Crown of Thorns by E.M. Snow
12
The next morning,I wake up in a giant room that is unbelievably mine—at least for the next three months. Sitting upright in the king-sized bed, I grasp the plush white comforter and drink in my surroundings. It takes a moment to reacquaint myself with my new existence because, Jesus Christ, this whole situation is insane.
Swiping my phone from the nightstand, I shoot off another text to Jasper.
6:41 AM:Where are you? What the hell were you thinking? I’m at the Townsends. Please Jasper. I need you to explain all this to me.
I wait a few minutes to see if he sends any kind of response. He doesn’t, which shouldn’t hurt me so much at this point, but my chest is tight and cold, despite my own attempts to reason with myself. Chucking my phone to the side, I drop my head into my hands and exhale. None of this feels real.
It’s all too crazy to be real.
After I got into Phoenix car yesterday afternoon, he drove me to my grandma’s house to pick up my things. It took me all of thirty minutes to pack what I needed, which was oddly humiliating. At school, everyone knows I’m not wealthy, but I could at least hide the fact behind the uniform we’re all required to wear. Having Phoenix and Gideon Townsend waiting outside my house while I gathered my few necessary belongings made the difference in our classes so much starker.
“That it?” Phoenix had asked, staring down his aristocratic nose at my two duffel bags once I came outside.
“Yes,” I gritted out.
He’d chuckled as I squeezed into the outrageously cramped backseat of his outrageously expensive car. “It’s a tight fit,” he’d drawled, earning a dark look from Gideon.
My knees ache just thinking about the backseat of that stupid car.
The ride to their mansion in Bel Air was silent. Phoenix didn’t continue to mock me, which was surprising, and Gideon didn’t say a word either. Still, a heavy tension hung in the air that kept me on edge and waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. It was bound to, right? The moment I agreed to such a terrible arrangement I had sealed my terrible, cruel fate. When we arrived at the house, Phoenix still didn’t say anything to me as he led me up to the second floor to show me my room.
My initial shock was obvious, and the only thing I was able to murmur was, “There’s a chandelier in here.”
“I realized you’d need something shiny to keep your attention off the rest of my mother’s jewelry,” he’d taunted, seemingly unable to resist getting a jab in. My breath had stalled when he grasped my chin and tilted my face up to his. “What did you think? That we’d put you in the dungeons? Chain you to the walls? Make you live in a cage? While those options were definitely … enticing, Gideon vetoed them. You can thank him later, Luna.”
I’d ripped away from him, ignoring the tingles that burst beneath my skin from his touch as I explored the room. High ceilings, enormous ivory furniture, a sitting area in front of a large marble fireplace—the space felt as though it belonged in a fairy tale.
I think, in that moment, I truly understood the term gilded cage.
Phoenix had disappeared after that to God knows where. Not that I cared. Still, apart from my room, I hadn’t known where anything else in the house was and had no idea how I was going to find my way around. As if he’d known his brother would abandon me, Gideon had shown up at my door shortly after Phoenix left.
“Figured he wouldn’t stick around,” he’d admitted with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t looked me in the eye, and I prayed he felt like shit for what they were forcing me to do. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
“Really?”I’d asked, surprised. “Why?”
He had given me this incredulous stare and answered, “Are you planning on never leaving your room? Despite what Phoenix would probably like you to believe, you aren’t a prisoner. Just a ... somewhat coerced guest.”
That’s one way to put it, I supposed. Regardless, I accepted his invitation and he’d shown me around most of the house. There were three floors in all, with crazy amenities on each. An indoor pool and sauna, an executive kitchen, dining room, and living room on the first floor. A massive library, the office, and bedrooms on my floor. More bedrooms, a movie theater room, and even a state-of-the-art music room on the third floor.
And that’s only the interior. We barely skimmed the grounds. Gideon just had us stand on the back terrace as he pointed out the basketball and tennis courts, gardens and two guest cottages, and the citrus groves off toward the back of the property near the greenhouse.
It was all so much. I’d been overwhelmed, more so than when I got my first glimpse of this place. When Gideon casually let it slip out that Reina is a habitual couch-surfer and rarely ever came home, I’d kept to myself the rest of the night and stayed in my room. Dinner was brought to me, but I hadn’t really touched it. My appetite was pretty much nonexistent. Since I stayed locked away, I didn’t see Alaric either, which I was happy about.
In the words of Reina, that guy could go suck a bag of dicks.
Lifting my head, I give myself a mental shake to throw my convoluted thoughts away. I need to get up and get ready for school. Thinking of it, of course, is an all-new source of panic. I haven’t even really considered how terrible school is going to be now. Yesterday was just a teaser of what’s to come, I’m afraid.
Groaning, I throw the covers aside and slip out of the bed. The plush sheepskin area rug is soft and warm beneath my bare feet as I pad into the cavernous bathroom. With a yelp, I realize the tiled floor is heated, completely eliminating that initial morning chill I always get right after climbing out of bed.
The walk-in shower has a rainfall showerhead and seemingly unlimited hot water. I could stand in the warm spray all day, but I force myself to scrub and wash my hair quickly, not wanting to be late and give people more reason to gossip.
Once I’m out of the shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair, brushing it into a low ponytail. I get dressed in record time, then grab my bookbag and make my way out into the hallway. Pausing, I gaze around, trying to remember which way Gideon showed me was the quickest way to the kitchen. Turning to my right, I tentatively walk down the hall toward the main staircase.
There’s no sign of anyone around, which is more than a little creepy.
How can such an enormous house be so empty?
Almost the second my feet touch the foyer, a voice barks out, “Fuck, what took you so long? Move your ass, we’re going to be late.”
Startled, I spin around to find Phoenix striding toward me from the hallway leading to the back of the house. His blazer is tucked in the crook of his elbow and he’s knotting his striped uniform tie.
“Late? We’re not going to be—”
He grabs my arm when he reaches me and propels me toward the door. “I have a makeup test this morning. You know, since I was out Friday dealing with your bullshit.”
I try to escape him, but I fail. Go figure. Gritting my teeth, I point out, “Nobody forced you to deal with me. I mean, you could have just left everything to your father and—"
“You talk too fucking much.” He doesn’t bother to explain further and instead drags me outside and down the front steps toward his car. I realize too late that Gideon isn’t coming with us.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I am so not okay with this. “Where’s Gideon?”
“Do I look like his keeper?” he demands, and I blink. My momentary reluctance doesn’t appear to please him one bit. He moves closer, his minty breath fanning my face. “Get the fuck in the car. Don’t make me say it again.”
His tone is legitimately scary, and I can’t be sure he won’t do something really terrible to get me to do as he says. Not really interested in finding out what lines he’s willing to cross to get his way, I begrudgingly slip into the Aston Martin. He slams the door shut, making me jump, and then storms around to the driver’s side. The car roars to life and he speeds down the driveway.
I expect it to be another silent ride, but Phoenix surprises me when he starts talking almost immediately. “We need to establish some rules that you’ll need to obey while you’re our ... guest.”
“Don’t worry, I already lock my door.
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “As if a goddamn lock can keep me out when I want in,” and I squirm in my seat. For some reason, I don’t doubt him. Not one little bit.
Closing my fingers around my charm bracelet like it’s a security blanket, I rasp, “Okay … rules? What kind of rules?”
“You will ride to and from school every day with Gideon or me unless I say otherwise.”
“What about Alaric?” After all, he had no problem sending his cousin to fetch me yesterday. “Or Reina?”
“Reina’s never here because she thinks I’m the devil or some shit. Aric would rather amputate his own dick than fuck around with you.” Okay, that burns, especially considering what had happened between us this summer. “You won’t leave the house without permission and someone to keep an eye on you. You won’t poke your nose into our personal lives. You won’t question me, and you will obey everything I tell you.”
“Wow, Phoenix,” I say on a noisy breath. “What else? Do I have to refer to you as sir whenever you’re around? Call you Mr. Townsend since your loving father doesn’t seem to be in the picture?”
Cruelty twists his lips. “Not a bad idea. Add it to the list.”
“You’re a terrible person.” I turn my head sharply to stare out the window, but his next words force my attention back to him.
“And you’re mine, remember that. Oh, and Luna, there’s one more rule.” His tone is strained; the smirk gone. “It’s the most important one of all.”
“Let me guess, don’t go in the west wing?”
When he says nothing, I study his profile. His jaw is taut, and it feels like he’s barely holding something back. I can’t really tell what, though. Anger? Frustration? Dare I hope it’s regret? Doubtful. A person has to have compassion and empathy to feel regret, and I don’t think he’s capable of either.
“Well, what is it?” It’s barely a whisper.
“You can’t tell anyone the real reason we’re … associating with each other.” His voice is like granite, and his fingers flex around the steering wheel. “Not Aric. Not Reina. Not even your little slut friend, though I understand you two probably have some welfare code of ethics. If she asks, you tell her you’re cleaning house for us after school. Nothing more, do you understand?”
Anger and disgust, two emotions I’m becoming intimately acquainted with, scorch through me. First, he lays rules on me like I’m some child he has to keep in line, then he insults Margaret. If I was less scared of him, I’d punch him right in his nuts and risk the potential car crash.
“How the hell do you expect me to keep the truth from Reina and Alaric if we’re living in the same house?” I breathe instead. “And what exactly did Jasper take from you anyway? What’s so important that you’re going this far to get it back?”
After all, Jasper’s already wanted for questioning by the police. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to turn him in?
Phoenix doesn’t look at me as he replies, “The only thing that matters is that it’s returned. As far as my cousins go, they think your grandma used to work for us.”
“And that explains me living with you, how?”
“Your grandma worked for us, now she’s sick and you’re living in the house.” He goes out of his way to exaggerate every word, like he’s explaining something to a small child. “It’s called charity, Luna. My mom loves that type of shit and pet projects like you.”
Pet. Projects.
Well, fuck Phoenix, and his mom.
“So, where is your mom?” I ask. “When do I get to speak to her or your dad?”
I’ve seen pictures of them around the house and overheard some of the maids talking in hushed tones about “Mr. Royce and Ms. Sabrina.” Everything they say is surprisingly … pleasant. Except, of course, the fact that the entire staff is wondering when they’ll return from their business trip.
“Where are they?” I ask, my voice more insistent.
“A business trip,” he snarls. “Do you always ask so many goddamn questions?”
“When things don’t make sense and some overprivileged sociopath has kidnapped me.”
“You forgot sex god,” he quips, and my skin ignites at that. The mere idea of Phoenix and sex. Which is foolish because he’s so … him. “That’s usually inserted between overprivileged and sociopath. Sometimes before if you’re really nasty.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Confirmed, but admit it, you’re thinking about it now. Me. Sex. You’re wondering where exactly my bedroom is, how close it is to yours, how easy it would be to just—”
“Stop,” I say on a sharp gasp, ignoring the heat in the pit of my stomach.
“Prude,” he drawls. “But since you’re definitely thinking about me now, I live in one of the cottages, not the main house. That way I’ll never have you interrupting my … activities.”
Gross. And also, yet another display of his excessive privilege. Those guest cottages are big enough to house an entire family.
Since it’s clear he’s not going to give me any information on his parents’ whereabouts and I’d rather chew my own arm off than discuss sex with him, I slump down in the seat, anxiously fidgeting with my bracelet. We don’t speak the rest of the drive, and when we get to school and he parks in the back of the senior parking lot, I rush out of the car before he can get a word out or anyone can see us. At least, I hope no one sees. I hurry away from him and make my way to the main entrance of the building.
The moment I step over the threshold into the school, I go still.
All eyes are on me. Usually, no one even looks my way when I arrive to school, but today the other students gathered in the hall are either stealing furtive glances my way or blatantly staring at me.
Averting my gaze to the floor, I shuffle through the hall toward Margaret’s locker. When I spot her up ahead—minus Gia, who must still be sick—I let out a sigh of relief. I raise my hand and wave at her with a wide grin.
Margaret, however, spears me with a harsh look.
What the hell?
Without a word, she shuts her locker, turns her back on me, and walks away. If she had slapped me, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I drop my hand and stare after her, dumbfounded.
Clearly, I underestimated just how truly shitty things could still get.
* * *
My day goesfrom terrible to awful. I’m so used to being invisible—I try so hard to stay that way—that being the center of attention is discombobulating. Everywhere I turn people are looking at me and whispering to each other. Some whispers are low, but most are not. It’s just like yesterday afternoon, when they were throwing terrible comments my way and making assumptions that cast me as a money-hungry gold-digger.
In government, Bekah Raymond—the girl who sits behind me—writes Fat Bitch on my uniform sweater with a Sharpie. I don’t say anything, but our teacher notices and sends her to Deputy Headmaster Vinovich’s office. As I’m walking to choir, I get an Instagram DM from Bekah. It’s a video from last year of a group of my classmates jumping an Angelview girl in the library along with a message:
This is what happens to big-mouthed sluts.
In choir, two boys from the tenor section spend the entire class theorizing whether I’m bush, landing strip, or bare. Miss Olsen can’t hear what they’re saying, but everyone around them can, and it’s obviously the funniest thing in the world to them. When they move on to guessing the shade of my nipples, I can’t take it anymore.
My hand shoots up, and Miss Olsen stops in the middle of explaining diction and raises her eyebrow at me. “Yes, Miss Luna?”
“I … I’m sorry. Bathroom,” I mutter, grabbing my books and the ruined sweater that I took off before class. I don’t even wait for her to excuse me. I rush for the door, grateful for the drumming in my ears because it drowns out whatever else they’re whispering about me. Just before I leave, I catch Gideon’s sea-blue gaze. His jawline is tense as he gives me the tiniest shake of his head.
I shake mine back.
On top of all that, Margaret will barely talk to me. We run into each other between second and third block and before I can say anything, she snaps, “Do you still have my Government notes? I need them for next block?” After I give them to her, she leaves without another word.
It’s disheartening and makes me feel so shitty that by lunch time I’m tempted to just skip the rest of the day and go home. Except home isn’t home anymore. Home is now a prison disguised by luxury and guarded by cold-hearted jailors.
My nerves are ragged, and my patience is thin as I make my way through the cafeteria in search of a spot to sit. I don’t have an appetite, which might not be such a horrible thing, since no open seats look all that welcoming. Dejected, I pass by a group of girls at a round table. I recognize a few of them from various classes. They’re giggling and shooting looks my way, and it’s too much.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“The things some sluts will do for money,” one girl remarks, crinkling her nose. “Being poor must blow—just like you.”
My God, these girls have got some balls on them, I’ll give them that. They clearly don’t give a damn that they’re insulting me to my face, and it’s disarming—just like the rest of this trash day. I gape at them like an idiot.
“Nothing else to say?” another girl taunts. “Mouth too tired?”
“You know, I’m getting really tired of saving you,” a familiar voice mutters in my ear. I gasp and jerk to the side when Reina appears next to me, a giant sketch pad in her hands. She lays a dismissive stare on the group. “Listen up, bitches. Unless you want me to start announcing whose parents are swinging and which one of you currently has crabs, I would seriously consider—”
“Girls!” I cringe when a deep male voice booms behind us, and Reina’s eyes squeeze shut. We pivot around almost at the same time to face Mr. Sutton, one of the gym teachers as well as the assistant football coach. He looks sort of like a blond version of the guy that plays Uhthred on the show Margaret always teases me about watching.
My best friend had talked about Mr. Sutton half the summer—until she set her sights on Phoenix, that is.
“Everything okay, ladies?” he asks, his brow knitting as he glances between Reina and me.
She gives a tight smile. “If you’re asking if I’m causing trouble, the answer is 42.”
I decide I like Reina even more for her reference to TheHitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Clutching her sketch pad tightly against her chest, she leans into him. His jaw spasms, like he’s scared to be too close to her. “Just so you know, Karen Rodgers has a bet with her friends that she’ll be the first girl here that’ll fuck you. Don’t fall for the loose-lipped Jezebel. She has the pubic lice, and she’ll definitely ask to speak to the headmaster if you underperform.”
Although she drops that revelation just low enough that the girls behind us couldn’t possibly have heard her, my mouth tumbles open. Did she really just say that? Please tell me she didn’t say that.
Mr. Sutton’s spine stiffens, a deep flush clawing up his neck. “Detention, Miss Hartley,” he clips out.
I let out a strangled sound when she excitedly claps her hands. Does this girl enjoy pushing people? “My favie. See you at 3:45,” she deadpans, then crooks a finger at me. “Come on, Josslyn.”
Dismissed, Mr. Sutton stalks off to join the other teacher on lunch duty.
I walk beside Reina in stunned silence. The girls at the table glare us down, likely hoping the roof will tumble down on top of us, but Reina just laughs and shrugs them off.
“Reina—”
“Relax, those bitches won’t do anything, and Sutton’ll just have me write lines or something equally as boring and stupid because Aric is his star player, and he wouldn’t dare piss off the precious.” To drive her point home, she pivots toward Alaric and Phoenix’s table and wiggles her fingers at her brother. Alaric responds with flared nostrils and a set jaw.
Phoenix is staring our way, too, his expression so intense that my breath falters. I rip my focus from his, but I can still feel those green eyes on me when I face Reina again.
She’s giving me a funny look, one that makes me shift uncomfortably, as I blurt out, “You really didn’t have to do any of that. Or get yourself in trouble with Mr. Sutton.”
“Well, I did.” Again. She had defended me again. What’s her angle? Why does she keep helping me? She’s related to the Townsends, so she has to have some selfish ulterior motive, right?
She leads me to two empty seats at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria and we sit. I drag my teeth over my bottom lip for a few seconds before I finally whisper, “You don’t really know all that about those girls, do you?”
She rolls her eyes and plucks a fry off my tray. “You learn a lot skipping class in the bathrooms. You should try it sometime.”
I scowl at her as she nibbles my fry and swipes another. “The last time I spent significant time in the bathroom, Kallista doused me in iced coffee.”
“And you should have shoved the cup down her cock-sucking throat, just like you should have beat Bekah’s ass for that Sharpie bullshit.” When my eyebrows shoot straight up, she sighs, “Yes, I know about that. I also know you’re going to need thicker skin if you’re going to do whatever it is you’re doing with Phoenix.”
“I can’t get kicked out,” I say, and her hazel eyes roll dramatically.
“Famous last words, but you also can’t be a punching bag.” She flips her sketch pad open to reveal an intricate pencil drawing of a set of male hands. “The girls at this school will eat you alive because that’s all they know how to do.”
“I—”
She scoots closer and adds on a whisper, “Especially if they know you’re living with us.”
For the first time, it dawns on me that she probably knows more about my situation than I do. She might know what exactly it is that Jasper stole. I mean, just yesterday she was full of questions and now…
“Reina, do you know what’s going on?” I tentatively ask. “Between me and Phoenix, I mean?”
“I know your grandmother’s never worked for my aunt and uncle. I know that there’s something wrong. Something more fucked than usual happening in that house. Why else would…”
I wait for her to finish that sentence, my heart beating faster and my breath racing past my lips. When her gaze whips back to mine, though, she tilts her head slightly.
“I’ve been told to keep my fucking nose out of Phoenix’s business, but I know that whatever this is? It’s a mistake,” she says, her voice low with warning. “You should have stayed far, far away from my family, sweetheart.”