Ivy, page 2
Ivy blinked. “Pardon?”
“My food. I don’t want it to be in her way or intrude on her workspace.”
“Why would you need to buy food?”
“To eat?” Why was this a question?
Ivy shook her head. “Francis will insist on cooking for you too. It’s included with your rent.”
For the second time in the span of an hour, Cassia’s jaw dropped. “Huh?”
There was no way her rent would cover the space and meals. What sort of game was this, take in the poor girl? Her pride prickled, and she wished she could afford it.
Ivy gave her a kind smile, stepping closer. “Here’s the truth. We don’t really need a roommate to cover expenses.”
“No kidding,” Cassia deadpanned.
Ivy’s smile widened. “Elora and I like having another person here. It makes it a little less lonely. Our last roommate left on short notice, which is why the room came open. But if I put out an ad for free rent, who knows the type of person we’d get. And I guess I figured that if someone was paying a little, it would make the place feel more like their own.”
“I do want to pay.” Even if her measly rent only covered the cost of floor wax, she’d been raised to contribute.
“Then this is perfect.” Ivy clapped her hands. “Besides, I like you already, and it’s too late to get a new place before classes start Monday. So lucky for me, you’re stuck with us.”
“Trapped in a fancy manor. I suppose I can make do.” Cassia laughed and the knot in her gut loosened, just a little.
Ivy’s watch dinged and she glanced at the screen. “Shoot. I’m due at a nail appointment in fifteen minutes. Are you going to be okay?”
“Of course. Thank you so much for renting me the room.” Whatever Ivy’s reasons, Cassia was grateful for a home, even if it was only temporary.
“You’re welcome. See you later?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Okay.” She waved. “Bye.”
Cassia waited until Ivy had walked out of the kitchen before drawing in a long breath. On her exhale, she laughed. “Oh my God. How is this happening?”
She got turned around twice before finding the foyer. Her hand was outstretched for the front door’s handle when it pushed open and Geoff walked in with one of her suitcases in his hand.
“Oh, shoot. You didn’t need to do that. But thank you.” She snatched it from his grip. “You don’t have to help. I can handle it.”
“It’s my pleasure.” His voice was as tight as his smile as he turned and strode for the car again.
“Uh . . .” She rushed past him to the trunk of the Honda, loading up as many bags as she could strap over her shoulders. Her lungs burned by the time she had them in her room, passing Geoff with the last load.
“If that’s all, you may park your vehicle in the lot behind the house,” he said, setting down the last suitcase.
“Sure.” Her chest heaved as she nodded. “Thank you.”
He spun on a heel and left.
If Geoff’s cold shoulder was the worst of her problems, she’d manage fine.
Cassia rushed to her car and followed the driveway around the manor to where six garage bays were closed. She parked outside, locking the doors on the Honda—her dad’s Honda—wishing it weren’t so out of place. Then she hurried to her bedroom, working quickly to unpack.
Besides her clothes and toiletries, all she’d brought were a laptop, three books and a handful of photos. After she hung her last sweater on a wooden hanger, she took a step back to survey the enormous walk-in closet. It had been built for a designer wardrobe, with shelves and drawers and rods for miles. All she had to offer it were thrift-store finds and discount jeans.
A wash of sadness filled her, but she shoved it aside and zipped her empty suitcases, stashing them in a corner before retreating to the bedroom.
One step through the closet’s door and she froze.
A woman sat on the bed. Her black hair hung in sleek, shiny panels to her waist. She had to be Cassia’s age but the freckles across the bridge of her nose and petite frame made her seem younger. Except there was nothing youthful about her dark eyes. They gave her an edge. So did the blank look on her pretty face.
Cassia had never seen an expression so entirely void.
“Uh, hi? Who are you?”
“Elora.” She spoke the word like it was obvious.
“Oh, of course.” Cassia relaxed and waved. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cassia.”
Elora stood, walking closer. Her strapless black top was tucked into a pair of slim black pants. On her feet were six-inch heels that lifted her to Cassia’s height of five nine. “So you’re the new candidate.”
“Excuse me?”
“The candidate. For the trials.”
“Trials?” What the fuck is this girl on? “You mean like at school? Tests? Do you call them trials at Aston?”
Elora shook her head. “No.”
Cassia waited, expecting more of an explanation, but Elora offered none. Just that same empty expression.
“Well . . . this has been fun.” She forced a smile. “But I’d better finish unpacking. I’m sure we’ll see each other later. Have a good afternoon.”
There was a sharpness to her tone. Not the best way to speak to a new roommate, but she was exhausted and had no desire to play this strange little game.
The corner of Elora’s mouth turned up. “I think I like you.”
And I think you’re insane. “Super.”
“You might be the one who makes it, Cassia.”
“Make what? The trials? Is that your thing? Like a hazing to live here?”
“Oh, not mine. Ivy’s. Didn’t she tell you? You’re the new toy.”
Cassia’s head began spinning. “W-what?”
“Word of advice,” Elora said. “She’s used to getting her way. Don’t let her win. It’ll be much more entertaining if you put up a fight.”
Without another word, Elora crossed the room, her strides full of grace and poise. The sound of her heels on the hardwood was no match for the pounding of Cassia’s heart.
Trials? Ivy’s toy?
No way. Ivy had seemed so sincere and sweet. This had to be a joke. Dread churned in her veins. That knot in her gut twisted tighter than ever.
So why did she have this feeling that she’d just traded one hell for another?
two
“Miss Elora.” Geoff knocked on her office door.
She glanced up from her laptop as he hovered by the threshold. “Yes?”
“You have a delivery.” One swift nod and he was gone, disappearing to wherever it was that Geoff disappeared to. He avoided them all, but in particular, he avoided Elora.
She appreciated that about Geoff. And she liked Francis for the same reason. Both strived to blend into the walls, and if they did cross paths, they gave her a wide berth.
Elora shut her laptop, not wanting to risk that anyone would see her emails. Yes, Geoff kept to himself and seldom came into her rooms, but she still didn’t trust him. After all, he worked for Ivy. And Elora had learned a long time ago not to trust her best friend.
She strode down the hallways, in no rush as she made her way to the foyer. She knew what was waiting at the door.
The delivery guy was wearing a beanie and holding a vase of white roses. A beanie? In August? The temperature was in the triple digits. Her father’s favorite floral shop must have been desperate if they’d hired this idiot.
“Hey.” He jerked his chin, not even trying to disguise his perusal as he looked her up and down. He was probably her age, early twenties. The cocky grin that stretched across his mouth was as ridiculous as his hat. “These must be for you.”
Elora stopped three feet away and nodded to the table against the wall.
He blinked.
She blinked back.
“Oh, right. These are heavy.” He rushed to set down the vase. “So, uh—”
She walked to the table, lifted the bouquet and, without a word, retreated to her office. The beanie-wearing dumbass could show himself out.
Her side of the house was utterly still. There weren’t many people who enjoyed silence. They found it uncomfortable. But she enjoyed the quiet. If she had something to say, she said it. Otherwise, she was content to keep her mouth shut and watch the weak squirm. She also enjoyed making people wriggle from time to time.
After setting the roses on her desk, she plucked the card from the flowers, pulling the note from its envelope.
LOVE YOU - DAD
He spoke in shouty caps, unlike Elora, who preferred one-word answers whenever possible.
The scent of the roses lured her in until her nose brushed the silky petals. The peonies he’d sent last week had wilted, so she’d had them tossed out yesterday. Somehow, Dad always knew how long her flowers would last. Or maybe his sixth sense was knowing when his daughter needed a fresh arrangement to brighten her day.
After another long inhale, she resumed her chair and cracked her laptop open again, scanning the email she’d spent an hour drafting. Her finger hovered over the touchpad, ready to hit send.
Depending on the outcome, there was a chance she’d need to swap roles with her dad and send something to brighten his day for a change. Flowers wouldn’t be enough. Maybe she’d help him drink a bottle of his favorite Macallan single malt.
Her finger tapped send. The sound was like the slam of a gavel. Then came a whoosh as the email burst through cyberspace.
God, I could use a drink.
Maybe this theory of hers was nothing. Maybe her paranoia had reached new bounds. Maybe her mother had fucked her up so thoroughly that she suspected everyone was lying.
Or maybe she was simply pragmatic.
Nearly every person in her life was a liar and a cheat.
Elora slammed the laptop closed and squeezed her eyes shut. It was done. Now all she could do was wait for the investigator to do his job.
She shot out of her chair and strode from the office, retreating to her suite and closing the door. Her heels sank into the plush carpet as she passed through the sitting room, then plopped on the end of her bed.
School started Monday. This summer had been nothing but a string of endless days with nothing to do but let her fears swallow her whole. Monday seemed like an eternity away.
If she’d had the courage, she would have sent that email months ago. It had taken the entire summer to work up the nerve.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent Dad a quick thank-you text for the flowers, then opened Instagram. The top photo in her feed was of her brother playing basketball. Elora smiled for the first time all day.
Lucas was thirteen, and their eight-year age difference meant that she’d been partly a sister and partly a parent. Maybe another girl would have resented being the one to care for him after school, but she adored her brother. It had been no hardship to help Lucas with his homework because their mother had been too stoned to function and their dad had often worked late.
They relied on each other. Lucas was the best and most important person in her life. If not for her mother, she might have lived at home for college just to stay close to her brother.
She hit the heart on his photo, then closed the app. She didn’t care to see anyone else’s photos. Well, there was one person, but he didn’t believe in social media. The idea of him taking a selfie was enough to make even Elora Maldonado laugh.
The door to her bedroom burst open and Ivy swept inside. “Did you see her?”
“Knock,” Elora clipped.
Ivy flicked her wrist. “Next time.”
Liar. She would never knock. This was Ivy’s house. And Elora was merely a guest, even though she’d lived here for three years.
If Elora didn’t love her suite so much, she’d move out simply to see Ivy’s reaction.
Clarence Manor had been in Ivy’s family for five generations, and the day Ivy had been accepted to Aston was the day she’d claimed it as her own. The two of them had been friends since kindergarten at Aston Prep. Elora had considered pledging a sorority their freshman year, but Ivy had convinced her to live at the manor instead.
It had been for the best.
Ivy created just as much drama as a sorority house, and Elora would have suffocated living with that many women.
Being roommates with Ivy was risky, but she was a known quantity. And Elora was a Maldonado. Her father had taught her long ago to hug her enemies close.
Not that Ivy was necessarily her enemy. But grenades were built to detonate. There was always the chance that the pin would shake loose and boom. Decimation.
Ivy Clarence made a beautiful bomb.
“Well?” Ivy walked to the bench seat at the window, glancing outside to the garden. “Did you see her?”
“Cassia. She has a name.”
“Whatever.”
“Yes, I met her. I like her hair.” And Elora liked the promise of Cassia’s spirit.
“That coral is an interesting shade.” Most would think that was an insult. But they didn’t know Ivy. Her compliments were always disguised as critiques.
“Why don’t you leave this one alone? We can enjoy a peaceful senior year.”
Ivy scoffed. “That’s no fun. Besides, I think Cassia might be different than the others. I guess we’ll find out.”
The glint in Ivy’s eyes used to give Elora a little thrill. Like when the lights in the theater dimmed before a compelling show. But after three years of the same game, that devilish look only made her tired.
Three years of watching Ivy test and torment their temporary roommates had grown old. Maybe because the ending had always been the same.
Ivy’s greatest pleasure came from pushing people. From seeing how far they’d let her shove. Usually, it was out the front door.
“Are we friends because I don’t put up with your bullshit?” Elora asked.
“Yes.” Ivy spoke with no hesitation.
Maybe Cassia would be different. Elora had seen a spark in the woman’s hazel eyes this afternoon. A steel that none of her predecessors had possessed.
“I think she’ll last a month.” Ivy toyed with a lock of her shiny blond hair. “Want to bet on it?”
“No.”
Her lips thinned. “You’re irritable today.”
Elora arched an eyebrow.
“Okay, you’re irritable every day,” Ivy corrected. “But especially today.”
Because Elora had more important things to consume her life than harassing their newest roommate.
“What are you doing tonight?” Ivy asked, inspecting her nails. She’d swapped last week’s sage green for sea-foam. Green, in any shade, was Ivy’s signature. She’d no doubt ruined the color for many.
“Nothing,” Elora answered. “I want to stay home.”
“Great. We’re going to the club. Leave at nine.” As quickly as she’d swept into the room, Ivy was gone.
Then Elora let herself smile.
Ivy thrived on being in control. She made the rules and set the pace. It was almost too easy to manipulate her. To make her think that going to the club tonight was actually her idea.
Nine o’clock was hours away, but when Elora went to the club, she always looked her best. She had her reasons. So by the time darkness had fallen beyond the windows and Ivy had returned to her room—again without a knock—Elora stood in front of her mirror, the hours primping well spent.
“You look . . .” Ivy’s gaze narrowed at Elora’s outfit. “Beige isn’t really your color.”
In Ivy speak, that meant she looked hot. Too hot. “Afraid I’ll get the first look when we walk through the club’s door?”
Ivy smirked. “Yes.”
“Deal with it.”
“Fair enough. You can have the first look.” Ivy ran a hand down the bodice of her emerald, satin minidress. Green really was her color. “I’ll take the rest.”
Fine by me. Elora didn’t desire attention from the masses. No, she was dressed to catch a specific gaze.
Her corset top was only a couple of shades darker than her skin. It hugged her torso and accentuated her small breasts. She’d paired it with a black leather pencil skirt and her favorite Jimmy Choo stilettos.
She swept her clutch from the bed, tucking it under an arm, then strode past Ivy. They fell into step as they walked through the foyer. Outside in the loop, Ivy’s town car was waiting, her driver standing stoically beside the open rear door.
Ivy acknowledged him with a nod before sliding into the back seat. Elora did the same. This driver was new as of last week. Jason? Jaxon? If he lasted through the fall, she’d ask his name.
While Ivy was fiercely loyal to Geoff and Francis, her drivers were expendable. If they drove too fast or swerved recklessly, she fired them in a snap.
Elora couldn’t blame her. After everything that had happened to her friend, she understood Ivy’s motives.
The driver—Jaron?—didn’t ask for their destination, but simply climbed behind the wheel and pulled away from the manor.
Elora glanced to the second-floor windows. “You didn’t invite Cassia?”
“I did. She declined.” The irritation in Ivy’s voice was as clear as the town car’s windshield.
Score another point for Cassia. People rarely turned Ivy down.
She typically put on the sweet and bubbly act during the first week of a new roommate’s stay. Then she’d flip the switch and reveal her true colors. Maybe that was why Elora had warned Cassia. Because she was tired of the on and off.
Ivy had chased away six women since freshman year. Elora hadn’t been sad to see any of them go, especially the first, but their house had a reputation now. Anyone who’d been at Aston long enough knew to pass up Ivy’s classified ads.
But Cassia was fresh blood. She’d learn soon enough.
Ivy smoothed the skirt of her dress and adjusted the thin straps. The neckline draped low, revealing plenty of cleavage. The skirt was asymmetrical and rose high on one thigh, nearly to her hip.
Elora had taunted her earlier, but the truth was, Ivy turned heads. It wasn’t only the blond hair, blue eyes and beautiful face that captured attention. It was her energy. Everything about Ivy oozed wealth and power. And beneath the stunning exterior was an undercurrent of the unattainable.
