Page 63 of Reign of the Queen
I wake with a start, the dream so vivid I can still feel the heat of the fire on my arms. The space around me is covered in darkness, the only light coming from the moonlight tracing across the large windows and the tv which is on the Netflix menu. I hear the sound of the garage door opening and then shutting. That must be what woke me. I look at my phone; it’s past midnight. Sitting up from the sofa, I fell asleep on. I watch my mom’s shadow enter from the mud room heading for the kitchen.
“Mom?” I call out.
She lets out a scream and jumps in the air. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Amelia, you scared ten years off my life just now. Why are you hiding in the dark trying to give me a heart attack?” She turns on the hallway lights and backtracks into the living room.
“I fell asleep on the sofa, mom. I’m not out here trying to scare you.” I take her in; she looks like she’s coming back from dinner or a date. Her beautiful frame is encased in a light silver silk romper, her dark hair in a high sleek ponytail draping down her back, and she’s wearing my gold strappy Jimmy Choo’s, if I’m not mistaken. “Where have you been, mom?”
She crosses the room and sits down on the chair opposite me, putting her feet still encased in my Jimmy Choo’s on the coffee table, her face partially covered in shadows. “Dinner Amelia, I went into Heartweight for dinner with a new friend.
“A newmalefriend?” I raise an eyebrow. Heartweight is two towns over, so at least she’s keeping them out of Casbury.
“Might be. Does it matter, Amelia?” She looks over at me.
“Mia. It’s Mia. Amelia doesn’t exist anymore; I’ve told you, and I’m not going to keep telling you.” I huff in frustration.
“Pity, I liked her better.” My mom lets out sarcastically.
“I’ll bet you did. She was easier to control.” I smirk. “Yes, it matters about the men. You do realize Grandmother Stella is keeping tabs on you, right?”
“You mean the shadow that trails me everywhere? Yeah, Mia, I realize your psychotic adopted grandmother is having me followed.” She groans.
“Don’t you worry she’s going to cut you off completely, mom? Why are you trying to anger her?” I inquire.
I’ve never understood what happened between the two of them. My stepfather Jared truly loved my mom, and I believe she truly loved him too. Grandmother Stella on the other hand… Well, she believes my mom was solely after Jared’s money right from the beginning and can’t reconcile herself to the fact that he knew he was sick and didn’t tell anyone, not even my mom, until it was almost too late. The two of them have been at war with each other since the moment the oncologist announced that Jared had only a few months to live.
The fact that he changed his will at the last moment and left everything only to Isabella and me, hasn’t ever sat right with my mom. She lives off the spousal support that was set out in her prenup with Jared and is at the mercy of Stella’s harsh, unyielding discretion.
“Won’t matter soon enough, Am...Mia.If what I hope happens, I won’t need your Stratford money or your grandmother’s permission for anything. I’m seeing a new man just as rich as the Stratford’s, and hopefully, I will be his wife shortly.”
“Mom! What the fuck are you talking about?” I screech at her, anger instantly rising in me.
“Language Amelia. I raised you better.” She stands up from the chair and saunters toward the room’s entrance, giving me her back. “I’m looking to get married again. I don’t want to live under your grandmother’s thumb anymore, and I have no intention of returning to being poor.” She gives me a sly smile over her shoulder. “Looks like you’re getting a new stepdaddy soon enough, Mia.”
With that statement, she walks out of the room, and I can hear her making her way up the stairs and to her wing of the house.Great, now I have to look into and worry about which schmuck my mom is hooking up with and is thinking of marrying.If she was hoping to convince anyone she wasn’t a gold digger before, this isn’t going to do it.
I shake my head and look down at my phone. There’s a message from a number I don’t recognize. I open it up warily; only a few people have this number.
I’m sorry. Please don’t run from me. -T.
Theo. I can’t seem to escape you. Not in my waking hours and not in my nightmares. I drag my ass up to my room and bed. Tomorrow is another day, and at this point I have no idea what I will do about the kings, Theo, and now my mom’s bullshit. Maybe I should forget all this crap and take myself back to Manhattan. My life wasn’t this complicated there.
I recheck my phone; there’s still no response from Mia. It took paying a guy in a neighboring town to hack into the school records system to get her number for me last night, so I could send her that message. It’s seven a.m.; school starts at eight-thirty. There’s no way she didn’t see it by now. She’s just fucking ignoring me.
I haven’t slept a wink. The stress of this situation and not knowing if Mia’s okay kept me up. What she plans on doing with the bomb she now has is making my mind go nonstop. I couldn’t bring myself to head back to my hell of a house last night, so I headed to meet up with Finn after he spoke with Mia and ended up spending the night in his pool house.
I tend to spend more time here than I do in my own house. It’s been like that since we were kids. Finn’s stepdad Jack made sure we all knew that this was a safe place to come to and that no questions would ever be asked if we came here. I know Finn knows how lucky he is with a dad like Jack. He’s seen firsthand the monsters that are raising Carter and me.
“Any word?” Carter groans from the entrance of the other bedroom.
“Nothing.” I run my hands through my disheveled hair, looking up as Carter walks into the room in just his dark green boxers. I can see the new bruises his father has left on his shoulders, already purple and dark, and it looks like he has a blooming bruise half hidden by all his ink on his ribs.
The new ink he got a few days ago is healing on his hip and lower stomach, this one of a black tribal inked raven. Most of his back and arms are already covered with black and colorful swirls. He’s going to run out of skin if he keeps going at this rate.
I often wonder if Carter’s addiction to getting ink sprawled all over his body isn’t in part to help camouflage all the bruises and marks his dad constantly leaves on him. He’s not moving as rigidly as yesterday. Then again, I watched him do two lines of coke and smoke a blunt large enough to down an elephant last night. It would be a wonder if he weren’t still high.
“Coffee?” Finn walks in from the main house carrying a tray full of cups, his no doubt of a goddess mom has made for us.
“Yeah, man.” I make room on the sofa for him to bring them over.
