Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz
CHAPTER 18
Though dinner tonightwas enjoyable overall, there was still way more talk of wedding planning than I’m comfortable with, seeing as I’m supposed to have years before any nuptials occur.
The elevator ride up to the penthouse is silent and filled with a tension that makes my chest tight. I need to text Tessa to have her pick me up so I can get out of here and to my brother’s ASAP.
The elevator dings, announcing our arrival. Mitchell immediately excuses himself and disappears down the hall that leads to his home office. I don’t make it two feet toward the one that leads to my bedroom before Natalie is snagging my arm and pulling me to a stop. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing with that Noble boy, but it ends now, Samantha.”
I do my best to school my features, both out of indifference to the scratch of her nails as I yank myself free from her hold and because I don’t want to inadvertently give anything away before I figure out what exactly it is that she knows.
“What are you going on about, Natalie?” I live for the way she bristles every time I use her name instead of calling her Mom.
“I toldyou not to call me that.” See what I mean? “And I’m talking about this,” she hisses, stalking to close the distance I managed to put between us and thrusting her phone into my face.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to focus on the image lighting the screen. Once they do, Natalie’s thumb is swiping across it, revealing others of a similar nature.
Oh shitis my immediate response, following quickly by Who the hell took these?How did they take them? and finally Why are they only coming out now?
It’s been a few weeks, but I don’t remember anyone else being in the parking lot with us that day—though I can admit that might not be the best way to measure that statement’s accuracy since I didn’t realize Duke had left us. It’s entirely possible I wouldn’t have noticed someone joining us. Right?
Natalie flips back to the first picture, an image of Jasper kissing me against Duke’s Mercedes. Both our eyes are closed, lost in the chaos brewing between us with Jasper’s hand very clearly on my ass. I remember the way his fingers kneaded the muscle, tugging it until there was a delicious burn as he stretched it just past my limits.
The next is an image of Jasper tossing me inside the G Wagon, and thank Christ the tinting is too dark for whoever our mystery paparazzo is to have gotten a clear shot of what happened inside. Being the star of a sex tape is not a life achievement I need unlocked.
The last is Jasper caging me in against the school, our clothing obviously rumpled, my hair a tangled disaster I hadn’t yet tamed.
“What do you think people would think if they saw these?”
“I don’t care.”
“What do you think the Delacourtes will say when they see their son’s fiancée kissing someone who isn’t their son?”
“As an elected official, I’m hoping our fair governor isn’t homophobic and it wouldn’t be ‘At least she’s not kissing a girl.’” I lift a hand to my mouth as if to say Oh, the scandal. “I mean, how Katy Perry, am I right?”
“This is not the time for jokes, young lady,” Natalie snaps, her expression turning thunderous when I snort at her calling me young lady.
“As always, Natalie, you’re treating your life like it’s a telenovela.” I shake my head. “And you tried calling Tessa the dramatic one.”
I’m too busy wiping the tear my laughter brought on from my lash line to see the slap before it lands on my face. Fire blooms in my cheek, and the sting radiating from the center makes me suspect the bands of her wedding rings caught me just so.
“Don’t test me, Samantha.” Natalie moves until the space between us is eliminated, and I’m forced to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact thanks to the spiked heels she’s wearing. “I’m not playing games with you.”
I cup my cheek, hoping to soothe the worst of the pain. Damn, the woman knows how to slap. “When have you not played games?” I can’t help but challenge her.
A sinister smile curls her scarlet lips. “Did you think I was playing when I threatened to have your brother arrested?”
My throat goes dry, the breath stilling in my lungs as panic strangles me, my body going cold. I see the moment Natalie realizes her threat hit its intended target, victory sparking in her devil eyes.
“That’s what I thought,” she coos. “There are any number of illegal activities I can turn him in for. I have the evidence.”
The same evidence she’s claimed to have that I’ve failed to find during the limited time I’ve spent in the penthouse. Maybe I should hang around here this weekend to look for it.
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” Her devil-hidden-behind-an-angel’s-mask face dares me to deny the claim. “I saw the way he stormed out of the room tonight.” She snatches my left hand up, bending my fingers down to show off my new bling. “Despite what your childish mind may think”—she shakes my hand in front of my face—“this is very much real.”
“Oh-okay.”
“I’ve worked too hard to set this all up to let you ruin things for me.” She pinches my chin, the claws she calls nails digging into my skin, and I swallow down a wince. “If you think I’m going to let you go running around, allowing pictures to be taken of you in compromising positions with men who aren’t your betrothed—”
Oh god, the urge to laugh is so not appropriate right now, but it’s a struggle not to give in to it. I know we’ve made all sorts of betrothal jokes—more because if we hadn’t laughed about it, I may have cried—but the way Natalie uses it is so serious. At least I can appreciate the moment of levity in the situation.
“—you better think long and hard before you go slutting around like a common whore.”
Love you too, Mom.
If only she knew what she saw is the least “compromised” I’ve been with Jasper and that those pictures aren’t even from the most recent event.
“Because if you embarrass me in any way, Samantha…” The threat looms heavy like a storm cloud. “I promise you it won’t just be your brother I go after.”
Goose bumps cover my skin, each word digging deep into my soul.
She releases her hold on me, strutting over to the bar and gathering the makings for a martini.
I watch as she scoops in the ice, pours out the appropriate amount of vermouth and gin, caps the shaker, and shakes. I dig the heel of my hand into my breastbone, a cough escaping despite how much I concentrate on breathing through it, and dig out my inhaler.
Once the martini is served and garnished with a metal skewer of three olives, Natalie spins to face me, leaning against the bar and balancing the delicate crystal on her fingertips.
“If you go against me in this, I’ll bring down all of your precious Royals.”