Chapter 28 #2
Sophine sits on the chair, a workpad in one hand, a stylus in the other. She finishes making notes on the screen before closing it and looking at me as she sets it all down.
I stand, as there isn’t a seat for me. And she doesn’t rise.
The off-white suit she wears looks insanely stylish as she reclines, taking me in.
Finally, I drop my eyes and head, like I’m submitting to her, and it sticks hard in my throat. No amount of swallowing can make me okay with that.
“I’m sorry, Monarch.”
She doesn’t answer for a long time, and I force myself to keep my head down.
Finally, she speaks. “For what?”
I wince. “The first interview.”
“Not for last night?”
“No.”
She makes a small sound. “You might not be the Luxe, but you’re still one of my selected girls. I expect more from all of them. Disappearing, running around, mouthing off and taunting boys…”
This time I raise my head.
“If you wanted a mate, I’m happy to set you up with a distant relative of mine. He’s a little problematic, but then again, so are you. Who knows? Maybe it’s a match made in heaven.”
I bite down on what I want to say, because I don’t think she cares who I mate with. Though I doubt she’d actually set me up with family. We’re already close enough to that to suit her.
But I do force myself to speak.
“I didn’t taunt. They followed me and assaulted me.”
Her eyes narrow. “I wasn’t talking about idiotic gossip. I was talking about the fact you humiliated a suitor who called on you. That didn’t make the gossip Stitches, but it reached my ears. And assaulted? Who?”
“Are you going to do anything about it?” I ask.
“Watch that tongue. I don’t like attacks, Miss Gardener.”
Now she gets up and walks around me like I’m a horse she can’t decide whether is a prize or glue factory fodder.
“If I can speak freely, I don’t like being forced to find a mate.”
“You’re an Omega. It’s your role.”
“We’re more than animal instinct.”
“I never mentioned animal anything,” she says. “I’m just stating you have a role in society. We all do.”
“So, with respect, is it under the guise of societal rules that everyone must stick to narrow confines.”
She sighs, sits once more, a hand on each arm of her chair as she crosses her legs. “You’re clearly very bright, and very unlike your sister, Violet.”
“But isn’t that good? That we’re different?”
“It makes no difference.”
“It should,” I say.
“Why? And where does it end? People doing what they want, mating with the wrong person or the same sex—which if things weren’t in need of more numbers in regards to Omegas, I’m not against—resulting in fewer children, fewer Omegas being born.”
“That’s not true, not entirely. People are happier having babies if they mate for love, and what about packs?”
“Those?” Her eyes narrow as her mouth thins. “Outmoded and barbaric, one woman with a host of men. Fewer babies. Fewer Omegas. Let me ask you something, Iris?—”
She stops as an alert on her workpad starts to beep. She picks it up, and as she reads, the heat of her fury scorches my skin.
“You’re her, aren’t you? The Queen Bee? Someone’s just suggested it and it makes total sense. I should strip your family of their standing and throw you in a prison on the mainland.”
I stare at her. Gawp. I can feel myself actually gawping.
Somehow, I get my mouth to shut and my voice to work, even as my entire body turns numb. “I’m the what?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’m not in the mood,” she says.
“I’m not. I meant, how could you think that?”
Her tone turns icy. “Easily.”
“I’m not. I swear I’m not.” I ball my hands at my sides.
“Let me see, you’re a troublemaker, you do what you want when you want, and you have to be the scourge of your poor mother’s existence. Of course you are.” She glares.
My body burns as a heavy weight crushes me down. “I’m not.”
“Prove it.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. Not sure I’m hearing her. I want to scream, argue, but while my mission’s gone south, if I fight with her, then I’ll never get a chance to say my piece, to try to convince her to speak to the rebels. “I wouldn’t do something like that.”
“You like to write. I know that about you.”
“But—”
“How about this,” she says silkily. “You prove to me you’re not the Queen Bee and I’ll overlook your sour attitude toward my policies and blatant disregard for the Season’s decorum.”
“How—”
“Figure it out.” Sophine smirks. “But do know this. If you are lying and you indeed are this mischievous little pest, I will expose you. You’ll be banished, and your family will never be allowed in the Upper Side again. Now go.”
“You kissed them?” Quinn shrieks. “Both?”
I sit on my bed, door locked. I had to leave without a word, Fredrick marched me out and Mari booked a cab to take us home to avoid prying eyes. Reece played servant well.
I grip the phone tight. “That’s your takeaway from everything? The changes people want which would be amazing for you. But Quinn, what do I do with the Monarch thinking I’m the Queen Bee?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just tell her you’re not.”
I push out a breath, “I did. She wants me to prove it. How do I do that? How do you prove you’re not someone?”
“She could just be testing you, see if you’d confess?”
“I’m not the Queen Bee so I didn’t crack,” I mutter, picking at the embroidered flower on the pillowcase. Then I punch it. “So, you know.”
Quinn hums a moment. “Why don’t you have the Monarch take your phone and then she can see you haven’t posted anything on social media.”
“I don’t think that’d work.”
All I can think of is Killian texting me in the middle of the Monarch looking. The fallout would be terrible. We want to get someone on the board, we want to get her in the mood to listen, not for me to bring things crumbling down before there’s a chance to do anything.
“I could try and find the Queen Bee’s identity,” I say.
“We can look,” Quinn says. “She can’t be that hard to find.”
“I’ll get Rue on the case.”
Quinn starts to laugh in agreement, but it suddenly stops. “Oh.”
“Oh what?” I ask.
Adrenaline pumps in me but beneath that is a fever and churning stomach.
“Oh, I think that’s the least of your problems. I can see right here on my device that according to the Stitch grapevine the Queen Bee’s about to release a new Stitch, and apparently, it’s not good. It’s all about you.”
Shit.