16. Maddison
Maddison
R iver and I remain relatively quiet while we run. The gym is not too packed, but the people there constantly glance at us, and it ruins my run. By the time I’m finished, I’m more than ready to go to my room and shower.
“But what if there are cameras?” River asks as we exit the gym.
I wipe some sweat from my brow. “I’ll ransack my room, and cover all of my bases.” When his lips part in what is more than likely a protest, I add, “I can’t just stay in your room. I need to be able to go into mine.”
His throat muscles work as he swallows down the protest. “All right, but if you need anything?—”
“I text you if something goes wrong.” I offer him a forced smile then start toward my room, which is in the opposite direction of his.
I move quickly, needing some space so I can clear my head. It’s not that I don’t like being around him—I do a ton—but seeing the paparazzi was like a bitch-slap reminder across the face of what I’m getting myself into with this fake dating plan of ours. I don’t believe I’m from royal blood, but I am worried about River’s world. I could barely walk through the lobby of his building in the city. How am I supposed to deal with being in newspapers and enduring this constant attention merely from walking around with him.
What I need to do is figure out why in the hell this society wants to come after me. I may not understand societies, but corruption and being targeted by male assholes is definitely something I’ve had to do on multiple occasions.
I decide to take some action when I get back to my dorm room. But I take a shower first because I freaking stink. Once I’m clean and dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt, I slip on my shoes and head out to see if Lily is home. I luck out and find her in the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboards. She looks like she just returned from class, sporting comfortable but stylish pants and a colored shirt.
“Where the heck did the movers put the forks?” she mumbles while closing a drawer.
“Hey,” I greet her as I enter the living room quarters.
She jolts, her gaze snapping to me. But the instant she spots me, I know she’s learned about River and me.
“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here because I heard a rumor that I want to confirm before I start getting too excited.” She practically skips over to me, and I have to wonder if this isn’t her getting excited, then what the heck is?
“I already know what you’re going to say.” I sit down on the sofa. “So, to answer your question, River and I are dating. But it’s not anything serious.”
The high-pitched squeal that leaves her mouth is enough to make me about piss my pants. Fortunately, I don’t have to pee.
“Oh my God, I knew it!” she exclaims as she dramatically plops down onto the sofa beside me.
“How the heck did you know?” Especially since we’re fake dating.
Sure, we kind of hooked-up last night, but if the society hadn’t become a problem, we wouldn’t be dating.
I think …
“I could just sense it.” She reclines back on the sofa. “River has never spent this much time with a girl before, so I knew he liked you.”
“And how did you know I liked him?” I question
“I don’t know. You just seem like the kind of person who would be good with him, and since you’ve spent so much time with him, I assumed you’d fall for him eventually.” She smiles as she adds, “River is the nicest guy when he lets his walls down. I’ve seen him around you, and I can tell he’s been doing that with you.” She flips her hair off her shoulder. “Plus, I have a sixth sense about these things.”
“About people liking each other?”
“About people being soulmates.”
I have to bite back a laugh. “Lily, we’re just casually dating.”
“For now.” She gives me this knowing smile that makes me slightly uncomfortable because, for a crazy moment, it feels like she can see something I’m not aware of yet.
I can’t fall for River. Hooking up with him was already crossing a line. We need to keep this fake dating under control and only put on a show when we have to because the last thing I need is to be plastered around in articles as River’s side piece for northside.
Speaking of articles …
“Totally off the subject,” I say, “but can I have Wren’s number? There’s something I need to ask her.”
“Sure.” She stuffs her hand into her pants pocket to retrieve her phone.
She tells me Wren’s number, and I punch it into my phone then call her.
Puzzled curiosity creases Lily’s face, but she doesn’t inquire why I’m calling Wren. Not that I care.
“Hello?” Wren answers, her voice flooded with perplexity.
“Hey, this is Maddy, Lily’s roommate,” I explain. “She gave me your number.”
“Oh, hey.” A drop of her confusion evaporates. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to ask you a question. It’s about this article that I’m looking into, and I was wondering if you knew the author of it because I really need to talk to her about … something.” Great, I sound sketchy as hell.
“Um … maybe,” Wren replies in a puzzled tone. “What’s her name?”
“Laura Mellyton.” I chew on my thumbnail, hoping she doesn’t ask why, mostly because I don’t want to get into it right now.
“Oh, yeah, I know her.” Wren drags out a pause. “I can give you her personal number if you want.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” I breathe in relief that she didn’t ask for more information.
She tells me she’ll text it to me, and then we hang up.
Lily is watching me with a curious look, but I ignore it as I rise to my feet.
“Thanks for helping me out,” I tell her as I pocket my phone. “I’m going to go contact this reporter.”
“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything,” she calls out as I walk toward my room.
I nod and throw her a thumbs-up from over my shoulder before stepping into my room and shutting the door. I head to my laptop and send Laura a message about wanting to ask her a few questions about one of her articles. I mention I know Wren, but I’m extremely vague about which article I want to speak about.
Once I’m finished, I begin to gather my stuff for class but pause as my phone rings. I almost don’t check to see who’s calling, figuring it’s more than likely my mother or Drew. But this odd feeling washes over me that I need to look. So, I do.
The calls from Noah.
Assuming he has a question about one of the contacts I gave him, I answer it. “Hey, what’s up?” I say with the phone pressed between my shoulder and ear as I exit my dorm room.
“I’m sorry,” is Noah’s response.
A cold chill slithers up my spine. “What happened?”
“I called one of your contacts, Aiden, and we set up a time to meet up to make a deal, but when I showed up, this group jumped me, dragged me to this house, and now they’re forcing me to make this call.” The shakiness in his tone reveals he’s worried. “They said, if you don’t come to this place by six o’clock, bad shit will happen to me—ow, dammit, I’m doing what you’re telling me to do,” he says to someone else. “Fine … Maddy, Aiden wants to talk to you.”
I could hang up, and maybe I should. But I’ve never been the kind of person to put my shit on someone else—that’s my parents' thing, not mine.
“Hey, Maddison,” he says into the phone, sounding elated. “I heard a rumor that you have a bounty on you, but no one can get a hold of you. So, imagine my surprise when I get a call from a guy who knows you. Lucky me.”
“What do you want?” I snap, balling my free hand into a fist.
“I think you know the answer to that,” he tells me. “But in case you’re as dumb as your father, I’ll spell it out for you. Meet me at the old theater on northside, the one that’s been closed for ages, or your little rich friend will become best friends with the canal.”
While I hate most north-siders, Aiden was never a truly awful person. In fact, I once overheard him tell my mother he’d take care of me and her if anything happened to my father. I guess that was bullshit, like everything else in my life.
I swallow the lump welling in my throat. “I thought you were my father’s friend.”
“I am, but you know how these things work, Mads,” he replies with a tiny bit of remorse in his tone. “Money is tight, and I need it more than I need to be on your father’s good side. Besides, he’s in jail for a long time.”
My heart is pounding so deafeningly inside my chest as I rack my brain for a way out of this. In the end, I know what I have to do.
“Fine,” I grit out. “I’ll be there.”
“You better,” he says. “The clock’s ticking. Tick. Tock.”
He hangs up. So do I.
Gripping my phone in my hand, I backtrack to my room, grab my bottle of pepper spray, then head out. I try not to think about where I’m going, because if I do, I’ll psyche myself out. I just put one foot in front of the other, walking out of the school and across the parking lot toward the bus stop. When I reach the gate entrance, I quicken my pace.
I’m so distracted that I’m not paying attention to my surroundings, which is a first for me.
I don’t hear it until it’s too late—the sound of footsteps running after me. When I do pick up on them, I start to whirl around, but a bag gets pulled over my head before I can see who it is. I lift my fist to punch them, but arms wrap around me, and then someone grabs my legs.
“Maddison Averly, you have officially been captured by the Royal Academy Society,” a male voice fills my ears.
I’m not above screaming, so I open my mouth to do just that. However, a hand covers the scream before I can.
My lungs burn as I inhale, and it dawns on me then.
I think I just got chloroformed.
Before I can process that, darkness overcomes me as I pass out.