Page 2 of Ella's Masquerade
“Because they are,” I replied sweetly. “It used to belong to Ryan.” The bitchy princess couldn’t wear an outfit more than five times, despite it being a fucking uniform. And so I often inherited her hand-me-downs. Which would be fine if we had similar proportions. But she was curvy, while I had my mother’s tall, willowy figure.
“A shame,” he drawled. “I’d love to see more of the figure beneath.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. How about later tonight?”
His lips curled. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
I matched his grin with one of my own. “Never going to happen, Sir Dickenstein.” I blew him a kiss.
“We both know it would if I actually wanted it to,” he replied, completely unfazed. “But no one wants to touch unwashed goods.” He released my hair and wiped his hand on his pressed pants. “Try showering in the morning. I hear that helps.”
I had showered this morning.
Then my stepmother had assigned me a last-minute task before school, which left me no time to wash up afterward.
Hence the foliage in my hair.
While I adored the autumn colors, I hated the chores that came with it. Because heaven forbid we have leaves in our yard. Why my stepmother bothered to keep all the trees on our property was beyond me. She clearly disliked them and the wildlife they brought into the yard.
He picked a leaf out of my hair and threw it in my face. “You’re filthy.” He tsked. “Pretty sure that goes against the dress code.”
I snorted, eyeing the display of tanned skin at his neckline. “So does not wearing a tie.”
“I put it to a better use,” he murmured, innuendo deep in his tone. “Not that I’d expect you to know anything about it.” He leaned in close. “But maybe I’ll demonstrate on you sometime. Deflowering virgins can be fun.”
I canted my head to the side. “You think you could?” I asked, feigning innocence. “Because I could use a good mentor.” I pretended to consider him. “Hmm, no, sorry. Chuckie Cheesy just isn’t my style.”
He narrowed his gaze, his playfulness slipping behind the callous mask I knew so well. “You’re all about the nicknames today, aren’t you,Isabella?”
“Well, when the shoe fits,” I replied, shrugging.
He gripped my chin, bringing his nose to mine.
My heart skipped a beat, his nearness souring my stomach.
I hated when they touched me.
But they did it often, treating me like a chew toy they could stomp beneath their boot. No one ever did anything about it. Not even when their grip bruised—such as it did now.
The administrators at this esteemed academy cared more about their budgets than their students. I was just a charity case, someone lucky to be here. It didn’t matter that it wasmyfather’s money that paid the bills. No. He was dead, leaving Clarissa in charge of his estate.
“Careful, Cindersoot,” Charlie warned, his lips falling to my ear. “Push me and I’ll push back.”
He released my chin to place his palm between my breasts and gave me a shove that sent my chair back a foot.
“You reek,” he snapped, standing upright and sneering at me. “Stay back there. The rest of us value our sense of smell.” With that, he turned and approached a horde of giggling girls and smirking guys.
Our audience.
Yeah, enjoy the show,I thought, scooting my chair loudly back to my seat.
Because fuck him and his command.
He either didn’t hear me move or didn’t care. Likely the latter. His bullying attempt for today was done, making him the center of attention. The king lording over his minions.
At least Dash wasn’t in this class. Handling both princes of this kingdom created quite the headache.
Everyone fell silent, sending a chill down my spine.
