9. Hawthorn
With my back against the wall, I scan the parking lot for the thousandth time, but no matter how many times I look, she’s not here. The front steps are almost empty now, but I still search the faces of the handful of girls who are gossiping and waiting for a glimpse at the now-infamous Penelope Rhodes, the girl stupid enough to walk away from a fortune. But none of them are her. I think a part of me knew she wouldn’t come to school today, but I’m still here, searching for her, just in case. I don’t like Penelope, I never have, but what happened between us isn’t something I can forget, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried to rationalize that it’s guilt I’m feeling, not anything more…emotional. Maybe this craving I have for her is simply because we shared something that changed me, but whatever it is, I can’t just pretend like it didn’t happen. Which is why I’m still standing here waiting for her to arrive, because if she does, I don’t want her to be alone.
I only caught a glimpse of her at the party, barely a passing glance before she was gone. But she did it; she broke the will. She freed both herself and her sister from its constraints and confronted her parents, and then she just walked away. She didn’t even stick around long enough to celebrate, she just left.
Izzy is beside herself; she’s been calling and texting her sister nonstop, but she hasn’t replied, not since the one and only text Penelope sent her telling her to enjoy her fucking party. Izzy is terrified that their parents have Penelope, that they’ve taken her and plan to use her to get revenge, but I think my Princess has just gone to ground. I think she’s holed up somewhere, alone, hating herself.
Exhaling, I push off the wall and stroll into school, hoisting my backpack higher up onto my shoulder. She should be here; she should be celebrating. She should be with me. Pulling my cell from my pocket, I hover my finger over her name in my contacts. I have her cell number now, but I haven’t called her or even sent her a text because I already know she’ll ignore me.
Her absence shouldn’t affect me. We weren’t friends before I pushed my dick into her body and filled her with my cum, and we aren’t friends now. But there’s something between us that I’m not ready to forget. After she left me, I spent three hours sailing, but it did nothing to eradicate her from my thoughts. I’d planned to…I don’t really know what I’d planned to do, but I wanted to see her at the party, to see if this ache in my chest went away when she was close. But instead, all I saw of her was a glimpse of her striding through the ballroom in an indecently tight black dress.
It’s been nearly two days since she slid into the back of a cab and left, and yet not a moment has gone by when I haven’t been thinking about the way it felt to be inside of her, the sound of her soft mewls of pleasure, and how right it felt to demand her complete submission.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched and re-watched the video of the two of us together, but enough that my dick gets hard at even the mention of her name, and I know that fucking someone else isn’t an option until I get rid of this craving I have for her.
Her leaving has definitely dented my pride, but this need for her feels like more than just wanting to make her feel as fucking addicted as I am. I might have been the one who said fucking her was a one-time thing, but I was wrong. One taste wasn’t enough. Now I just need to find her and let her know that she’s not free until I let her go, and I’m nowhere near done with her.
“Where is she?” Izzy asks the moment I step into homeroom.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming to school today.”
“She’ll be fine, she’s probably just taking a couple of days to get her head around everything that’s happened,” Gulliver tries to assure her, pulling her into his lap and pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Have you tried calling her this morning?” I ask Izzy.
“Twice, and I’ve texted her. She’s not even looking at my messages, but her cell is turned on, so she must know I’m trying to call her. What if they have her? What if they’ve done something awful to her?” Izzy gasps.
“What would be the point? We all saw the letter from the lawyers, it’s over. Nothing your parents do can change that,” Olly says.
“He’s right, Little Ghost, your mom and dad have nothing to gain from taking Penelope,” Gulliver says in a soothing tone.
Nodding, Izzy sighs, then turns to me. “What happened between the two of you?”
“She broke the will,” I say casually, unwilling to talk about what my Princess and I shared. I know Izzy, Gulliver, and the others want to know exactly what I did to help Penelope break the will. I know they must suspect that we had sex, but it feels wrong to admit it without her here. If she decides to tell her sister, I don’t care, but I don’t plan to confirm it either way.
“Have you spoken to her?” Izzy asks me again, her eyes shrewd as she watches me.
“No, I haven’t. If I had, I’d tell you,” I assure her, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her cheek before I take my seat and wait for the teacher to take roll call.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Kip asks as we make our way to our first class.
Forcing a neutral expression onto my face, I sigh. “It’s over, bro. The will’s broken, and the girls are free from their fucked-up parents. Penelope will turn up soon, and then Izzy can stop freaking out.”
Scoffing, Kip shakes his head. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t answer my question. I bet she wasn’t such a cold bitch when she was riding your dick.”
Clenching my jaw, I swallow down my biting reply, even though the need to defend Penelope burns inside of me. I loved fucking her, and I can’t wait to do it again, but why am I suddenly angry at my friends for saying the exact same thing I was thinking only days ago? Why am I so fucking worried about her? And why the hell am I having to fight the urge to threaten one of my best friends, that if he ever talks about my woman like that again, I’ll fucking kill him?
I’m so distracted with all of the unanswered questions that are swirling around my mind that I don’t pay attention in class—not that it matters, I could stop turning up altogether and still graduate. One of the joys of being rich is that money and influence are more powerful than academic prowess, and I received my early decision letter from my parents’ alma mater, Cornell, weeks ago.
Ignoring the teacher, I slide my cell from my blazer pocket and open my text app, typing out a message to Penelope before I can think better of it.
Me
Where are you, Princess?
Staring at the screen for a minute, I wait for the ticks to turn blue and show that she’s read my message, but nothing happens. It’s driving me fucking crazy, but I’m not exactly surprised that she’s ignoring me, just like she’s ignoring Izzy. By the time the lunch bell rings, I’m starting to get really fucking angry. I told her that I was in charge until this was over, and it’s far from fucking over. I know she knows how to be compliant and obedient, so the fact that she’s blatantly ignoring me feels like a challenge, like she’s taunting me to enforce my dominance over her.
My annoyance only builds during the rest of the day, and by the time I’m heading for my Mercedes, I’m seething and ready to hunt my defiant Princess down.
“You coming to ours?” Gulliver asks, his fingers entwined with Izzy’s.
“Not today, I’ve got a video chat with the folks,” I lie. I do plan to speak to my family later, but that’s not the reason why I’m not rushing to go hang with them.
Gulliver and Izzy finally admitted their feelings for each other just before their engagement party, and I’m happy for them, but there’s only so much of their blissfully-in-love company I can take. I genuinely love them both, but I’m at the limit of how much PDA I can watch, especially when seeing Izzy reminds me that Penelope is ghosting me right now.
Izzy’s eyes soften a little as she looks at me. “Where are your parents, Thorn?”
“Dubai, I think, I can’t really remember. I’m surprised they were here for as long as they were this time. They just can’t stand staying in one place, and Nate is almost as bad.”
“You don’t want to see Dubai?” she asks a little wistfully.
“I’ve seen it plenty of times, we have a house there.”
“Oh,” she says with a giggle. “So, are you all alone at your place, or do your parents keep staff there even when they’re not there?”
“We do have staff, but not live-in ones. Our housekeeper comes in a couple of times a week, and then I have a chef who can drop off meals for me when I don’t feel like cooking. But I’m staying on the boat right now, the house is too empty without anyone else there,” I tell her.
“Why don’t you just come and stay at Gulliver’s? It’s not like you don’t already have your own room there,” Izzy asks, looking to Gulliver, who just shrugs.
“Bro, you know you’re always welcome, you have your key. I’ve already told you just to move in till your parents get back,” Gulliver says.
“I’m fine. Staying on The Escape isn’t exactly a punishment, and Izzy, honey, you know I adore you, you’re like my sister. But you’re loud and I can’t listen to you scream Gulliver’s name anymore. I had enough of that the few weeks I stayed there with you both,” I say, bursting into laughter when her face twists into a horrified expression.
“Hawthorn!” she screams, slapping my arm before she turns and buries her bright red face in Gulliver’s chest.
“Little Ghost, don’t be embarrassed, I love it when you scream my name,” Gulliver purrs, sliding his arm around her back and palming her ass as he tips her chin back and presses his lips to hers.
“And that’s my cue to leave. Don’t make babies, guys, see you tomorrow.” Turning, I stride across the lot to my car.
The marina is bustling with life by the time I park my car and cross the short distance to The Escape, nodding and waving at all the people who greet me. When my parents are away, I usually split my time between here and the house, then spend most of my weekends at Gulliver’s. It’s not that I mind being alone, I don’t, it’s more that rattling around my parents’ huge home feels lonelier than being alone on The Escape.
But for reasons that I’m not quite ready to admit out loud yet, I’ve stayed on my boat every night since mine and Princess’s morning here. Our combined scent is long gone, but I still can’t bring myself to allow my cleaning crew in because I don’t want to completely erase every trace of her being here.
Unlocking the door, I step inside and inhale deeply, but all I can smell is the usual scent of wood, mixed with the briny tang of the salty water surrounding us. Dropping my backpack into the coat closet, I kick off my shoes and head for my bedroom. Stripping off, I drop my uniform into the hamper, then take a shower, hoping that the hot water will wash away some of my frustration.
I do feel a little more relaxed by the time I pull on a pair of shorts, but the moment my gaze lands on my bed, I feel all of my muscles go taut again. Penelope dragged the sheets that were stained with her virgin blood off the bed and tossed them in the trash. I wasn’t planning on keeping them as a fucked-up souvenir, but seeing my bed made with sheets that she hasn’t been naked in makes me feel irrationally angry.
My Princess and I aren’t a couple. Penelope Rhodes is a bitch. She treated her identical twin sister like shit for years, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that she would ignore me and act like I didn’t exist. What is a surprise is how much it’s bothering me.
“Thank you for the help.”
I can still hear her shouting that to me before she left.
“Thank you for the help.”
The more I think about her walking away without a second glance, the angrier I get. She asked me to help her. She asked me to fuck her and take her virginity, and then she thanked me for the fucking help and left, like I’d offered to lend her a pen, not given her multiple orgasms, and fucked her pussy using her virgin blood as lube.
When I think about Penelope Rhodes, heiress and villain, all I can envision is the way she hurt Izzy, how manipulative she is, how evil she must be to have treated her own flesh and blood that way. But when I think about my Princess, the nervous, scared girl I spent the morning with the other day, I can barely reconcile them as being the same person. Princess is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, she’s passionate and complex and so fucking broken. But the problem is that Penelope and Princess are the same person, and I don’t know how to accept that.
Slumping down onto the couch, I reach for the TV remote. I have a pile of homework I should be doing, but I can’t seem to find the motivation to even think about it. Instead, I find myself pulling out my cell and typing out another text to Penelope.
Me
I thought I made myself clear, when I ask you a question, I expect you to reply.
Staring at my cell, I try to will the dots to appear and for her to reply, but the screen stays the same and the ticks stay blank. Suddenly, the urge to hunt her ass down becomes so potent I almost rise from my seat before I remember that I don’t even know her well enough to know where to start to look for her.
The rational side of my brain knows that my anger is completely irrational, but I don’t care. She’s mine until I say she’s not, which means the rules I set for her are still in play, and she needs to know that.
When my cell beeps, I almost drop it as I fumble to bring the screen to life and see who’s texting me.
Princess
I’m just taking some time. I texted Izabella, she knows I’m okay.
I devour her words, but instead of consoling me, they only make me angrier.
Me
What the hell are you playing at ignoring her until now? She was worried.
Penelope
I already told you I spoke to her, she gets it.
My jaw clenches, and my fingers start typing a reply before I can even consider that I shouldn’t be doing it.
Me
Come to the boat, now. You’re mine until it’s over…and it’s not over yet.
Hitting send, I throw my cell across the couch, hating that even though I was telling her to do something, it feels like I’m the vulnerable one. Having her walk away so easily has definitely been a hit to my ego, and maybe that’s why I’m so determined to have her back under my control again. “Or maybe you just like her. Maybe you just see her as more than just the villain now,” my internal voice taunts me.
But what the hell do I do if that’s the truth? If she’s not just the villain, who is she? Is she meek and broken, or is she just an incredible actress, playing the role she needs in order to get what she wants? I have no fucking clue, but instead of putting me off, it just makes me want to break her down until I can see who she is at her core.
She doesn’t reply, and I’m not surprised. Once she puts on her unaffected front, she’s so fucking cold and disassociated that it’s like she truly does become a different person. The cruel, angry part of me wonders if she felt anything other than an ache between her legs after I took her virginity. Did what we shared affect her, or was I just a means to an end? But maybe her elusiveness and the fleeting glimpses of a different side of her are part of the reason that I want to control her so much. Either way, I’m probably a fucking fool for giving her even an ounce of power over me.
Frustrated and tense, I stomp across to the kitchen, throwing open the refrigerator door and cursing when I find it empty, except for the remains of last night’s takeout. I enjoy cooking, and I usually keep my kitchen stocked, but after everything that’s happened in the last few days, my mind has been too occupied with thoughts of my wayward Princess to worry about placing a grocery order.
Eyeing my cell like I can will her to reply through sheer angry determination, I quickly order dinner from a nice local restaurant, then grab a beer from the wet bar that’s built into the wall of the galley. For the first time in years, the emptiness of the boat seems to shrink around me, and I feel truly alone.
I have places I could be, friends I could spend time with rather than being here alone, but tonight when I’m feeling this raw and frustrated, I can’t be around my Princess’s twin.
By the time my food arrives, I’ve come to a decision. Tonight, I’ll give Penelope space, but tomorrow, my Princess either comes to me willingly or I hunt her down.