A very loud and muffled sound of breathing made its way past the wood door, and it sounded an awful lot like a moan. My head was spinning in different directions, all of which resulted in barging inside my uncle’s office and snapping the fucking phone in my hand, but I fought to keep myself present and grounded. Calculated behavior was better than impulsive behavior. I’d take this little moment and stash it away for a later date and use it to my benefit if it ever came to that.
“That’s right. I am your Daddy,” her uncle finally said after more heavy breathing. “And soon enough, you’ll be home, back where you belong.”
My heart began thumping a little harder at his words, and I didn’t know why. What I did know was that I didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of her leaving and not coming back.
“I will talk with you next Monday. And this time? Don’t be fucking late.” There was a strange sense of awareness as the words trailed from his mouth. Like there was a threat to be delivered. Maybe a silent one.
“I won’t be late,” Gemma answered. “Would you like to speak with Headmaster Ellison before I head up to my room? It’s almost past curfew.”
“No,” her uncle answered sharply. “Go back to your room. You know I don’t like when you break rules. Remember what we say?”
“Good girls don’t break rules.” Then the line went dead.
Just as my uncle and I pulled back from the door, both of us looking equally as perturbed, the loud bang of the phone slamming into the receiver told us all we needed to know.
Gemma’s uncle thought he had her wrapped around his finger, but he didn’t. Because Gemma was angry.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gemma
My entire body twitched as I stood above the headmaster’s mahogany desk with my hand still on the phone. I slammed it so hard onto its
receiver that my arm went numb. His voice was like a million little spiders crawling into my ear and filling my head with unjust lies and bigoted thoughts that only stemmed from years of looming threats and punishments. I hated him. I hated him so much I felt a scream threatening to tear through the empty room. But instead of screaming or taking the globe off the end of the headmaster’s desk and throwing it against the wall, I peeled my fingers away and counted backward from ten until my breathing grew less erratic.
My stomach churned as I continued to replay his words: you’ll be home soon, back where you belong. I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back there. I wouldn’t survive. If this thing with Isaiah didn't work out, I wasn’t sure what I would do.
The money I could probably do without. I would make ends meet one way or another. There would be no other choice, but it was the new identity that was my true ticket. I needed a fake ID with a new name. A way to blend in without raising flags to the officials—the officials that Richard had spent years forming relationships with so they could stay nestled in his deep pocket.
Being a judge came with many perks, and having everyone on your side—police chiefs, fire officials, attorneys, judges, you name it—meant that if I were spotted, I’d be tucked away nicely in a police car and taken right back to Richard himself.
I should know. It happened before.
This was no speculation. It was a very real possibility.
I pushed the heels of my palms into my eyes to force away the frustrated tears before the headmaster walked back into his office. It was already awkward enough that he had heard my uncle insinuating that something was going on with the two of us while on speakerphone. Crying in front of him would only make things worse.
The look on the headmaster’s face flashed across my mind, and he was no less than mortified. But knowing Richard, that was his plan in the first place: embarrass the headmaster and conjure up some power play to show that he was in charge here, not the other way around.
A long, drawn-out breath left my chest just as the door swung open again and in walked Headmaster Ellison. My hands lifted from my eyes immediately, and I tried to force out a smile, which only turned to shock when I watched Isaiah walk in after his uncle.
“Isaiah,” I blurted, startled that he was now standing in the office too.
His lips curved at the sight of me. “Already ditchin’ me for tutoring?”
Shit. I was supposed to meet him outside of the locker room. I darted my eyes around the room, searching for a clock to see what time it was. I was never sure how much time had passed when Richard was involved. Anger and fear seemed to contort my senses, and everything was skewed.
“It’s almost curfew,” Isaiah said, coming a little closer to me. My heart skipped inside my chest at his nearness, and it surprised me. It surprised me that I could feel something other than that lingering fear and resentment that I was always left with after playing the dutiful niece. “Good thing we have the okay to tutor after curfew, yeah?”
The headmaster was standing behind his desk, opposite of Isaiah and me. He eyed us both cautiously before clearing his throat. The red tie around his neck was looser now than it had been when he grabbed me from outside a little while ago. “If anyone gives you trouble for being in the library after curfew, send them to me.” His dark brow rose at Isaiah, like he was silently threatening him, but when he turned toward me, his expression softened. “Same time next week, yes?”
I stared at the headmaster from across his desk for a few moments, eyeing him subtly as the same familiarity that I’d felt on that first day tinged my senses. Maybe I could trust him.
I stilled. No. Don’t trust.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded and quickly turned to look at Isaiah because I was ready to get out of his office with Richard’s voice lingering in the open air. Everything felt tarnished after he spoke. Once I locked onto Isaiah and got over that dip in my stomach that kept happening when he was near, I hesitated.
Trailing past the sharp curve of his cheek and straight jaw, I moved down his tight black tee and found his hands in fists. His posture told me that something was wrong. It was as if he was angry, which was confusing to me—much like earlier when he had leaned in and kissed my cheek before disappearing back down to the field. The more I was with Isaiah, the more I learned just how complex he was. Or maybe it was just that he threw off my senses. I felt so jumbled near him.