and that must have placed me in a very bad zone for Sade.
Dean might not be a King, heir to an empire of arsenals like Sade, but he’s still the son of the prime minister. A fairy tale like this could work in the world of mere mortals, but not in the world of the ultra-elites, which is why I don’t argue with Mel any further. If I opened my legs for Dean, of course the others would think that I’d do it for them as well, for money, connections, or fame.
“You can’t be alone right now,” she says after another short break. “We need to gather the girls, talk this through.”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently, my walk brisker, a sense of panic descending over me. “They can’t ever know. I called you first because, well, I knew you’d understand.”
Another pause. Mel understands the feeling of violation better than anyone else, but she insists.
“We swore to each other, Justine. The four of us, forever, no matter what. Maybe Annie and Eva don’t have the same experiences we do, but you know you need them to help you heal.” Then softer, sweeter, “we all love you, you know.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I’m pulled toward her with invisible wires. I never had siblings, but if I did, the bond couldn’t have been stronger than it is with these three women. Even though we come from wildly different backgrounds, the four of us have something in common that acts like glue.
“I’m on my way.”
***
Justine
MEL HANDS ME A MUGof tea, making sure I cradle it safely between my hands before she curls one leg under her buttocks and sits down on the cozy cushioned divan by the window.
“I trusted him,” I whisper, sniffling above the steamy mug. My eyes are on Mel’s aristocratic face framed by perfectly silky chestnut hair, but I’m looking through her. Annie and Eva barely even breathe on either side of me on the bed, Annie stroking my hair and Eva staring at me with profound eyes that I don’t want to face. I can’t put up with the way she x-rays my soul, but her presence does me good, like a soothing pill.
“He said he would cherish my virginity, and I believed him,” I say. “He trusted me enough to pass ten grand through my account to send to his mother. He didn’t have a doubt that I would keep his secret and his dad would never find out. Who does that? What woman wouldn’t have believed that he was serious?”
“Ten grand is scraps for a man like that. He never courted you in the open, and that was one huge red flag to me.” Leave it to Eva Brannan to offer a sobering perspective, even when you don’t want to hear it. Or especially then. “He also insisted on filming the two of you having sex.”
“It was–”
She holds up her hand, not letting me continue. “I know. He said it was for the two of you later on, when you’re an old and bored couple, to spice up your sex lives. But who thinks about those things the very first time they have sex with a person they’re into? He should have been far more preoccupied with making your first time special. Like kissing you from head to toe, getting you properly wet. And be honest–” her eyes fix on mine, smart, piercing blue cutting into soft caramel. “He got kinky from the start in more ways than just filming you.”
Heat colors my cheeks. No one can see through me quite as well as Eva Brannan, and no one can put things into perspective like her.
Eva isn’t an aristocrat like Mel, or a scholarship student with a filthy mouth like Annie. Yes, it was her brilliant mind that got her into Norton King's College, but not to study. She’s here to teach. Even though she’s only three years our senior, she powered through college like the super brain that she is and ended up teaching Philosophy, because the chancellors at Norton King’s wanted the best.
