Morpheus chuckles. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Juliet,” he says, lifting his knife and cutting into his meat—some sort of beef by the looks of it. “Stuart would be a poor prison guard, but even if I asked it of him—you know this house isn’t meant to be a jail cell for you. It’s a sanctuary. Your haven. So much of Silverwood blames you for your father’s wrongdoings and it’s so sad to see. You are innocent in this whole mess.”
The end of my fork clings against my plate, I’m trembling so hard. Anger surfaces, boiling hot and volatile. I picture sinking the utensil right into his fucking eye and popping it out of its socket.
“If Stuart upsets you, I can have another person brought in. Perhaps one of your girlfriends? Stuart did say that you were quite unwell not long after I left. You must’ve been bored here alone.”
Shoving the bite of potato into my mouth so I don’t have to answer immediately, I chew and swallow by rote. Soon enough, the excuse is gone and I’m forced to come up with something to say. “Like he told you, I was sick.” Lame, but it’s something. I stab a vegetable and bring it to my lips.
Morpheus hums in the back of his throat, cutting his meat into tight little pieces. His attention sears the side of my face as I work on keeping my expression even, disinterested. Several minutes go by in uncomfortable silence with me pretending to taste the food and him cutting his as he watches me.
“I don’t want you to think of this house as a prison, Juliet,” he says after some time. The skin over my shoulders tightens at the sound of his voice after such preferred silence. “I would like to invite someone over for you to speak with. A friend.”
My fingers clench around the handle of my fork. “I don’t have any friends,” I bite out. “Not anymore.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
My head snaps up and my gaze connects with his. Of course he’s staring at me. His eyes practically devour me as he roves from my cheeks and painted lips to the diamond choker wrapped around my throat, hiding a far more offensive secret.What has he heard? Did someone see Lex leave?
“I heard you got along quite well with some girls from the public school,” Morpheus says. “I believe a girl named Roquel was your… what do they call them these days? Student ambassador?”
All of the muscles in my body relax. Not about Lex or the guys then. That’s good.
“She gave me a tour on behalf of Principal Long,” is all I say in response.
Again, he hums as if my answer intrigues him. “Would you like to have her over?” he asks.
My brow puckers and once again, I glance at his face, searching it for any sign of deception or scheming. No matter that I see beyond the surface of what he shows anyone else, that I’ve felt him on top of me, inside of me, taking what wasn’t his to demand while I couldn’t stop it—trying to determine his intentions is nearly impossible now.
His expression remains serene, curious but open as if the two of us really are nothing but a girl and her father’s best friend with a close relationship that they’ve had since childhood. This has always been my problem. He makes me feel as if I’m crazy, as if what I know to be true isn’t real.
“I…” Would it be a good idea to invite Roquel to Morpheus’ house? She might be able to get a message to the Scorpion Kings if I asked her to. She could tell Nolan that I… Well, surely Lex would have told him the truth, right? If that were the case, though, why haven’t they tried to contact me?
My head swims with questions and thoughts. “Don’t you think I should go back to school?” It’s a risk, but surely Morpheus can’t expect that I’ll remain locked up in his house forever.
The easygoing expression falls away from his features and I know I’ve made a mistake the second I see it. My skin turns clammy and sweat beads pop up along the back of my neck.
“I’m not sure that going back to Silverwood Public would be best for you,” he states, spearing one of the bites of meat on his plate with his fork. I watch as he pops it into his mouth and chews. My own stomach rebels at the idea of me actually consuming any more.
“I can’t drop out.” Somehow, I manage to get the words out.
Morpheus shakes his head. “Oh, of course not. A lady shouldn’t let go of her education like that,” he agrees, and for a moment, hope blossoms inside of my chest. “That’s why we have you in online classes, but you won’t be returning to…” He pauses. His upper lip curls back and his nose wrinkles as if he can smell poverty in the room with us. “Publicschool. There are so many distractions and the teachers can’t provide you with the right amount of attention in a place like that.” A sigh escapes his lips. “No, you won’t be returning. If you prove you’re capable of following my house rules, I might consider moving you back to Silverwood Prep. For now, online classes will provide you with more appropriate one-on-one educational learning.”
Capable of following his house rules?My chest pumps with air. Up and down. Up and down as I try to calm my breathing and keep my anger in check.
Pompous ass. Vile. Disgusting. Piece of shit. To him, a school is only as good as its looks and reputation. It’s why Silverwood Prep was even built—the wealthy upper class of town didn’t want their sons and daughters mixing with those of less value in their eyes.
Valuable enough to clean their homes, walk their dogs, wash their cars, but not enough to be seen as actual people. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Morpheus that people like Principal Long, like Cory, or even the guys’ coach are ten times better than he ever will be. They don’t need money and billion-dollar homes to be good people. They prove it every day they show up and help those around them.
“Do I get a say in my own education?” Despite the fact that I warn myself against angering the man sitting next to me, the question spits out before I can stop it.
Morpheus pauses, his fork half lifted to his mouth, and instead of finishing the path, he lowers it back to his plate and turns to look at me. “Of course, you do.” His lips curve downin disapproval. “I understand you thought you had no other options before, but now you’re back where you belong. You’ll make the right choices, Juliet. You always have.”
“Like the choice to live here?” I prompt. “With you?Imade that choice?”
He releases his utensils entirely and leans back. For a moment, the two of us just sit there in tense silence. Then, he reaches down, lifting the cloth napkin from his lap to dab at the corners of his mouth. I nearly flinch when, at the flick of his fingers, he sends it overtop his plate.
“If you’re insinuating that I somehow forced you to make the appropriate decision to move in with me while your father faces his trial and your mother is away,” he begins, gaze hardening. “Then I’d like to remind you that I always gave you options, darling.”
Those options hadn’t been choices at all. It was either let him take me or face the court system, let Nolan’s mom lose her job, and watch the guys get arrested. There was no choice. I did what I had to. I always will for them, even now.
