Page 40

CHAPTER 14

LIZZIE

“ G irl, did you hear what happened to Professor Hands today?”

Jane came bursting into our flat. Tossing her backpack on the counter, she bounded over to me and bounced down onto the sofa.

“It was epic! Apparently, some rich bloke showed up and dismissed the class. Everyone’s saying there was a big fight and Hands just announced he’s leaving the school effective immediately.”

Curled up under my faded yellow blanket with the blue butterflies, I buried my head in my knees.

“What is wrong with you? This is good news. You won’t have to spend half the year dodging his grabby hands like I did last year. You’re lucky.”

Jane walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the open bottle of cheap white wine we had inside the fridge. Opening the cupboard, she called over her shoulder, “You want some?”

“Yes,” came my muffled reply.

Selecting two mugs—we didn’t have the money for wineglasses—she came back to the sofa.

After taking a long, cool gulp of the acidic liquid, I blurted out, “It was Richard.”

“What?”

“Richard. It was Richard.”

“Who was Richard?”

“The rich bloke who burst into Handleson’s class today.”

Her eyes widened as she hopped up and then sat back down cross-legged across from me.

“Tell me everything!”

Since I was ushered out the door before the real altercation, I couldn’t tell her much—besides the fact that Richard showed up unexpectedly and was absolutely livid to see my teacher’s hand practically on my ass.

“I heard there was shattered glass everywhere.”

I nodded. “I did hear the sound of breaking glass as I was leaving but I don’t think it was that big of a fight.”

Richard hadn’t looked a bit disheveled when he came out of the school and I had gotten a chance to notice that his knuckles weren’t even bruised or bloodied as I looked down to see him holding my phone.

“It makes sense. Richard is like twice the size of Hands. He’d probably have hospitalized him if there had been a real fight. Do you think he forced Hands to leave the school?”

I nodded glumly. “He wants me to leave too.”

“Wait… what?”

I shrugged in response as I finished my mug of wine and reached for more.

“You can’t be serious. He didn’t seriously ask you to leave school?”

Refusing to relive the details of my humiliation with Jane, I grimaced. “Let’s just say he made his point very clear.”

I shifted in my seat. My ass was still sore, as well as my pride. The man had spanked me. Spanked me . And not the fun and kinky spanking from the other night, but a real honest to God spanking. My cheeks burned with the memory of it. To be dragged across his powerful lap like an errant child, as he spanked me after making me say I was a bad girl.

Traitorously, I felt a rush of warmth between my thighs. This was insane. How could I possibly find any of this attractive or arousing? It was abuse. Pure and simple. Fuck his little games. I was done.

Jane reached for the distinctive sage green jewelry box laying discarded on the coffee table; inside was an exquisite brooch by Van Cleef & Arpels.

Opening the box, she exclaimed as she carefully lifted the high jewelry pin from where it was nestled in black silk.

It really was a masterpiece. I knew from being an avid Vogue and Bazaar reader since I was a teenager that Van Cleef & Arpels were known for a unique jewelry style called the Mystery set, where they set countless emeralds, sapphires and rubies without any visible prongs. I watched as Jane admired the piece, twisting it in the light. It was the size of my palm. A gorgeous cobalt blue and purple bird with a diamond-encrusted plume.

“Holy shit, Lizzie.”

“I know!”

“ Holy shit , Lizzie!”

“I know!”

“He gave this to you?”

I shook my head as I wrapped the blanket more securely over my shoulders. “I found it in my messenger bag. He must have slipped it in there.”

That wasn’t the only thing he slipped in.

The shock still hadn’t worn off. Had I really come after having someone shove a finger up my ass? This was all too much. At first it was fun thinking of myself as this femme fatale on par with the international coquettes he probably dated. I embraced his games and allowed myself to drift way way way out of my comfort zone with his sexual exploits, but now I couldn’t help feeling as though I was in way way way over my head.

He was too much. Too intense. Too controlling. Too toxic.

Reaching for the wine, I took another gulp. It was stale with a harsh aftertaste but I didn’t care. I needed to numb myself. Needed to bring things back to zero after so many overwhelming emotions with Richard.

The man made me feel like the most beautiful, treasured woman in the world one minute and like a whore the next. He was driving me crazy. I didn’t know my own mind… but worse, I no longer knew my own body.

“I need to break it off with him,” I blurted out.

“Are you insane? You don’t break it off with a man who gives you bespoke jewelry!”

“You don’t understand. He’s starting to scare me a bit.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. He’s like really into me. He’s becoming very possessive and overprotective.”

Jane threw a hand to her forehead and fell back dramatically. “Oh, cruel world! Please save me from this super rich man who is obsessed with me! Oh, cruel fate!”

Reaching for a blue throw pillow, I tossed it at her as I couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop it. It’s not like that.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little judge-y? You’ve only been on a couple dates, and besides, you probably misunderstood what he said about school. He probably wanted you to drop Handleson’s class, not out of school.”

Biting my lip, I stared at the brooch on the table. Had I overreacted?

“Besides, it’s not exactly a stretch to think a guy wouldn’t want his girlfriend stuck in a class with a professor who likes to play grab ass.”

I had to admit she made a good point. Still, Richard wasn’t one to mince words. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he actually expected me to drop out of school.

Jane rose and headed back into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she dipped down and inspected the contents. “We have an unopened bottle of margarita mix or two pints of Guinness.”

Jumping up, I met her in the kitchen and pulled a bottle of tequila out from under the sink. “Margaritas, definitely.”

Since we didn’t have a blender, we had to make do with dumping out some of the mix and filling the bottle back up to the top with tequila and giving it a good shake. Pouring two fresh mugs full, we returned to the sofa.

“Don’t let me get too drunk. I have a shift at the pub later and then I’m staying over at Greg’s.”

Picking up the brooch, I held it up to the light. As I did, I could hear Coco and Dior chirping from inside my bedroom. It was funny how he seemed to know I liked birds. I couldn’t remember ever telling him. Probably not. It probably had more to do with his nickname for me, his little bird.

The citrus sour of the margarita caused my mouth to pucker as I took another sip. “Let’s change the subject.”

I didn’t want to talk or think about Richard right now. I needed distance. Time to figure out what my true feelings were without having to try to think it through while my body still hummed from his touch.

It was enthralling really. How he seemed to have this dark energy about him. A dark romanticism. It pulled me in, entranced me. There was just something about him that made me desperately want to ignore all the warning flags and just close my eyes and jump. The question was, would he be there to catch me or would I just keep falling deep into an abyss?

“In all the excitement, I almost forgot. Look what I found!” Jane dragged her backpack closer and pulled a wrinkled piece of blue copy paper from the front pocket. Handing it to me, she poured us both more margarita.

Looking down, I saw it was a flyer announcing auditions for a play.

“They are hoping to put it on at the Barbican if they get a big enough producer interested.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Looking the flyer over, the first thing I noticed was the phrase, “A Victorian Play.”

“It’s a period piece?” My interest was growing. To be honest, my primary goal as an actress was to act in period pieces. My dream job would be on mini-series on the BBC like Downtown Abbey or a remake of Pride and Prejudice . I could just imagine the sets and beautiful dresses. It would almost be like going back to live in the era, which of course was impossible but still a girl could dream.

Grabbing the flyer from my hand, Jane read, “ The Lady Protests , a Victorian wife suspects her new husband is trying to poison her for her fortune.” Jane nodded. “Classic. What do you think? Should we audition? I bet you’d be great for the parlor maid.”

“You really think I could get the part of the parlor maid?” I asked, intrigued.

Jane nodded. “You’re a certainty. You have that natural untouched beauty they like for these things. I’m going for the lead. Do you think I should cover my short hair with a wig for the audition?”

For the next hour or so, thoughts of Richard receded as we chatted about auditioning and whether we would need a monologue or if they would have us read from the play. It actually felt good to give my heated mind something else to focus on but inevitably thoughts of him crept back in.

At least now I had a slight buzz from the tequila and cheap wine, which took the sting out of all my confusing and conflicting emotions.

As Jane rose to get ready for work, it occurred to me. “I don’t know why I’m even talking about this. If Richard doesn’t like me going to school, I doubt he’ll like me auditioning for a play.”

Cocking her head to the side, she slid out of her yoga pants and put on a pair of jeans. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair? You haven’t even talked to him about it yet.”

Gesturing with my hand, I exclaimed, “Yes! See! Don’t you think that makes my point? I barely know this guy and yet somehow I’m supposed to get his permission before I audition for a play or for what classes I take or what school I go to?”

Tossing on a pair of trainers, Jane laced them up before responding. “If you feel that strongly about it then break up with him. All I’m saying is most girls would kill for a man to show that much interest in their lives. I gotta go. Remember I’m at Greg’s tonight.” With a wave over her shoulder she was out the door.

Barely acknowledging her, I hugged my now warm mug of margarita mix and tequila to my chest.

A loud burst of thunder shattered the tense quiet of the living room. Looking over my shoulder, out through our bay windows, the spire from Saint George’s stood straight and tall like a dark sentinel. The church was mostly shrouded in a gray mist as sheets of rain began to fall. It was a gloomy visage that perfectly matched my gloomy mood.

On impulse, I grabbed my mobile and texted.

I’m sorry, Richard, but I can’t see you anymore.

I was a coward. I knew he rarely looked at his phone and so he probably wouldn’t see this text message for hours if not days. Still I stared at the open text screen, desperately waiting to see those three little dots that would indicate he had seen my text and was responding.

There was an ominous clap of thunder as my phone screen went black.