42. Juliet #3
“I’m not sure that going back to Silverwood Public would be best for you,” he states, spearing one of the bites of meat on his plate with his fork. I watch as he pops it into his mouth and chews. My own stomach rebels at the idea of me actually consuming any more.
“I can’t drop out.” Somehow, I manage to get the words out.
Morpheus shakes his head. “Oh, of course not. A lady shouldn’t let go of her education like that,” he agrees, and for a moment, hope blossoms inside of my chest. “That’s why we have you in online classes, but you won’t be returning to…
” He pauses. His upper lip curls back and his nose wrinkles as if he can smell poverty in the room with us.
“ Public school. There are so many distractions and the teachers can’t provide you with the right amount of attention in a place like that.
” A sigh escapes his lips. “No, you won’t be returning.
If you prove you’re capable of following my house rules, I might consider moving you back to Silverwood Prep.
For now, online classes will provide you with more appropriate one-on-one educational learning. ”
Capable of following his house rules? My chest pumps with air. Up and down. Up and down as I try to calm my breathing and keep my anger in check.
Pompous ass. Vile. Disgusting. Piece of shit. To him, a school is only as good as its looks and reputation. It’s why Silverwood Prep was even built—the wealthy upper class of town didn’t want their sons and daughters mixing with those of less value in their eyes.
Valuable enough to clean their homes, walk their dogs, wash their cars, but not enough to be seen as actual people.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Morpheus that people like Principal Long, like Cory, or even the guys’ coach are ten times better than he ever will be.
They don’t need money and billion-dollar homes to be good people.
They prove it every day they show up and help those around them.
“Do I get a say in my own education?” Despite the fact that I warn myself against angering the man sitting next to me, the question spits out before I can stop it.
Morpheus pauses, his fork half lifted to his mouth, and instead of finishing the path, he lowers it back to his plate and turns to look at me.
“Of course, you do.” His lips curve down in disapproval.
“I understand you thought you had no other options before, but now you’re back where you belong.
You’ll make the right choices, Juliet. You always have. ”
“Like the choice to live here?” I prompt. “With you? I made that choice?”
He releases his utensils entirely and leans back. For a moment, the two of us just sit there in tense silence. Then, he reaches down, lifting the cloth napkin from his lap to dab at the corners of his mouth. I nearly flinch when, at the flick of his fingers, he sends it overtop his plate.
“If you’re insinuating that I somehow forced you to make the appropriate decision to move in with me while your father faces his trial and your mother is away,” he begins, gaze hardening. “Then I’d like to remind you that I always gave you options, darling.”
Those options hadn’t been choices at all. It was either let him take me or face the court system, let Nolan’s mom lose her job, and watch the guys get arrested. There was no choice. I did what I had to. I always will for them, even now.
“You threatened my friends,” I say. If he expects me to sit here silently and be the perfect little puppet for him to play with then he’s in for a rude awakening.
Maybe the old Juliet would have shrunk away and done what she was told, but this new Juliet is too angry; she’s too fed up with the unfairness of the world.
“I merely pointed out that there were many difficult circumstances that could befall them,” Morpheus states. “You could have stayed. You didn’t. You made the right choice.”
“You—”
“I believe dinner is over.” Morpheus cuts me off and reaches to the side, picking up a small bell on the side of the table farthest from me.
I hadn’t noticed its presence before but as he rings it and staff appear once again in the doorway to the dining room, rushing over to begin cleaning things up, I realize that we were never truly alone.
Do they know what he’s doing? Do they care?
Guilt bites into my chest as my plate is whisked away from me as is the rest of the food. So much left untouched and yet, I can’t find it in myself to hate to see it go. My nausea never waned.
Morpheus’ chair scrapes the floor, jolting me back to reality and out of my own thoughts as he stands. When I go to stand as well, he settles a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. The feeling of his palm on my skin makes me clammy. I freeze.
The hand doesn’t leave me, though. Instead, it trails up to my throat and my tension rackets up higher and higher, concerned he’ll notice the marks Lex left behind.
The staff quickly disappears into the kitchens through the side door as Morpheus shifts his fingers to the single chain that dangles from the back of the diamond choker.
A light tug has my head tilting back. He stops behind my chair, looking down at me as if he wants to do so much more. I will not break, I tell myself. I will not show my fear.
“I’ll contact your friend,” he murmurs, bending closer. Just before his lips make contact with mine, I turn my head, and he grazes my cheek instead.
He stills and for a moment, neither of us moves. His mouth on my skin doesn’t pull away and sickness churns in my gut. Then, I feel him smile against me.
“Once wasn’t enough, darling.” His voice drops lower, until it’s barely more than a whisper. “Not hardly enough.”
The chain of the necklace is released and I sit up straight, my fingers curling into fists.
My nails stab into the flesh of my palm as I listen to the sound of his dress shoes clipping lightly over the hardwood floors as he leaves the room.
Even long after he’s gone, I still feel choked for breath and desperate for air that doesn’t smell like him.