Bound: Highgate Preparatory Academy, Book 2

I stare at the unusual glittering diamond and ruby ring, nestled in deep crimson silk, dumfounded. The sound of a chair crashing to the floor behind me registers, along with a growled curse, but it’s as if it’s all far away, in some other place.

“Marry you?” I whisper, finally looking up into Ash’s face. His steel eyes are swirling, a myriad of emotions running through them, but the overarching one is a plea, begging me to trust him. My brows draw down, my head shaking slightly. “Why?” I ask, but this time I look at Julian. After all, he’s the one behind this, the puppetmaster. “Why do you want me to marry Ash?”

He smirks at me, and I want to fucking punch his perfectly straight teeth out of his devil’s mouth.

“How was your little trip to London, Darling?” he asks instead, tipping his head to one side like a snake contemplating its prey. I hate that he uses my surname like a term of endearment. Shivers cascade over me as I’m trapped in his predator’s leer, and in my peripheral vision, I see Ash stiffen further until he’s become the Ice Knight everyone knows him to be. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t know about your jaunt, did you?” And then Julian tsks at me like a naughty wayward child, and my blood boils at the fucking audacity of this man. “That somehow, we wouldn’t know about those bonds and shares in our company your mother had hidden away.”

I can feel my face go cold, the blood draining from it, and no doubt leaving me pale and terrified looking. And I am. I’m fucking scared shitless at what this means.

“Now,” he starts, stepping out from his space and coming slowly, menacingly, towards me, leering eyes holding mine. “We can’t have a slip of a girl like you, who knows nothing about the work that has gone into Black Knight Corporation to make it the great enterprise that it is today, holding us to ransom. At first, I thought that we could just…dispose of you, like we usually do to things that get in our way,” A growl sounds behind me—Jax, no doubt—but my eyes are full of the crazed grey of Julian’s, unable to look away. “But then, everything goes to your uncle, as your next of kin, and that doesn’t help us much either.”

He steps fully behind me, and my relief at no longer being under his scrutiny is short-lived as his hands come down on my shoulders, gently like a lover’s caress, his thumbs stroking the base of my neck. Bile fills my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to throw up all over the glistening silverware.

“Father,” Ash grits out, jerking as if he wants to stand up and rip the older man’s hands off me. Please, Ash.

“I’m not done, boy,” Julian snarls, his grip tightening to the point of bruising, and a sharp gasp falls from my painted lips. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I had a better idea, so here is what will happen. You will marry Asher, be the happiest of brides, radiant on your wedding day, etcetera. Ash will become your next of kin, you will name him in your Will so that if anything unfortunate were to happen to you, he will inherit your stocks, shares, and bonds. Of course, you will remain a silent partner.” He pauses, going back to caressing my shoulders lovingly, and I can’t suppress the shudder that runs through me. “Oh, and they’ll be no more whoring yourself out to the other boys. I will not have bastard grandchildren.” His fingers dig in again, as if to reinforce his point, but I barely register the pain, my mind a maelstrom. Then I feel his breath against my ear as he leans down and whispers, so only I hear. “Although, if you ever want a real man between those pretty thighs, you only have to ask.”

Dizziness washes over me at his words, my nails digging into my palms deep enough to break the skin with a sharp sting. I feel dirty, a sense of violation settling deep within my soul as he straightens up, giving me one last caress before my back is cold once more when he moves away. My eyes are unseeing, staring straight ahead as I think about all that he’s just said. I can’t see a way out, and panic starts to flutter at the edges of my vision, black dots appearing before me.

Suddenly, I feel a solid weight settle on my thigh, gripping me hard and bringing me back into the room. Slowly my head turns, as if I’m underwater, and I meet Ash’s clear grey eyes. There’s sorrow there, as well as a fierceness in the tight lines around his eyes that tells me we will get through this. He lets go of my thigh, taking my left hand in his, and bringing it in front of him. I don’t look away as I feel him slide the ring onto my finger, the cool metal soon heating up with the contact of my overheated skin. There’s a flare of…something, that flashes in his grey orbs. It’s very close to possession, and my heart thuds in my chest with the knowledge that I am his now, officially.

“A toast!” Julian cries, his voice jovial and full of merriment, and waiting staff step forward with pre-opened bottles of the finest Dom Pérignon. They must have known before I did.

The thought flies through my mind as I continue to stare at Ash, letting his strength flow through me, bolstering my walls until they are solid enough to face these demons. He leans in, keeping his eyes locked with mine until he’s no longer able to.

“I will not take them away from you, Princess. I promise,” he murmurs in my ear, the same one his father spoke into mere moments ago. But this time, my shoulders droop with relief, moisture stinging my eyes.

“Thank you,” I say back, my lips barely moving so as not to alert anyone else of our hushed conversation.

“Anything,” he tells me, pulling away just enough so that I can see the vow in his words. “Anything for you, my love.”

ASH

I try to reassure her with my eyes, her own hazel ones swimming with a mixture of gratitude and devastation. I can’t deny the asshole in me loves the idea of her being my wife. Of owning her, having my family’s ring on her finger like countless generations of Vanderbilt women before her. The thought is enough to make me rock-fucking-solid, even with these jackals surrounding us.

But, cunt though I might be, I would never take her away from the others. I couldn’t do that to them, to her. She’s theirs just as much as she’s mine, regardless of what a piece of paper may say.

I look past her to see Jax, hands clenched into fists on the table, his flute of bubbling champagne untouched as he vibrates with anger. Slowly, he turns his head and meets my gaze. Fuck. His eyes are full of piercing blue rage, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

Only years of training allow me to hold my ground, no outward sign of the fear that’s taken root in my heart. In my soul. He has never, in our entire lives, looked at me like he wants to feel my insides slither between his fingers. And he could, he knows how to make someone’s internal organs become external, all while keeping them alive.

I nod my head, the move barely perceptible. But like me, years of rigorous training allows him to see the movement. His brows dip slightly, a note of confusion entering his blue orbs. So I do the only thing that will assure him of my meaning.

The sounds of our parents’ celebration and chatting around us fade as I stare into the blue depths of his eyes, and with an infinitesimal movement of my lips, I mouth the one word that will tell him all that he needs to know.

Yours.

His nostrils flare slightly, his shoulders loosening a small amount. He gives me a slight nod back, and I know that he’ll give me shit later when we’re alone, but at least he understands.

Turning my head, I look across the table to find Loki and Kai watching our exchange. Both have matching looks of rage in their eyes, all directed at me. I can’t blame them, I would feel the same if one of them had been chosen. I just got lucky for once in my miserable life, my cursed Vanderbilt blood being good for something at last.

I catch Loki’s eye, the emerald blazing as he tries to suppress his anger. People think that he’s the least dangerous of us all, all smiles and flirtatious winks. But in some ways, he’s the worst of our little group. You don’t see the knife coming until it’s buried in your chest, all while he smiles at you like you’re the best of friends, and your death is a big joke.

His hand grips his dinner knife, and it takes a lot for me to suppress the twitch of my lips at the thought that he wants to stab me, right here and now. Last year, I would have begged him to do it too. Not so much anymore.

Staring into his eyes, just like with Jax, I mouth the word he needs to hear.

Yours.

His grip loosens on the piece of gleaming cutlery, although he doesn’t let go of it completely. Good.

I meet Kai’s narrowed honey scowl, and before I can mouth the same to him, he beats me to it.

Mine.

I nod and see his beast recede into the depths once more. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. They’ll dance in your blood, leaving crimson footsteps in the snow just because it looks pretty.

The servers lean in, taking away our starters and replacing them with plates filled with roast meat, golden roast potatoes, buttery vegetables, and lashings of gravy.

“In honor of my soon to be English daughter-in-law, I thought we’d eat a traditional British roast dinner,” My father announces, looking at Lilly with far more than fatherly affection in his leer. My hand grasps hers, rubbing her knuckles as I bring it to my thigh and give him a death glare. “Are you pleased, Darling?”

I swear if that cunt uses her last name like that one more fucking time…

I don’t realize that I’ve squeezed her hand tightly until she squeezes back, so I loosen my grip, turning to dip my head in apology at her. She gives me a weak smile that damn near breaks my black heart.

“T–thank you,” she whispers, looking quickly down at her left hand, which is still in mine.

I let the sounds of everyone beginning to eat wash over me as I finger the sparkling antique jewel that now sits on her ring finger, the diamonds glinting in the candlelight. It’s an antique piece, mid-eighteenth century, and has been in my family since that time. A Burmese ruby and rose cut diamond sit side by side in a heart shape, set in rose gold, with a crown of three smaller diamonds sitting atop them. On the side in enamel is the motto UNIS À JAMAIS which means ‘united forever’ in French. It suits her delicate hand, and a fissure of certainty runs through me, like she was always meant to wear it.

“Did you know that this ring has been worn by a Vanderbilt woman since the mid-eighteenth century?” I ask her, looking up from our hands to watch her reaction, drinking in every movement of her beautiful face.

“It’s stunning,” she whispers back, looking at her hand as if it’s strange to have the weight of so much history on her finger.

“The story goes that several times great-granddaddy won it from a visiting Russian Tsar in a card game.” A rare smile lifts my lips at the memory of my grandmother telling Luc and I the story as children. “Apparently, it belonged to his favorite courtesan, who threw a spectacular tantrum in the middle of the party when he lost it, where, much to the amusement of everyone present, the Tsar threw her over his knee and spanked her until she begged for mercy.”

I watch as her eyebrows raise to her hairline, then drop as she sharply looks up at me when it dawns on her what I just said.

“You gave me a whore’s ring?” she asks, lifting one eyebrow and giving me a scathing look.

God, she’s exquisite when she’s angry at me. It takes almost more strength than I have not to give her one of my signature smirks. I lean in, so close that my lips brush her ear as I whisper in them.

“You gonna make me throw you over my knee again, Princess? In front of all these people? Naughty minx.” Then I nip her earlobe for good measure, relishing the hiss of breath that leaves her lips.

My smirk is fully in place as I pull away, although it drops slightly when I catch the look of pure unfiltered lust in her eyes. Fuck, that backfired. We both swallow hard, but luckily the sound of silverware on glass breaks us from our trance.

“Another toast!” my father cries out, and I turn to see him raise his champagne flute in the air. We all follow suit, waiting for him to speak like good little lapdogs. It makes me feel sick, following him like this. One day soon, just a little longer, and he’ll be the one following orders. “To the beautiful Lilly, and my son, Asher. May you have a long and happy life together, a fruitful union…” He pauses here and gives her another lecherous look that makes my hand tighten around my glass to almost breaking point. “And above all else, continue the legacy that is Black Knight Corporation, as your heirs will after you.”

Everyone raises their glasses higher, a chorus of “Here, here!” sounding around the table as we all drink the bubbling liquid that costs thousands per bottle, but tastes like nothing but ashes in my mouth.