Submission (The Middleton #2)

1. I’ve Said Too Much

Chapter 1

I’ve Said Too Much

Megan

I pride myself on getting out of bed every single day and doing the work of moving forward with my life. I go to school, I go to work, and I do my best to leave the past where it is… behind me. But the call from my sister has disrupted all of that positive momentum and put me in the worst of moods.

I’m tapping my fingers impatiently against the desk in my last class of the day, waiting for my professor to finish talking about the upcoming exhibition.

“This year’s exhibition should be incredible and I’ll expect to see many of you there, supporting your fellow students who were selected to exhibit their pieces.”

Ashley is sitting a few seats away from me, and I notice she’s wearing a foreboding expression on her face. The hint of glee I feel is immense and seems to calm my nerves.

Based on the rumors floating around, Ashley was close to suspension when the Dean found out that she bribed her way onto the winners' list. Of course, her parents conveniently made a sizable donation to the college a day or so later as their version of an apology. Throwing money around to influence an outcome seems to be a family trait.

I see her stiffen and then immediately whirl her head around to catch me grinning. The malice in her eyes makes me wince. She’s an evil-hearted bitch.

I start shoving things in my bag so that I’m ready to make a break for it as soon as class is over. My head hasn’t been into it all day and frankly, I’m in no mood to deal with Ashley’s wrath if I can avoid it. But when I look up, I see another pair of eyes staring in my direction.

Ever since Hunter put Ricky in his place, I haven’t had any problems with him. He actively goes out of his way to avoid me, but lately, I’ve noticed him watching me with a pensive expression. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he hasn’t reported what happened with Hunter to the college. I have a feeling that he’s terrified.

Now that I think about it, nobody’s been bothering me. And while Ashley may give me a side eye now and then, she hasn’t been getting in my face, which is odd because she makes it a point to track me down and make my life miserable. It had gotten so bad; I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t back in high school. I always thought college was for adults and that these sorts of antics wouldn’t take place. God, was I wrong.

My bag is already in my hands as I watch the clock. As soon as the professor dismisses us, I’m on my feet until the instructor calls my name.

“Miss Taylor, please stay back.”

My stomach knots.

Double fuck.

I trudge down the steps toward her, “Yes?”

From the corner of my eyes, I can see Ashley taking her sweet time, putting her things in her bag, and watching me as Ricky stands next to her.

“It’s about the exhibition,” the professor says, studying me. “Make sure that you’ve arranged for the proper formal attire. The guest of honor is Dante DiAngelo. He’s from a very prominent family in Southern California and is a well-known art collector. Aside from him, I’ll email you the guest list. You have to remember that you’re supposed to mingle and network with the people attending. A lot of these people have the ability to advance your career, so make sure you know their names, and you find some topics of conversation. This is an opportunity you need to make the most of.”

Excitement thrums in my blood, and I nod eagerly. “I understand. I’ll be ready.”

She smiles at me. “Good, I’ll email you the list this evening. If you don’t have a dress, I can share some stores that allow rentals.”

This college caters to art students from wealthy families, kids who are just passing the time until their trust funds kick in, not students with my sort of background. So, while the professor’s tone is kind, and I know she means well, I also understand why she’s offering.

“I already have a dress.” I beam at her. “But thank you.”

“Good, then.” She starts rearranging her papers. “That’s all I had to say.”

I scurry off, and just as I exit the room, Ashley steps in front of me, her eyes enraged but her tone sugary sweet.

“What was that all about?”

I adjust my hold on my bag.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Now, if you’ll excuse me-“

I can see Ricky standing a few feet away, watching us intently but remaining a purposeful distance from us.

“It seems your boyfriend really pulled some strings for you,” Ashley comments maliciously. “Not surprised. I heard you got yourself a sugar daddy.”

I go still at her mention of Hunter and she takes the opportunity to lean forward, her voice low.

“What’s it like spreading your legs for a little bit of money instead of for free, like you usually do? I was wondering how you managed to buy your way onto the winner’s list. Now I know how.”

“I didn’t buy my way onto anything,” I hiss, suddenly furious. “I didn’t have to. I wouldn’t stoop to your level. And the only reason you’re coming at me right now is that even with all your money, you couldn’t take something which was never rightfully yours. Your insecurities are not my problem!”

Her face tightens at my words. “It seems you need another lesson in respect.”

“What?” I don’t bother lowering my voice. “Are you going to try to beat me up again? You know, you act like some stuck-up socialite half of the time, but then you reduce yourself to acting like a bully in some public high school bathroom. Grow the fuck up, Ashley.”

Her face twists in anger and I’m not surprised. It’s not like I never stood up to her before, but I’ve never been so confrontational and so confident. I dare her to fuck with me.

Something shifts in her eyes, and she sneers, “You should really be careful how you talk to me, Megan. Do you think you’re safe right now because you’re letting some old man fuck you? Where will you be when he throws you aside like some used-up whore? Because he will, and I’ll still be here waiting for you to fall apart like the talentless tramp you are.”

Her words conjure a painful throb in my chest because many of them are triggering for me, like whore and talentless. Many of those words remind me of another person I avoid like the plague: my sister. I recall our brief but disturbing conversation.

“You’re a hard one to catch up with,” Rachel said after I answered the phone.

Immediately, I recognized the voice, and all those sour feelings of childhood rushed back.

“How did you get this number?”

“Did you move?”

“What do you want, Rachel?”

She always wants something, and it’s never a good thing for me.

“You’re still a rude bitch, I see.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I want to come to see you,” she blurts out.

“For what?”

“Do I need a reason to visit my sister?”

She’s never once acted like a sister to me and allowing her back into my life would be a huge step backward.

“I’ve got to go,” I told her, knowing that if Hunter heard our cold exchange, it would raise more questions about my past that I’m not ready to answer.

“This conversation isn’t over!”

“Yes, it is.”

And I hung up.

Evacuating a bad situation for my own mental wellness is not something I would have normally done in the past, but this is a new day, and I’m a new Megan. It’s time that both of these toxic women understand that.

“You know, from the way you’re so invested in my love life, I have to wonder if you’re not just a little bit in love with me. I mean, nobody has ever cared so much about who I sleep with as you do.”

When her face blanches, I smile ruthlessly and know that I’ve got her right where I want her.

“And before you go around calling me a whore to whoever will listen, you should get your facts straight about who I’m involved with. He’s not as forgiving as I am.”

After saying that, I brush past her and begin walking away.

“You cunt!” She screams at me. “I should–“

“Megan!” a familiar voice full of warning calls out, and Ashley falls silent as Miss Maverick approaches us.

Her smile is sharp like she knows what she’s interrupting. “Just the girl I was looking for. Can I have a minute of your time, or are you two busy with something important?”

I glance back at the red-faced bitch standing a few feet away from me, and then I nod my head. “Sure, we were just finished.”

Miss Maverick walks with me to the entrance of the college, not saying a word. I glance at her curiously, and when we come to stand at the front doors, I finally ask, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” she responds. “I saw the way that girl was harassing you, and since I was asked to keep an eye on you, I removed you from the situation.”

“An eye on me?” I blink, taken aback. “By whom?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Clearly not.”

“Then I’ve said too much.”

She’s about to leave, but I stop her as a deep realization sinks into me.

“Wait, was it Hunter?”

She just smiles, and this queasy feeling intensifies within me.

“Is he having me watched here?”

It’s already enough that I know he can be a cold-blooded killer, but I draw the line at stalking. As if one is truly worse than another, I think to myself.

“No,” Miss Maverick denies. “I was just asked to look after you, and if I saw anybody making you uncomfortable, he wanted me to deal with it.”

I let out a breath, “Oh.”

Okay, the gesture borders on oddly sweet and a tad bit stalkerish, but I’m willing to look past it. It’s better than having Lars and Parker scare half of the students to death by glaring at them all day.

“I see.”

I’m about to say thank you when I stare at her, and something else occurs to me. Something I’m almost afraid to ask.

“He didn’t have anything to do with the outcome of me showing at the exhibition, did he?”

“Of course not,” Miss Maverick chuckles. “The panel was very confident in the quality of your work. Mr. Middleton simply advised us to make a fair judgment.”

I feel like my entire world has been shaken. First, my sister calls me out of the blue with her bullshit, and now this.

“So all this was his doing? He got the previous winners overthrown?”

“You make it sound manipulative when it wasn’t that. He simply wanted everything to be fair as it should be.”

“How could he even have a say in what goes on here?”

“Mr. Middleton is a very popular patron of the arts. He’s well-known in the arts community. When he approached me, he told me that all he wanted was a just evaluation of your work and that if you didn’t make the cut, he’d figure out something else for you. But he was right. He knew you should have been on the shortlist to exhibit your work, as you were at first. He showed me a sketch you drew, and I was confused about how you’d been replaced myself. Your work is truly remarkable for someone who didn’t study at a professional art school.”

I should be furious that he interfered, but my heart is feeling so full right now. He didn’t say a word to me, even when I was so nasty towards him. I made it clear that I didn’t trust him, didn’t trust us, but he still championed me in the background.

“I feel like an idiot,” I breathe, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.

“It’s fine.” Miss Maverick pats my shoulder. “And I do hope you believe that the results weren’t rigged. I was only brought into the mix as an impartial judge to give you and all the students here a fair chance. I have too much integrity to do otherwise.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

I mull over everything Miss Maverick revealed as I head home. Everything she said rings true to me, but I still feel really overwhelmed by this new information by the time I reach home.

Do I have any idea of who the man I’m sleeping with really is or what he’s capable of? Does he really have my back or does he want something more from me?

And more importantly, am I strong enough to give it to him?