Not A Peep: A Forbidden, Bully, Dark College Romance, page 22
She nods then turns to Grant. “What about you, mister?”
“What? Oh, no thanks,” he mutters, barely sparing her a glance as he gives me my phone. He leans back in his seat as the waitress nods and walks off to her next table.
The small diner we’ve stopped at is charming, with a fifty’s vibe and an elderly patronage to go with it. It’s late, closing in around ten o’clock. This was the only place open for miles except for the occasional fast food restaurant. I would’ve thought the place would be beneath Grant Gipson, but he strolled in and flashed the older hostess a winning smile and has been amenable this entire time. In fact, he’s been much more laid back than I’ve ever seen him. It’s a breath of fresh air dealing with the business side of Grant.
“How do you know all of this?” Grant asks, grabbing his soda and sucking it down.
I shrug. “As you already know, I’ve been thinking about getting back into the real estate game. Lately, I’ve been doing research on the market around here. Every night, I typically scroll through available properties and do a little digging.”
Grant nods thoughtfully as he watches me closely. I try to hold his gaze, but this isn’t the cruel Grant I’m used to. The Grant before me is watching me with interest and something else… Unable to hold his gaze, mine drops to the tabletop.
“Rachel should have told me about the wind farm,” he mutters in disgust. “And the fact that the first property backs to a property my father just bought. That was a good call to check who owned that.”
Yes, she should have. But I know why she didn’t. That woman is all about the commission. If Grant chose either of those properties, Rachel would be making almost triple the money than if Grant bought the third house. And if those houses didn’t work out later on? Well, Grant could come find her, and she’d happily sell it for a second commission. Rather than say this, however, I remain silent, basking in the glow of Grant’s rare praise.
Reaching down, I grab a fry off my plate and bite into it. They’ve long since grown cold, but they’re still delicious. As I eat, I force myself to look up. Grant reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. Ever since we left Rachel at the third house, he’s been raking his fingers through his auburn waves. He’s hot when he’s dressed to the nines, but seeing him a bit flustered and frazzled… I like it even more.
I really need to get away from this kid before I start thinking I like his company.
As if the waitress can hear my thoughts, she walks by again and places the check between us. I snatch it up before Grant can bother to reach for it. He raises a brow and I shoot him a dark look.
“I’ll pay for my own.”
“I think I can handle the bill,” he objects, holding his hand out for it.
“And let everyone in here think this is a date? No thanks.” I reach into my purse and pull out a ten. I meet Grant’s eyes as I tell him, “You owe eleven thirty-seven. I’ll take care of the tip.”
“What’s so wrong with this being considered a date?”
I roll my eyes. “C’mon Grant. Like either of us would want that.”
He hums with a slight nod before sliding out of his side of the booth and walking away. I watch as he heads over to the counter and hands our waitress a plastic card. Wait, what? When did he pull out his wallet? And is he really paying? Heat flares to life in my cheeks as the waitress takes it with a smile. Damn him! Of course, just when I think I can actually like anything about Grant, he goes and ruins it. I slide out of my seat, leaving behind my ten as a tip, and head for the door.
Outside, the night has grown considerably cooler. Without a jacket, I wrap my arms around myself as I head toward Grant’s truck. As I do, a car roars to life nearby. I jump in surprise as headlights momentarily blind me. Behind me the door to the diner opens. I turn at the sound of footsteps headed toward me. Grant comes to a stop beside me and raises a brow.
“What was that about?” I hiss.
“I didn’t want anyone thinking it was a date.” He shrugs. “So I made it a point to let the waitress, and everyone else in there, know it definitely was one.”
I growl as a smug smile pulls at his mouth.
“Take me home.” I stomp past him toward his truck.
I shoo off his hands when he tries to help me up into his truck, and I ignore his laughter as he watches me struggle until I make it up into my seat. When he’s climbed in and we’re pulling away, Grant asks,
“What’s so wrong with a date with me?”
Feeling annoyed with myself for finding any type of enjoyment with the guy sitting next to me, I cross my arms and stare out of my window. We have an hour’s drive home, maybe longer. It seems like forever.
“Because it’s you.”
“What does that mean?”
I turn to glare at him. “I’m only here because you’re holding information over my head.”
“That may be true, but you had fun tonight. You were in your element and thrived. And you were with me, doing something that you love. I think that circumvents the other thing.” Grant smiles at me.
I sputter, momentarily speechless. Yes, I had a great time tonight. More than I thought possible, given the company. But he can’t possibly think that because I had fun, I don’t consider this an abuse of power. “No, it doesn’t!”
“Yes, it does. In any case,” he rolls his eyes, “I was right to bring you. I have to run it by Jason and Trip, but thanks to your insight, the third house may be the winner.”
“Glad I could help,” I grumble, glad that the conversation has shifted. The words ‘date’ and ‘Grant’ in the same sentence just don’t belong where I’m involved. No matter how attractive he is or how hot and bothered he makes me.
“You’ve helped us in more ways than you know, dollface.” Grant speaks so softly, that I don’t know if I was supposed to hear that.
I consider his words though. Is he talking about tonight or with Trip’s situation with his dad? It’s not like I’ve done that much. Nothing they couldn’t have figured out on their own. So why, then, does Grant seem so solemn all of a sudden? Maybe, if we were actually friends, I would press him and ask what he’s thinking.
Time ticks by and for a while we’re quiet, lost in our own thoughts. Just as the dark cab and warm air start to lull me to sleep, Grant speaks.
“You should go ahead and get your real estate license. This won’t be the only property we buy. You’d make a good member of the team.”
“Team?”
“Yeah, you know,” Grant shoots me a strangely warm smile. “I’m the business guy, Jason will be the on-call vet, and Trip will be our carpenter to keep up the ranch.”
I shake my head. “I’m not planning on changing careers any time soon.”
“We could change that.” The warm smile falls from Grant’s mouth as he stares ahead. “All it would take would be to forward a little email. If you lose your job, why not fall back onto something you know?”
My heart sinks as I watch the wheels begin to turn in his head.
“Don’t do that, Grant,” I whisper in horror.
“Why shouldn’t we?”
I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. I’ve come to slowly realize that he and the others feed off my fear.
“Because then you’re stuck with me. Forever.” I try to smile, making it into a joke. Grant doesn’t respond so I try another tactic. “And who’s to say I’d work in your favor? Fuck me over, and I’ll just fuck you over.”
This gets him to smile.
“Ah, there’s the cutthroat bitch we investigated. I wondered if I would ever be on the receiving end of that, or if Jackie would be your only victim.”
“You gave me some pretty damning information this evening that I’m sure your father would be interested in hearing. I’ll be that bitch if you drive me to it,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
Grant laughs. There’s a cold edge to it that I don’t like at all.
“He’d take one look at you and find you lacking. If you’re not wearing designer clothes and reek of money, you wouldn’t be worth his time. Anything you said would be dismissed. Then, when you’re least suspecting it, he’d destroy you just for the hell of it. He’s quick and good at two things: ruining people’s lives and turning everything into a profit. He’s everything I don’t want to be.” He pauses. “Though, that’s just another reason for you to work for us. He’d never suspect you to be a threat.”
I’m not sure how to react to this information. Insulted? Relieved? Rather than settle for one I completely disregard all of it and fall silent.
“What? No more pleading?” Grant asks pleasantly.
I don’t respond. Tucking my feet underneath me, I turn my head and stare out my window. It’s funny to hear how Grant wants nothing to do with his father, yet all I’ve heard from him are similarities.
If he’s not careful, he’ll unknowingly become the person he’s so desperately trying not to be.
I nod off at some point during the drive home but jerk awake as we drive over the speedbumps to my apartment. Working down the scream lodged in my throat, I breathe deep and evenly through my nose. My grip on my seat loosens as Grant pulls to a stop in front of my building. I push open the door and jump down without a word.
“Thanks again, dollface,” Grant calls after me.
Tired of his dramatic mood changes, I flip him the middle finger and slam the door shut behind me. Without looking back, I head up the stairs to my apartment. For as much coffee that I’d downed over dinner, I’m exhausted. Maybe it was the long night I pulled the night before. Either way, I’m ready to collapse. The thought of falling into bed the moment I walk inside is the only thing giving me enough energy to pick up my feet.
I make it to my door and move to unlock it. As my key comes toward the doorknob, I freeze.
The door is cracked open. What? I could’ve sworn I shut it this morning as Grant and I left. The lock doesn’t look broken so maybe it just didn’t latch when I shut it. The probable scenario doesn’t calm me down as I push open the door and step inside. I flick on the lights and gasp.
My apartment has been trashed.
The couch cushions have been ripped apart and the frame sticks out at strange angles. The console table is in pieces, my potted plants and pictures are shattered, soil and glass littering the floor. There are gouges in the carpet, cabinet doors missing in the kitchen, and my food that was in the refrigerator is thrown on the walls. My television lays face down on the ground and on top of it is…
I gag and look away. Who poops on things?
My heart drops right out of my chest. Wh-what? My mind reels as I try to piece everything together. But the longer I look at the mess, the more I’m baffled. And the more scared I get. I can hear the pounding of my heart in my head. Is the room spinning? I reach out and brace my hand against the wall to steady myself.
W-who would do this? And why?
Immediately, my thoughts go to Trip and Jason. Could this be some type of punishment for breaking some rule? Were they upset that I was with Grant? No, that can’t be right. Those three are completely in sync with one another. So, had Grant called them and told them to do this for some reason?
None of that feels right. They’re assholes for sure, but this? This doesn’t feel like them. Their punishments come in the form of orgasms, or lack thereof. They’ve never outright destroyed anything before. But if it wasn’t them, who would do this?
And could they still be here?
My knee-jerk reaction is to call out and see if anyone answers. Thank goodness I have better sense than that. As quickly and as quietly as I can, I back up, out of the apartment and shut the door. With a shaking hand, I pull out my phone and call the police.
“Alright, Miss Wilson, your place has been thoroughly checked and there is no one inside,” Officer Fieldward assures me. The middle aged man with sun-kissed skin and graying brown hair sticking out from beneath his hat pulls me off to the side as his partner steps out of my apartment.
“We’ll file your report and make sure it’s in the system. I think you’ll be ok staying here, but if it’s possible, I suggest calling and staying with a friend.”
A friend? Immediately, I think of Pianna. She would be the one I normally ran to if something got bad. But she’s not around and a trip across the state just isn’t in the cards for me right now. I work in the morning. I could call Jonathan and Brenda. I’m sure they’d let me stay with them. But then they’d fret, and, like a mother hen, they both would hover, and it would be stifling. I definitely don’t want that. I could call Megan, but she’ll want to talk my ear off about this, and I don’t want to do anything other than sleep.
What about the guys?
It goes to show how tired I am that I am even considering calling them. Would they even pick up? And if they did, would they let me crash at their place? No, probably not. I’m not their friend. I’m just their plaything. They wouldn’t care about this, and even if they did let me come over, I would be at their mercy. I’d owe them something. My heart, already bottomed out, heaves a heavy sigh of despair.
“I’ll probably just grab a few things and go to a hotel for the night,” I mutter with a frown.
The officer nods in understanding, “That might be a good idea. We’ll interview your neighbors in the morning and see if anyone saw or heard anything.”
“Thanks for your help.” I run my hand over my hair as my attention lands on my open door. “W-would you mind just waiting out here while I grab a bag?”
“Not at all, ma’am.” Officer Fieldward gives me a small smile and steps aside. “Take all the time you need.”
I mumble my thanks again and slip inside. My bedroom wasn’t spared in the break in. My comforter has been brought into the bathroom and shoved into my toilet, the mattress is torn to shreds, and my clothes are scattered about. With tears in my eyes, I quickly grab an overnight bag from my closet and grab a handful of items. I grab some toiletries and throw them into my bag as well.
When I’m done, I step out of my apartment with my bag in tow.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Officer Fieldward asks, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m going to sit in my car and call around to see who has a room. Thanks so much for your help.” I wipe a tear off my cheek.
“Hopefully, with your neighbors’ help, we’ll catch who did this,” he says. “Are you sure it wasn’t an angry boyfriend or a jilted lover? This seems to be an act of passion since nothing looks like it was taken, and you haven’t noticed anything missing.”
I shake my head. “No, there’s no one.”
“Alright, well, get some sleep, Miss Wilson. We’ll call you with any updates.”
With a nod, I trudge down the stairs.
Twenty-Three
I stare down at my phone screen.
Pianna’s number is there, ready to be dialed with just a push of the button. I should be on my way to work, not still sitting on my hotel bed. I’m dressed and ready to go, but my feet are unwilling to take me over to the door. Last night was rough. I got maybe an hour of sleep. The rest of the night I tossed and turned, worrying about who would have broken into my apartment.
My thumb lowers, but still I hesitate. I shouldn’t worry her. Pianna has enough trouble in her life, she doesn’t need to deal with mine. But she’s my best friend and after a crazy evening with Grant and the break in, I just need to talk.
Pianna picks up my call on the second ring.
“Good morning, bestest friend!” she sings as she answers.
I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping my tears at bay. A male voice says something in the background, and it’s followed by a low chuckle. Pianna giggles right along with him. Whatever rough patch they went through, clearly, it’s over. I wish I could be as forgiving and loving as Pianna.
“Hey, do you have a second?” I ask her, my voice no louder than a whisper.
“Of course, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” I can hear the smile fall off her face. Oh, how well I know her.
“I’m fine, it’s just, I need someone to talk to.” My voice breaks on a sob.
“Oh, Briella. Bri, what’s wrong? What happened?”
With that opening, I tell her about the break in last night. But it doesn’t stop there. The floodgates are open, and I need to vent. So I tell her about Jason, and how I’ve been seeing him and his friends Trip and Grant, though I leave out the more scandalous parts. She doesn’t need to know about them being students or about the blackmailing, or the humiliation they put me through. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask. She simply listens. When I’m done talking, she says,
“Damn girl. Three dicks at once? I’m so proud of you!”
At least one of us is proud of me. But her teasing makes me feel better. This feels normal.
Halfway through our conversation, I force myself to leave my hotel room and head to work. I skip breakfast. Just the idea of eating makes me nauseous. Pianna and I continue our conversation the entire commute. By the time I park, I’m feeling better.
“I’m sorry I threw all that on you this morning,” I sigh as I climb out of my car.
“Bri, I’d be upset if you didn’t tell me,” she says. “You’ve been so distant lately. It feels good to know it’s just you being you and that distance isn’t destroying our friendship.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I know her well enough to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“Bri, you do this. You think you can handle the world and shoulder everything. When you take on too much, you start to withdraw and get quiet. You were in your quiet stage. For a while there I thought you’d replaced me, but now it all makes sense.”
Before I can respond, my phone vibrates with an incoming call.
“Oh, Pianna, someone else is trying to get a hold of me. I need to go, it could be the police. Thanks for listening to me.”
“Of course! Give me a call tonight. We’ll get shit faced and watch a movie together or something, ok?”
