Savage Royals Read online

  She shifted slightly in her seat, her gaze flicking out the window. “Yes, well. Your mother left Roseland a few years after college, and that was the end of that. After she disappeared, we didn’t hear much from her. We had to hear about her death from…”

  She cleared her throat, blinking rapidly a few times, but that was all the emotion she showed. In another breath, she’d tucked it all away and had the same composed look on her face as when she’d greeted me outside the airport.

  “So, you knew she died nine years ago?” I asked quietly, widening the tear in my jeans.

  My grandmother clamped a hand over mine, stopping my nervous fidgeting.

  “Yes. We knew.”

  I jerked at her touch. Then her words sank in, and I turned to stare at her in shock as she clasped her hands placidly in her lap again.

  If my grandparents knew my mom had died so long ago, why hadn’t they done anything then? I’d been living with a monster since I was seven years old, and not once had this woman even checked on me.

  “So why didn’t anyone come and get me?”

  Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “We didn’t need to intervene before. You were taken care of. You had your father and a place to live. Why would you need us?”

  I turned back to stare out the window as my fingers dug into my thighs. The slight pain grounded me, keeping me from lashing out at her the way I wanted to. How could she make it seem like I’d been fine?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, a sudden twinge of pain shooting through my legs. Memories of my dad’s fists, his brutal words, and worst of all, his tearful promises to do better, flooded my mind.

  They could have looked into it. They could have come to visit and seen how their grandchild was treated.

  Instead, they’d done nothing. They’d left me alone with a man who’d verbally and physically torn me down until the day booze had finally killed him.

  An acidic taste flooded my mouth as we lapsed into silence. Janet the social worker had meant well, but this was a nothing like the rosy picture she’d painted. Maybe I was better off with these people than in foster care, but the polished woman sitting on the seat next to me didn’t feel like family at all.

  Janet was right about one thing though. This is a chance to make something better for myself. All I have to do is keep my head down, get a good education, and get the hell out of here.

  “There’s Oak Park,” Jacqueline said another two hours into the drive, pointing out the window to our left. “You’ll be staying there while you attend.”

  Unable to help my curiosity, I leaned across the seat to peer out her window. The campus was surrounded by a high brick wall, but I could see several large buildings rising beyond, their pristine white facades practically glowing against the bright blue sky. Red tiles covered the roofs—Spanish architecture, I thought it was called—and the grounds were perfectly manicured. The words Oak Park Preparatory Academy were spelled out above the thick, black gates.

  It was beautiful and imposing, and I craned my neck to keep staring as the driver rolled past.

  When we were several yards away, the heavy gates behind us swung open, and a dark red convertible pulled out onto the street, turning left to follow behind us.

  My focus shifted from the school to the car, and my breath caught.

  Holy fuck.

  There were four guys in the convertible, and they looked about my age. Students at Oak Park, probably. But they had an aura about them that made them seem almost ageless, like they were immortal or something. The children of gods.

  The driver had rich, dark brown hair that shone in the sun like melted chocolate, high cheekbones, and an angular jaw. The guy next to him was almost the exact opposite, with golden-blond hair and a tanned face that was split in a wide, easy smile. The two behind them were just as stunning, as if they might’ve walked off a movie set. The black-haired one had his hair cut short on the sides but longer on top, and even at a glance, I could feel an intensity coming off him that made me shiver. The one with lighter brown hair ran a hand through perfectly styled bronze hair, a lazy grin tilting his full, plush lips.

  I stared at them, unable to tear my gaze away. There’d been over a thousand students at my high school in Idaho, and not a single one of them looked anything like these boys.

  The guy behind the wheel flicked his gaze up, locking eyes with me for the briefest second. His eyebrows drew together just slightly, and he tilted his head to get a better look at me. Then he whipped the wheel to the right, veering around our large black car and cutting us off. The guy in the front passenger seat whooped and yelled as our driver slammed on the brakes, making both me and Jacqueline lurch forward. I gripped the door and stared after them as they peeled away.

  My grandmother tsked in annoyance. “I’ll expect better behavior from you while you’re a student there.”

  We drove in silence for another thirty minutes, and I did my best to keep from picking at the hole in my jeans as we drove through what I presumed was Roseland. We passed an area full of expensive looking boutiques and shops before entering a residential neighborhood. Most of the houses were set back from the road, hidden behind gates just like the school had been.

  After a while, one of the gates on our right opened, and the driver pulled the car smoothly through.

  The house was massive. It had to be at least three or four stories, with white stone walls and ornate detailing. The architectural style seemed old, but the building itself was pristine, as if it’d been built yesterday. The circular drive led up to an imposing front entrance, with stairs leading up to a door fronted by two marble columns.

  We pulled to a stop, and the driver unloaded my bags before he took the car and disappeared down another section of the driveway, probably to some private garage.

  “Welcome home, Talia.” Jacqueline stepped up beside me, taking my elbow and steering me toward the front door.

  The place seemed to sprawl on and on, and I was dizzy by the time she’d finished only half the tour. A kitchen, two dining rooms, studies, bedrooms, bathrooms, entertainment rooms, a garden, a tea room. I was ready to throw up from the sheer size of it.

  “Your room will be upstairs,” Jacqueline said. “You’ll have your own private bathroom, but I doubt you’ll need either of them very much. Oak Park will have excellent accommodations for you.”

  I nodded in a daze. Everything was moving too fast, and it felt like the massive, opulent house was swallowing me up. Like I’d get lost in the cavernous space and never be found.

  She led me into another study on the first floor, where a man sat hunched over a large book. I had no idea what he was doing, but Jacqueline had to clear her throat before he looked up.

  “Philip, this is your granddaughter, Talia. Talia, this is your grandfather.”

  His gaze lifted slowly, piercing me with bright blue eyes that had started to dull. He had heavy, blunt features, and his hair was more silver than brown. Unlike my grandma, he looked his age—and then some. A frown played over his lips, and as I watched, he picked up a heavy crystal glass and sipped the amber liquid inside. Whiskey, probably. My dad had preferred beer and vodka, but he’d been willing to drink anything in a pinch.

  “Hello.” The man’s voice was heavy too, and he set the glass down but held onto it, as if he expected to need another sip momentarily. “It’s nice to meet you, Talia.”

  Is it?

  I did my best not to squirm under his appraisal, lifting my chin and keeping my shoulders back. “You too… Philip.”

  The word grandpa just wouldn’t come to my lips, and I wasn’t sure it would’ve been a good idea to call him that in any case. I chewed the inside of my lip, my gut churning.

  “We should go over the ground rules,” Jacqueline said as she all but floated around the desk to join her husband. She was almost a full foot shorter than him, but the power that radiated from her made her seem taller. “Rules to keep in mind while you’re here.”

  I nodded lightly, an
d she continued without a pause.

  “You’ll start school on Monday. You’re only a week late, so you should be fine. You’ll wear the Oak Park uniform on campus, but we’ll get you a car and a credit card so you can get some”—her gaze flicked down my body—“proper clothes.”

  My cheeks flamed. I’d worn what I thought was a nice top, but my jeans were faded and old—and I’d only drawn attention to their disrepair by picking at them in the car.

  “And finally, there will be no shenanigans in this house or anywhere else,” Jacqueline continued, her voice hardening. “You’ll go to school, get good grades, and keep out of trouble. You might not be living under our roof, but you represent our family at all times, and you have to remember that. Always. I won’t have you following in your mother’s footsteps.”

  I nodded, clenching my jaw against defensive words.

  She obviously already had an idea of what kind of person I was based on my mother, but I had no idea what that image was.

  Had my mother been difficult? Rebellious?

  It sounded like they’d had some kind of falling out, and Jacqueline obviously blamed my mom for it. In my memories of her, she was quiet and sad, but she wasn’t wild or anything. Mostly, I remembered the way her lips quirked up higher on one side than the other when she smiled, and the way her hazel eyes seemed to change color with the light.

  She’d been snatched away from me by some asshole who’d hit her with their car. They’d fled the scene, and the police had never found who’d done it, but that night had sent my life careening in a terrible new direction.

  “Are you listening, Talia?” My grandmother raised an eyebrow.

  I blinked. “Yes. Sorry, I understand.”

  “Good.” She ran her gaze over me once more. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  I hid out in my room until I was called down for dinner. The meal was long and awkward, an almost totally silent affair, and as soon as it was over, I fled back upstairs. But I was too wired to sleep, so just before midnight, I tiptoed out of my room and made my way down the stairs through the darkness. When I slipped out the back door, the cool night air caressed my skin.

  The large manicured garden behind the house was perfectly maintained, and a little farther on, the grass turned to sand. I followed it to the ocean and watched as waves crashed against the beach.

  The water called to me, and I caved right away. I dipped a toe into the white froth and shivered as cold zipped up my leg like an electric shock. It was freezing. I smiled as I stuck another toe in the water and let the tingle of coldness climb up my leg.

  For the first time since leaving home this morning, a smile pulled at my lips. Maybe this could be a good thing. Maybe life with my grandparents would get better. And even if it didn’t, I could still get a good education here, a diploma from a fancy-ass school that would open doors for me I’d never even dreamed of before.

  Fuck. I wish I had someone to talk to about all of this.

  Besides casual acquaintances at school, I hadn’t had many friends back home. I’d spent most of my time in the diner, and any spare time or money left over after the bills were paid had gone toward dance classes… and then toward physical therapy for my legs. My mom had raised me on dance, putting me in ballet classes almost as soon as I could walk. I didn’t know where she’d gotten the passion for it, but she’d instilled enough of it in me that by the time she died, it was a part of my blood.

  Tugging my phone out of my jacket pocket, I pulled up my contacts and scrolled through them. I’d broken our lease with the landlord and told Sebastian I was quitting the diner, but other than that, I hadn’t told a single person in Sand Valley where I was going.

  Is there anyone I even need to tell?

  The more I scrolled, the more I realized there wasn’t.

  I set the phone in the sand and stared at it as I wrapped my arms around my legs, feeling rootless and completely untethered.

  The rest of the weekend was about the same as my first day. I crept around the house like I was living in a museum, afraid to touch anything. There were hardly any pictures in the place, and almost none of my mom.

  Are they really that ashamed of her?

  It was almost a relief when Monday rolled around. Nervousness made my stomach twist, but no matter how bad Oak Park might be, it had to be better than the awkward, tense atmosphere of this house.

  My school uniform had arrived over the weekend, and I threw it on quickly before heading downstairs. When I reached the front door, Jacqueline was waiting for me. She gave me an appraising look and nodded toward the door.

  “Our car is waiting.”

  The driver tossed my bag into the trunk as I slid into the seat behind my grandmother, tucking my backpack between my feet.

  “We’ll get you a car of your own and have it delivered to campus sometime this week,” she said as we drove. “You can stay in your dorm over the weekends or come back home—it’s up to you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I offered up a weak smile. No matter how nice the words sounded, her offer didn’t seem quite genuine.

  The black gates opened, and the car pulled into the massive campus. I saw a sign for student parking, but we rolled past it, following the curving road toward the large school building. Two other buildings clustered around it, and they all looked much more imposing up close than they had from the road. Each one seemed to loom over me, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine.

  “What are you waiting for? You’re going to be late.”

  I jerked. “Right. Sorry. Thanks.”

  “I’ll have your things brought to your room. The registrar is expecting you.”

  I snatched up my backpack and slid out of the car, forcing my feet to carry me toward the huge white building.

  Breathe. It’s just a school. You’ll be fine.

  The closer I got to the intricately detailed doors, the more my mantra felt like complete bullshit. But I steadied myself and pushed onward.

  Chapter 3

  I made my way to the registrar’s office and stood at the counter as I waited for my schedule to be printed off. The woman behind the desk handed it to me, and she must’ve noticed the slightly panicked look on my face because she glanced behind me, raising her voice.

  “Leah, could you come in here a minute?”

  A girl popped her head into the office, raising her eyebrows in question. “What’s up, Miss S?

  “Miss Simms, Leah, please. Can you show Talia around? She’s a transfer student; this is her first day.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

  The girl bounced inside the room, grinning at me. Her auburn hair was cut in a sleek bob, and she wore the same uniform I did—a navy skirt with two white bands around the bottom, a white dress shirt with a red tie, and a white blazer with navy trim. There were freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and her skin glowed with a soft tan. Her eyes opened wide with interest as she took me in, and she extended a slender, manicured hand.

  “I’m Leah. Nice to meet you.”

  “Talia.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Sand Valley.”

  Her face scrunched up. “Umm…”

  “It’s okay,” I said quickly, not surprised she had no idea where it was. “It’s just a little town in Idaho.”

  The expression of intense interest on her face only grew, and I fidgeted uncomfortably. But then she shrugged. “Cool. C’mon, I’ll show you to the dorms.”

  She slipped out of the room so fast I had to hustle to catch up to her. We walked through the main school building and emerged on the opposite side I’d entered from. Two other large buildings sat on either side, the three structures creating a sort of U shape.

  “Most of your classes will be in one of these.” She flipped a hand vaguely in the direction of the white-walled buildings as she led me toward the quad—a massive open space with crisscrossing pathways, trees, benches, and a huge fountain in the middle. “But PE and a
nything sports related will be over there.” Her chin jerked ahead of us to our right. “And there are a few extra class buildings and admin buildings over there too.”

  “Got it,” I murmured, glancing over at the large gymnasium. I could see volleyball courts, tennis courts, and a swimming pool too.

  She gestured ahead of us to the left. “Dining hall is that way. The football field is that way too, but it’s got a separate entrance on the other side of campus. And dorms”—she veered left sharply, around the tip of the U—“are over this way. Which one are you in?”

  I was so busy staring around at all the buildings she’d pointed out, trying to get my bearings, that it took me too long to answer her question.

  Instead of waiting, she plucked my registration packet from my hand and flipped through it. Her face scrunched up. “Ah, fuck. You’re in the Wastelands.”

  “The what?” I finally caught up with her, peering over her shoulder to read the form.

  “Prentice Hall. We call it the Wastelands because it’s practically on the edge of campus, and it’s usually only half-full. It’s like the overflow dorm. You probably got stuck there ’cause you registered late.”

  Oh. Well, whatever. She made it sound like a shithole, but honestly, it was hard to imagine anything on this campus not being luxurious and pristine.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I shrugged. “What dorm are you in?”

  “Stephenson Hall.” As we talked, she’d led me around to the outside edge of the U. She gestured behind us to our right, where several rows of what looked like large apartment buildings could be seen in the distance. “It’s over there. We’re divided into boys’ and girls’ dorms, but they put them right next to each other, the idiots.” Then she chuckled. “Not like it really matters, I guess. They could’ve put them on totally different ends of campus, and people would still be sneaking into each others’ dorms to hook up.”