36. Gulliver

GULLIVER

The cafeteria is buzzing when Izzy and I push through the doors. Her hair is a little mussed from where my hands have been tangled in it, and her lips look plump and kiss-swollen. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that we’ve been making out, and I don’t even try to keep the grin off my lips as I hold her hand tightly and lead her across to our table.

Pulling out a chair for her, I drag my own seat closer to hers and sit down, draping my arm across the back of her shoulders and absently kneading the muscles in her neck.

“We ordered for you,” Kip says.

“Thanks, man. What did you get us?” I ask.

“The sea bass for you and the gnocchi for Izzy.”

“Thank you, Kip, you’re an angel, I’m starving,” Izzy says sweetly.

Even though my ring is on her finger and my arm is curved possessively around her shoulders, I still feel a flash of annoyance at the smile she’s giving him. I shouldn’t be jealous. She’s been naked in my bed for the last three nights, but even though it’s obvious she wants me sexually, her “are we friends” speech has left me wondering if I’m imagining the connection I thought we shared.

She likes the way I touch her. She enjoys spending time with me, and more and more, she’s allowing me to be there for her when she needs support and reassurance. She gave me her virginity, for fuck’s sake. But I’m starting to question if her behavior is less about it being me touching her and more about anyone showing her care and affection. She’s been starved of basic human contact since her family forced her to become Penelope 2.0 over three years ago.

I’ve told her multiple times that what’s happening between me and her isn’t fake anymore, but I don’t think she feels the same way. She’s mine, but I’m terrified that I’ll wake up one day and find her gone without a word.

The room is loud, and I’m sure someone is asking me a question or expecting me to listen to what they’re saying, but I just don’t seem to be able to look away from the enigma sitting next to me. Even after all the time we’ve spent together in the last week, I don’t really understand her. She’s simple yet complex, beautiful yet completely unaware, and she’s changed me from happily being the villain to desperately hoping to be her hero.

When our food arrives, I absentmindedly eat, but my focus is on her. I can practically feel her anxiety, but I have no idea what else to do to make her feel better. This isn’t a game anymore, but ignorantly I thought we could have some fun while we messed with Penelope and fucked with her life.

I’ve always thought the Rhodeses were manipulative assholes, but I’m starting to realize they’re actually fucking psychos. They beat the shit out of Izzy, then went out to dinner like nothing happened. She’s been gone for a week, and the only contact she’s had from them was a single text message reminding her of her obligations to her family.

And now her mom thinks she’s just going to go home after school, like everything is just fine and fucking dandy. A part of me wants to carry Izzy out of here and hide her from her crazy family, but I know that no matter how much I want to protect her, she needs to be in that chemistry class this afternoon. Her mom thinks she’s the one in control, but this is the turning point—something to send a clear message to her family that she isn’t playing their game anymore.

By the time we get to the science lab, her steps have slowed to barely a shuffle, and the tension emanating from her is almost palpable. She’s scared, and the caveman inside of me is telling me that I need to find the source of her fear and kill it. But as much as I wish I could, I can’t murder her parents and twin sister.

“Do you want me to make you come?” I blurt a little too loudly.

“What?” she hisses, turning to stare open-mouthed at me.

“I don’t like seeing you this fucking stressed. I can see it coming off you in waves. The best ways I know to relieve tension are smoking weed and orgasming. I don’t have any weed, so do you want me to make you come? It’ll take the edge off.” I smirk.

When the first giggle curls from her lips, I feel like the fucking king of the world. As more giggles follow, her entire body relaxes, and she wraps her arms around my waist and melts into me.

“Is that a yes to the orgasm? Because I think I can make you scream before we’re even late for class.”

“Sex at school is probably frowned upon.” She chuckles, curling her arm around my back and pressing herself into my side.

“You’re an Elite now. You can basically do whatever you want,” I whisper conspiratorially.

“We’re friends, not friends with benefits, remember? So, we should probably take orgasms of any kind off the table.”

A rough, guttural grunt rings from my throat. “I think you misunderstood, Little Ghost. We’re not friends with benefits, because that makes what we have sound casual and shallow. We’re a twisted, fucked-up lie that morphed into a guilt-ridden truth. But make no mistake, Izabella, you’re mine. I won’t share you, I won’t pretend anymore, and I have no intention of giving you up. Right now, I don’t know what label to give us—really fucking complicated maybe—but we’re one hundred percent undeniably involved.”

Not wanting to give her a chance to argue or protest, I drop my arm over her shoulder and lead her into the lab and up to the teacher’s, Mr. Long’s, desk.

“Mr. Long,” I say with a bright faux smile. “Have you met Izabella? She’s transferred into this class, so now you’ve got both of the Rhodes twins to imbue with your scientific wisdom.

“Ah, yes, Miss Rhodes. Principal Smith did inform me that you would be joining us, please find a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” Izzy says politely.

Leading her to the back of the class, I glare at Milton Caldwell—who normally sits on the desk to my right—until he packs up his laptop and moves to an empty seat in the front row. I motion for Izzy to take my usual desk, and I take the now vacant one on her right, while Davis slides into his desk on Izzy’s left.

I feel the ripple of anxiety that’s emanating from the girl beside me when her gaze lands on her sister’s usual desk. Although the majority of the students are already here, Penelope’s seat is empty, and I wonder if she’ll show up for class or if she thinks the texts from their mother will have Izzy falling back into line.

“You should text your sister and let her know you won’t be covering for her, or better yet…” Wiggling my eyebrows, I pull my cell from my pocket and snap a picture of me kissing Izzy’s cheek as she smiles at the camera. “I’ll post this to my Instagram, Penelope follows me, so if she’s messing on her cell, she’ll see it. We really need to get you set up with your own accounts.”

Izzy nods, nibbling on her nail nervously as she watches the doorway.

“Miss Rhodes,” Mr. Long calls.

“Yes, sir,” she answers.

“Would you happen to know where your sister is?”

She shakes her head, a genuinely regretful look on her face. “I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t seen her since before lunch. Me being in this class with her was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, perhaps you should let her know that in one minute she will be receiving a tardy if she isn’t here.”

“I can give her a call, if you’d like, sir,” Izzy says, like the perfect little submissive student.

“If you would,” he says, waving his hand in a “go ahead” motion.

“Sneaky, Little Ghost,” I whisper.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” she says, arching an imperious eyebrow at me as she pulls her cell from her blazer pocket and brings up her sister’s number.

I open my mouth to speak, then close it again when I hear the call connect.

“What?” I hear her Penelope snap.

“I have someone who would like to speak to you,” Izzy says calmly, standing from her seat and strutting to Mr. Long’s desk, holding the cell out for him to take.

Stifling a laugh, I turn to Davis and find a grin etched across his lips. “I fucking love her,” he says.

The sound of Mr. Long’s voice draws my attention, and I turn back to the front of the class. “Miss Rhodes, this is your chemistry teacher. Would you like to explain exactly what you’re doing that is more important than attending my class?”

I can’t hear what Penelope is saying to him, but a scowl forms on his clearly unimpressed face. “I see. Well, may I suggest you spend some time this evening Googling time management skills? Now, you’re late, so you’ll receive a tardy mark, and then for every minute more you’re late, you’ll receive another one, so I suggest you get a move on.” Ending the call, he hands the cell back to Izzy. “If you could take your seat, Miss Rhodes. I hope you’re slightly more prepared than your sister, because we’re going to be starting lab work today, and I’m afraid there’s no time to catch up if you don’t already know the material.”

“I’m sure I can keep up, Mr. Long,” Izzy says sweetly before turning on her heel and sashaying back to her desk.

“That was awesome,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It would have been perfect if we were having a pop quiz. But she’s resourceful, and she can fudge her way through an experiment if she picks a competent lab partner,” Izzy sighs.

“It’s only day one, Ghost. She’ll slip up sooner or later,” I tell her, settling back in my chair just as Penelope rushes through the door.

When the final bell of the day rings, I spring up from my seat and make a beeline for my locker, grabbing my stuff while I wait for the others to arrive. Just like Izzy predicted, Penelope managed to make it through our chemistry lab without anyone realizing that she hadn’t attended a science class in years. But after being called out by Mr. Long, she had a scowl etched across her face for the rest of the day.

Izzy’s last class of the day was AP algebra with Kip, and I’m desperate to know if Penelope turned up or if they had to figure out a way to force her to show. When I spot Izzy and Kip walking side by side, laughing, I’m hit with a spike of unbidden jealousy. It bothers me more than I’m willing to admit that Kip isn’t trying to hide how much he likes my fiancée. The feral, possessive side of me wants to drag her away from him, then possibly punch him in the face, then the balls for daring to want what belongs to me. But I rein it in, forcing myself to stay where I am, clenching and unclenching my hands into tight fists. When he nudges her playfully, I almost lose my shit, but then she lifts her head and spots me and her face lights up, her lips spreading into a wide smile.

“Hey,” she calls, bounding over to me.

My fists loosen, and I reach out a hand to her, so fucking relieved when she takes it that I haul her into my body and just hug her, holding her close to me. I can’t help glancing at Kip, needing him to see the triumph in my eyes and the girl in my arms, but he’s absorbed by his cell and not even looking at us.

This girl is making me crazy. She’s making me feel things that I’ve never felt before. I’ve shared girls with my boys before. Our circle is small. There are only so many girls our age in the same social sphere, which means if we all refused to get involved with girls our friends had been involved with, the pool would be incredibly fucking small, and we’re only eighteen. But the idea of anyone but me touching Izzy makes me feel fucking violent.

My Little Ghost is every bit my equal in money, status, and position, but where she towers over all of us is that she’s not jaded or hardened by this political world we live in. She literally couldn’t care less how many generations back I can count. She doesn’t care how big my trust fund is. She judges a person by the things she sees and the way they treat her.

The first time I spoke to her, I was an asshole, then I doubled down and made things a million times worse, but I’d like to think I’ve redeemed myself a little in the last week. Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking jealous every time she glances in another guy’s direction, because deep down, I know she deserves better than me.

Pulling her closer, I tilt her head back and look down at her, stroking her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “Have I told you how fucking sorry I am for all the shit I pulled with the proposal?”

“You actually haven’t, no,” she says, amused.

Sighing, I press a quick kiss to her lips. “Well, I am. I’m so fucking sorry that I dragged you into a game you shouldn’t have been forced into playing. You told me that my shit would bounce back on you, and I didn’t listen. But I’m not sorry that I get to help you with your sister or that you’re still wearing my ring. I hate that you got hurt, but I love that you’re on my arm, in my bed, and that I get to tell the world that you’re mine. Because you are Izzy, you’re mine, and I’ll never be sorry for that.”

Lifting her arms, she wraps them around my neck, pulls my face down, and kisses me for what feels like the very first time without any subterfuge. I don’t know if this kiss is an acceptance of my apology or her agreeing to be mine, but I’ll take it no matter what it means because she’s kissing me, and that’s all that matters.

When she eventually pulls back, I let her, even though I don’t want to. Thorn and Davis are both here too, chatting with Kip and pointedly ignoring the way Izzy and I are making out against my locker. School is over, and it’s time for us to leave, but I’m not sure I want to deal with whatever shitstorm might be waiting for us outside if her mom really does turn up, expecting Izzy to leave with her.

“Are you ready to deal with your mom if she’s out there?” I ask her quietly.

Exhaling slowly, she shakes her head. “Not even slightly, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

Looking up, I wait until I have all of the guys’ attention. “Whatever happens, Izzy leaves with us.”

They nod, and I nod back, taking Izzy’s hand in mine and entwining our fingers together. “Let’s go home then.”

Tension radiates through her as we step out of the school building and into the bright afternoon sunlight. There are a row of cars idling at the curb, and I spot Thorn’s family’s limo right at the back, several cars behind the Rhodeses’ town car.

Penelope is standing halfway down the steps with her friends, but she doesn’t look like she’s paying attention to whatever they’re saying to her because she’s scanning the crowd. When her eyes find us, a smug grin stretches across her mouth.

This morning she was impressed by her sister’s boldness, but as the day’s progressed, she’s gotten more and more pissed off at being forced to take her own classes and handle her own shit for a change.

Pulling Izzy against me, I tip her chin up. “We’ll have dinner with Dad, then we have a thing tonight. Fitzy’s bringing you some dresses to choose from, okay?”

She nods, but even with her body pressed up against mine, her attention is still focused on the car that’s moved to the head of the row and is now in front of the school steps.

I hold her a little tighter as the driver circles the car and opens the rear doors. I pin her to my side when Trudy Rhodes emerges wearing a tight black fitted dress with a black tailored jacket. Her hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail at her neck, and her eyes are covered by large black sunglasses. She looks like she could be in her twenties, but it’s all artificial.

Izzy’s entire body stiffens the moment her mother turns her poisonous gaze in our direction. A part of me desperately wants to push her behind me and form a human wall between my girl and her evil mother, but I can’t. So instead, I glance at Trudy, then look away, dismissing her as I focus on the beautiful ghost in my arms.

“Fuck her,” I murmur, smiling against her lips.

Her sharp exhale is audible, and she nods, forcing a shaky smile. “Don’t let me go, okay?”

“Never,” I promise.

Turning in my arms but staying as close to me as she can, Izzy presses her back against my front, and I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. The guys all crowd around us, and the five of us stand our ground, not moving as Trudy glares at us from her position on the curb, her toe tapping impatiently against the sidewalk.

Lifting her hand, Izzy waves at her mom, and I snicker, burying my face in her neck. Despite Trudy’s Botox-filled face being practically immobile, I still see the tic in her jaw when we don’t make any move to go to her, despite her obviously expecting her daughter to come to heel like a fucking dog.

After a long, silent showdown, Trudy sighs and strides confidently up the steps to where we’re standing.

“Izabella,” Trudy sneers.

“Hello, Mother,” Izzy replies.

“We’re leaving,” Trudy snaps, immediately turning and starting to walk away.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” Izzy says sweetly.

Freezing mid-stride, Trudy slowly spins back around and lifts her sunglasses onto her head. “I’m not playing, child. Get in the car. This farce is over,” her mother hisses, her eyes suggesting she’s scowling, although her expression remains neutral.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Trudy. Our car is actually just there.” I point toward Thorn’s limo. “But thank you so much for offering us a ride home,” I say with a wide “fuck you” smile to my future mother-in-law.

Ignoring me completely, Trudy steps into us, her long, white-tipped fingernails digging into Izzy’s arm as she grabs hold of her and tries to physically pull her out of my embrace. “Get into the goddamn car right now,” she snarls in Izzy’s face.

I give an almost imperceptive nod, and Kip, Hawthorn, and Davis crowd around us. Thorn drops his arm over Trudy’s shoulders, smiling widely as he dips his head down and speaks so low that only we can hear. “I suggest you get your fucking hands off her right now.”

“Go home, Mother. I’m not coming with you, and I’m not taking Penelope’s classes anymore. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve moved out, and I’m never coming back,” Izzy says with only a slight tremor in her voice.

Trudy’s expression manages to darken without her face actually moving, and her lips part.

“Mom,” I say acerbically, stopping her rant before she even has a chance to begin. “I can call you Mom, can’t I? Let me explain how this is going to go down. You’re going to take your poisonous hands off my fiancée, then you’re going to turn around and take your old, Botox-filled ass and get back into your car. After that, I suggest that you forget that you have a second daughter. That shouldn’t be too difficult for you, considering you’ve been doing it for the last three years. And when all of that is done, you’re going to delete her cell phone number from your phone and never contact her again.”

“Listen here, you little asshole,” she hisses, but I speak over her, ignoring her completely.

“No, you listen to me. We know what you and her father did to her. We have witnesses and photographic evidence that I will happily release to the press if you try to contact her again. I will drag your name through the mud until all anyone ever thinks about when they hear the name Rhodes is the bruises you put on your child’s face. You are a fucking disgrace,” I spit, teeth bared, my grip on Izzy the only thing that’s stopping me from punching the bitch in the face.

“How dare you!” she shrieks.

“I’m Gulliver Winslow. I can do whatever the hell I please.”

“Goodbye, Mother,” Izzy says, her voice full of quiet strength.

Trudy’s glare is glacial, her lips twisted into an ugly snarl as she spins around, stomps over to Penelope, and ushers her into the car.

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