Bluestone Elites (A Paranormal Bully Academy Romance) Page 7

  But tonight, we only bump into half-breeds, and they’re all sneaking their way to the conservatory.

  First order of business is to grab myself some punch before it’s spiked. Still, I might be too late already. I fill a cup to the brim, then sip from it, looking over the rim at the bustling conservatory. I don’t see any other elites in the clumps of half-breeds scattered around.

  Courtney steers us over to a table where a game of beer pong is happening. I watch for a while, but the game bores me. Not much of a beer lover. I wander over to a window-wall and look out at the mountains. They are never more beautiful than from this glass room.

  A reflection is caught in the light and I squint at its familiar round face. Serena, an elite snake, comes up behind me. I shoot her a wary glance as she stops at my side, then perches herself on the edge of a wood table.

  “Hi.” She runs her delicate fingertip around the rim of her cup. “I heard about the closet incident. Hope you are ok.”

  My voice is cool. “Well, I know you’re not really interested in how I am, so why not save us the time and tell me what you really want?”

  A gentle sigh brushes out from her, and she looks out at the alps. Her legs cross at the ankles. “You won’t tell anyone I was here, will you?”

  I scoff. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. The snakes can’t know she is at a half-breed party in case it gets back to her parents, maybe the most bigoted of our kind. Mind, my parents wouldn’t be too happy either to know that I partied with half-breeds. They’re not big on my friendship with Courtney, but they put up with it—exclusively partying with just half-breeds though? Not a chance.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” I say.

  Relief slumps her shoulders and she nods. After a moment, she asks. “Are you looking forward to the Debutante Ball this winter? I heard it’s taking place in the South of France.”

  “It is.” I nod. It’s my family’s château that hosts it this year. “And not really, no.”

  “I must admit I feel the same.” Her confession surprises me and I arch my brow at her. She explains, “It all starts to become rather tedious, don’t you think? I can hardly tell the events apart anymore. It’s always the same, just with different scenery.”

  I find myself nodding. I never thought we would agree on much, let alone our entire social obligations.

  Her distant gaze is fixed on the alps. “We dance, we drink, we listen to our parents discuss us like we are little more than objects to be traded off, and all the while we—the women—are expected to be pretty and silent.”

  She’s not wrong, and she turns her attention to the half-breeds all around us. “They don’t know what they have,” she murmurs, as if thinking aloud. “They don’t know how blessed they are.”

  Understanding slackens my face. The half-breeds have what we will never have among our lavish lifestyles and status, they have what I’ve been pining over for most of my life. Freedom. Right now, our fathers are in control of everything we do. And once we’re married, that control doesn’t loosen, it only transfers. To girls like us, freedom doesn’t exist. It’s just an unattainable dream. An illusion that will never become our realities.

  After the party, I sneak into Eric’s chambers at the back of his office. He’s fast asleep as I slip into the bed with him.

  In the morning, we have lazy sex. It’s nice, but I still can’t enjoy it the way I want to.

  He’s grading papers in the bed, alternating between his cup of coffee and a fat, red pen. I sprawl out beside him and use the nail polish I left behind one night to paint my nails. As I blow on them to dry them quicker, I shift around on the bed and place my foot on the parchment stained with pink paint.

  “Here,” I say and wiggle my toes. “A little help?”

  Eric keeps his gaze on the assignments. A frown pinches his brow. “Can’t you get a pedicure?”

  “Last time I checked, there wasn’t a beauty salon hidden away in the mountains.”

  He scratches the pen over thick paper. “I’m busy.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes and grab the bottle. Carefully, I start painting my toenails. “Have you RSVP’d?”

  His sigh speaks of weariness. “Sorry?”

  “To the Debutante Ball.” I cut a glare at him. He’s so irritable this morning. “Did you respond to the invite?”

  “Yes.” His focus is back on his work. “I’ll be late, though.”

  “Late? Why?”

  “I have a prior commitment that night that I need to attend.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “What kind of commitment?”

  “A stag party.”

  I make a face. Last thing I want is him running about with a bunch of drunken guys, then showing up late to my ball. And it is my ball as much as it’s any debutantes.

  “You didn’t tell me about that,” I say and watch him from beneath my lashes.

  “I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

  “Not the same as telling me before,” I murmur.

  He sighs and looks up, finally, from the papers. “Is there an issue, Olivia?”

  I shrug. “What time will you get to the ball? You have to arrive before the courting dances start.”

  I need him to be my partner. It’s planned out in my mind to the last detail. That dance shared together will be the announcement of our courtship.

  “Ten o’clock at the latest,” he tells me. “Not any later than that.”

  Relief unwinds the tension in my shoulders, but not all the way. A pool of dread is starting to open up in me, like a chasm, yawning. Ten o’clock is before the courtship dances, but it’s cutting it close. Not to mention, I won’t have as much time with him to shove my relationship in my father’s face so he has little choice but to agree to the marriage.

  “So, what are you doing over the Christmas break?” I ask, and screw the lid back on the bottle. I set the bottle aside.

  “The usual. We have parties every Christmas Eve. On Boxing Day, I go to Carlin’s. It’s sort of a tradition, I suppose.”

  Carlin was a senior last year with Eric. I remember him for his dyed cobalt hair and half-breed status.

  “What do you do there? Who goes?”

  “All the old group,” he says, pen scribbling on paper. “We usually just play some football and drink.”

  My mouth sets into a flat line. “The old group, huh? Isn’t your ex in that group?”

  He looks at me over the paper, his eyes narrowed and tired. “Anne,” he says. “Yes, she’ll be there.”

  My smile is forced. “You’re still friends, then. That’s nice.”

  He shakes his head at my blatant lie and returns to his papers. “I have to get some work done, Olivia. Don’t you have homework to do before the break starts?”

  I make a face at him then scoot off the bed. I know when I’ve been booted out.

  Chapter 13

  The Christmas break snuck up on me out of nowhere.

  One minute, I was writing up the last of my assignments, the next I was on the train from the Alps back to the airport, then stepping out with dozens of others at Stonehenge. It takes you where you want to go.

  I spot mother in the crowd. Waving my hand above my head, I shove my way over to her.

  Father is beside her, wearing a small smile on his lips. My face falls into a scowl at the sight of him. Weeks, and he still hasn’t responded to my letter about Dray and the engagement. He hopes silence will buy enough time to secure the union. But I’m not the silent kind, not when it comes to my future. So, I run to mother and slam into her embrace.

  “Olivia,” mother’s familiar, soft-spoken voice wraps around me like a hug of its own. “I’ve missed you dearly.”

  I mumble a similar sentiment back to her. My face stays buried in the crook of her neck. It’s in moments like these that I never want to leave my parents. Moments when they’re not monopolising every aspect of my life.

  I squirm out of mother’s arms.

  “Where is your luggage?�
�� she asks and grooms some muffin crumbs from my curls.

  I snub father. “Brad is bringing it.” I throw a look over my shoulder at Brad and Dray winding through the crowd. They’re headed right for us, so it’s no surprise that the Sinclair’s join us, but still, I tense at the sound of Amelia Sinclair’s smooth voice, like hot glass—

  “Olivia, dear, so good to see you.”

  I turn and throw a practiced smile their way. “Lord and Lady Sinclair,” I say with a curtesy.

  Dray brushes by me. I don’t watch as he greets his parents. Instead, I watch as Brad is fussed over. When mother finishes planting chaste kisses on his cheeks, she claps her hands together. “Come now, there’s much to do, and very little time.”

  My shoulders slump. I resist a groan.

  Not always, but sometimes on the first night of the Christmas break, we all dine together. I was hoping tonight was a ‘not always’ night, but there’s no other reason mother would be rushing us around the knitted groups of people. Great. Is it too much to ask for a little separation from the Sinclair’s? Apparently, it is. I have only two hours to get home, bathe, then dress for the carriage ride to the Sinclair Manor. We take cars from their place to the restaurant.

  Dray, for the sake of image and rules, offers me his hand as I climb out of the car. I ache to smack him away from me, but our parents are too close, and it’s too public.

  His hand practically burns against mine. He shifts it to flatten on the small of my back as he escorts me to the upstairs table. Brad leads the way, behind our parents. As Dray pulls out my seat, I don’t miss the odd, disapproving glance Issac Sinclair throws our way. As if to soothe him, Amelia rests her hand on his. They stay silent and watch as Dray takes his own seat opposite me. The Sinclair’s have never been all that fond of my no-power status, but they’ve never been outrightly horrible to me about it. Even just a dark glance from Issac is startling. I get the feeling they aren’t fully behind this engagement. Hope buds inside my chest. Maybe they will talk Dray out of it before the engagement can be official.

  Father orders for me. I haven’t eaten since the muffin in the gondola ride at Bluestone, I’m starved. Bile is starting to creep up my throat. But father orders caviar for me.

  I make a face. It’s not a favourite food. Just means I’ll gorge myself when I get home. That’s where I want to be, not sitting around a cold, marble table with elites.

  “I do hope they are quick,” Amelia sighs. “I’m famished.”

  I nod, but throw a dark look at my father. “I’m not sure caviar will do much to fill me.”

  Father quirks his brow at my dig.

  “Olivia,” mother scolds, “Mind your manners, dear.”

  Amelia steers the conversation. “How have you been?” she asks, looking at me. “As I understand, your time at Bluestone has been strenuous.”

  I cut a glare at Dray who is watching me coolly. “I was locked in a closet,” I tell her. Though she already knows. I can’t cast a great guess at who her source is, but she knows enough of my Bluestone years.

  The waiters sweep over to us, balancing plates and trays, and set them down in front of us.

  Amelia lifts her fork from the table. “Who would want to do such a thing to a sweet girl like yourself,” she says, but it’s not a question, not in inflection or meaning. She’s just filling empty space with small talk.

  I can’t help myself. “My thoughts exactly. But I guess it can’t be helped when the attacker is a depraved beast.”

  My smirk lands on Dray. His eyes are hardened, like stones, but they wear no sinister gleam. He looks as though he’s just observing me, considering me. I hope he’s contemplating his offer on my contract, what with his parents’ subtle disapproval. It might just be enough for him to revoke his offer, and leave me free to marry Eric.

  Mother cuts in as she picks at her meal. “Did you hear about the Greens?”

  Amelia’s gossip-loving face lights up. “Yes, Edward is beside himself.”

  Fork hovering near my mouth, I ask, “What happened?”

  Amelia rests her chin on her fist. “Melody Green’s engagement was nulled.”

  “I didn't know she was engaged,” I say before I scarf down a mouthful of caviar. The taste isn’t all that great, so I don’t savour it.

  “Our engagement was private,” Dray says, surprising me. I stare at him. “And very short,” he adds. “I sought the dissolution of our agreement before contracts were signed.”

  “Still, it is an inconvenience for Edward,” Issac says. “Last minute annulments are not proper, especially not when the matters haven’t been thoroughly ... discussed.”

  My smile is small, strained. It’s obvious what Issac is really saying—it’s not proper to leave an engagement for another with a deadblood. And he’s right. But Dray doesn’t seem all that affected.

  “I’m sure it’s not too late,” I say, looking at Dray from beneath my lashes, as deadly a stare as I can rummage up. “You and Melody are good together. Perfect match.”

  My snide smile doesn’t go unnoticed. Dray just arches his brow at me as his mother dives into the latest gossip. If our parents weren’t here, I would throw my drink in his stoic face.

  Before today, I had no idea he was loosely engaged to Melody Green. They’re both just so awful, I couldn’t think up another match as fitting as those two cruel elites.

  I tune in and out of the gossip snaking around the table, fighting travel exhaustion. One of the reasons I dread dinners so soon after the school semester ends. I’m so fucking tired. Too tired to put up with rumours and contract talk. Too tired to hide my disdain for Dray. Thankfully, as we leave for the South of France tomorrow morning, dinner isn’t dragged on too late.

  Sleep comes to me easy that night. Servants pack for me. After breakfast, we meet the Sinclair’s at Stonehenge for the airport to Nice, then take car rides to our chateau buried in the vineyards.

  I go straight to my room for a long, hot bath.

  Everyone else is taking walks through the vineyards, or just arriving, but I’m tuckered.

  It’s hard not to fall asleep in the bath. Bubbles tickle my chin and piano music sings out from the radio that is balanced on the edge of the sink.

  Only a few days to go before I have the rest of the break to myself, obligation-free. Once the ball is over, my first order of business will be a lone spa day. Just me, the sounds of nature, and a masseuse. Pedicures, manicures, face masks, skin treatments, the lot! Might as well enjoy them while I can. If—when—Eric and I tie the knot, I won’t have those luxuries at my fingertips. We won’t have the wealth to support my habits, even with my dowry. Best make the most of it while I can.

  Once I’m sure everyone has left the vineyard to retire for the mid-afternoon rest, I head to the vineyard. I like to walk them in the winter. They look especially beautiful in the frost.

  Standing on the deck, I hug my arms around my winter coat and look out at the withering grapevines. All of the guests will have arrived by now. Elites will be swarming the chateau after the rest is over, and I’ll be forced to be some false version of myself. I really hate these gigs.

  As I wander to the nearest packed-dirt path a shadow emerges from another. Serena pauses as she spots me. We have an awkward moment of deciding between ignoring and talking to each other.

  She decides before I do. She approaches me.

  “Hi,” she starts. “You are going for a stroll? Mind if I join you?”

  I shrug lazily. “If you want to. Someone might see, though.”

  Her smile is wicked. “Likely, but I find I do not care.”

  “Suddenly a rebel?” I start down the path.

  Serena’s wicked smile is still glued to her lips, but it turns bitter. “Hardly. It seems there has come a time when I must reevaluate my company.”

  I arch my brow at her. “Your company?”

  “I have decided that, as I will be wed to a man I don’t love, I may as well surround myself with others that at lea
st bring me some joy.”

  I nudge her arm. “Are you declaring your love for me in favour of my brother?”

  Brad is her fiancé. There’s no ill feelings between us because she doesn’t love Brad. He’s my brother, and I can barely stand him.

  We walk further into the vineyard. It’s less awkward than it was before. Now, it’s almost like we have slipped back into our old friendship, before Bluestone, before the snakes turned on me.

  Still, I know snakes because I was meant to be one, and they don’t do anything that doesn’t slot in with their own personal agendas.

  “Brad isn’t so bad,” I say because it’s the truth. He could be a whole lot worse.

  “I know. I’m fortunate enough to be betrothed to a gentleman, but there is still one issue.”

  I shoot her a side-glance. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t love him,” she says with a graceful shrug.

  “It’s not something we really get,” I say. “Love isn’t for people like us. The best we can hope for is a husband who respects us, someone we can at least be friends with.”

  Someone like Eric.

  “Friendship,” she echoes with a small smile. “It’s a poor substitute for what marriage should be.”

  I frown. How can I agree? It’s the very reason I’ve pursued Eric to strongly. Friendship is better than a hateful marriage built on pain and lies and distrust.

  Serena asks, “Has your contract been secured yet?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. At least, not officially. I hope it will be by the end of the Christmas break.”

  “Any reason for such a slight time frame?”

  “The suitor I want my father to accept has a ... competitor. The quicker my father accepts the man I want, the better.”

  “The man?” She smirks at me. “How cryptic.”

  I shrug. “It’s a secret.”

  I can’t have information getting out more than it already has. Nothing can jeopardise my plans for the Debutante Ball. I have enough to worry about with Dray.

  “Don’t you grow weary of it all?” Serena’s tone has lowered, into something soft and hollow. “The secrets, the lies, the offers, the rejections. Even poor Melody has had her contract renewed. Dray pulled out just weeks before the Ball. Such short notice.”