Page 4 of Ruse
“Oh, here,” I call out, as a wave of snide laughter and snickers instantly fills the room. Steadily, I turn my head back toward the epitome of sex standing by the door but gone is his sexy smirk and in its place, a torturous scowl that makes a shiver run down my spine for a completely different reason. He’s enraged, his eyes now so dark they’re obsidian, his thick brows creasing in the middle of his forehead, and tattooed knuckles fisted tightly at his side.
What the hell?
Though just as I’m about to turn toward Donovan and see if she’s noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor, Mrs. Phillips continues. “Maverick Carter,” she calls out, her gaze circling around the classroom.
I notice his lips quirk up before I hear him, probably because I haven’t looked away from them since the moment he walked in. “Here,” he utters, not making a move to further enter the room.
Again, simultaneous gasps are heard in the otherwise silent classroom, but I ignore them, completely fixated on his voice. A voice exactly like I imagined it would be, deep, gravelly, and dripping in seduction, making me shiver, and simultaneously raising the hairs on the back of my neck in awareness.
“Well, I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Carter. If you would please find your seat.” Mrs. Phillips finishes taking roll call, while he unhurriedly struts toward the empty desk behind me. I watch in anticipation, my heart beating loud and in sync with his heavy footsteps along the marble tiled floor.
No, no. God no! Why is the universe so cruel? Why did it have to be him?
I feel his daunting gaze burning into me as I try my hardest to keep mine directed at the blond head of the girl in front of me.This cannot be happening. Oh God, please let this be a dream.
I close my eyes and count to ten, hoping the moment I open them back up, I’ll be back in my bedroom once again, awakening to the sound of my alarm clock. After all, I don’t remember sleeping well, I could very much be stuck in a dream.
Though the moment a hot breath tickles my neck as the chair behind me squeaks, I know this is all too real.
“Hey there, sis,” he whispers so only I can hear, his voice now as slick and smooth as silk. Instead of opening my eyes, I shut them tighter, trying my hardest to keep calm. I feel him lean in further. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”
My eyes shoot open as the last syllable leaves his lips, and in my peripheral, I see Olly and Donovan staring behind me with jaws dropped to the floor. Probably exactly what I’d look like if my mouth weren’t shut so tight. If I weren’t biting down on my tongue and drawing blood, I know my jaw would be right there with theirs. Bemused and utterly horrified.
Maverick Carter is sitting behind me, looking like the devilishly sexy, wicked rebel bad boy he is rumored to be. Maverick Carter is my new stepbrother, and I’m afraid hating him just got a tad bit harder than I’d expected.
* * *
“Oh my god,Phoenix, did you see him?” Donovan shrieks, her voice a sharp mix between a yell and a cry, as we walk out of our homeroom and into the buzzing hall. I turn around enough to smack her on her arm, begging her to shut up, just as Maverick struts past us, not bothering to look our way as he pushes through the crowd of students shuffling to their next class.
It was almost impossible to sit still for the hour and a half we were in class, pretending like I wasn’t one hundred percent aware of his bewitching presence. He didn’t talk to me, didn’t toy with me after his attempt at intimidating me when he first sat down, but I knew he was watching my every move. I could feel his gaze on me, sending a wave of heat through me. I’ve never felt that way before, especially not from a simple stare, but Maverick didn’t seem like he was just anyone. He seemed like trouble, and that meant he was going to be a problem.
“Can you not Donovan, he could have heard you,” I whisper snidely, giving the judgmental girls who walk by a fake smile before rushing to the girls’ restroom down the hall, yanking Donovan by her arm to follow.
Though, of course, my chatty best friend doesn’t stop talking. “So, what, I mean he clearly knows who you are…”
“And he doesn’t look thrilled.” Dee’s cut off by Olly as he joins us, locking the door behind him. “I mean, he was practically burning a hole through your head with how laser-focused he was on you P.”
“Oliver Radcliff, you do know this is the girl’s restroom, right?” Donovan berates him, waving her arms in the air.
“Bite me Kennedy, there’s nothing in here I haven’t seen before,” Olly screeches back at her. God, these two are insufferable sometimes. I need to choose better friends.
The restroom is just as impeccable as the rest of the school with a row of six stalls, five sinks with gold fixtures, and a small plush seating area.
“Both of you just shut up!” I slam my fists down on the sink in front of me, turn on the faucet, and splash a handful of cold water on my face before looking up at my reflection in the mirror. Tired blue eyes, swollen and red, long blond hair mocking me, constantly reminding me I look just like her.
A woman who was too weak, too pathetic to move on from her cowardly husband's betrayal.
In our world, affairs like these are as common as a housekeeper, and as frequent as Botox injections after twenty-five. Most women can sweep their husband’s indiscretions under the rug in order to keep up appearances. They forgive and forget, or at least forget long enough to host their next dinner party or for the three hours they spend at the country club. Then it’s back into their separate rooms, in their separate house wings, avoiding each other until the next social event. Rarely does the husband put an end to whatever illicit affair they were a part of, but one thing they never do is ruin a twenty-year marriage because of it.
I guess my father and Mrs. Carter never read the terms and conditions of their marriage contract.
As for my mother, well, it looks like she didn’t take her own advice either.
Since I was old enough to understand my place in our world, to be a priceless accessory on my husband's arm, and a shiny trophy in his million-dollar glass display case, it was always,“Phoenix, you must learn to turn a blind eye to whatever happens outside the walls of your household. As long as your status and wealth are not at risk, anything goes in a loveless marriage.”
Yet here we are, miles apart because she failed to take her own god-awful advice.
“Phoenix, we’re sorry, okay? We didn’t mean to upset you. I guess we just didn’t think he’d show his face around here,” Donovan murmurs, running her fingers through my hair, as a mother would to a child, to calm me down. It doesn’t work.
