Pretty Venom Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Ella Fields

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  FIND ELLA HERE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For the queens who straighten other crowns.

  If you make someone your world,

  do not complain when the ground crumbles beneath your feet.

  Fourteen years old

  “You look stupid.” His top lip curled into a sneer that I wished made him look uglier. But it only made his brown eyes gleam as they darkened and caused my belly to flip. “The bow,” he said as if I hadn’t already caught on with the way his eyes kept zeroing in on it over the past ten minutes.

  “Okay then.” My smile and voice were candy sweet even as my next words soured my tongue. “Well, it’s unfortunate you don’t have a reason to look as stupid as you do. It’s all …” My hand left its perch on my lap, my crossed feet stretching out on the floor in front of me and swinging side to side. I gestured halfheartedly before letting my hand slap back to my lap as though he really wasn’t worth the effort. “Just the way you are.”

  His jaw clenched, but otherwise, he kept his expression neutral.

  The grandfather clock ticked at the other end of the long hall as we stared, our eyes locked in a silent showdown.

  We were seated in a small alcove in the hall outside his family’s game room where our parents were talking behind the door that had been left ajar.

  Upon arriving, I was filled with a sense of annoyance. Why did we have to meet with my father’s best friend from college? Wasn’t it bad enough he’d forced us to move from New York City to this tiny patch of a town?

  No, apparently not.

  Apparently, I had to eat dinner with them. Which was an utter snooze fest. I spent it with my eyes downcast, images of my new sewing machine flitting through my head.

  It was a bribe. I knew one when I saw one. I’d been trained since the age of five to recognize when someone was trying to pull the wool over my eyes. But I’d wanted that machine since it arrived on the market six months before our move to Trellara, the tiny town that sat nestled alongside Gray Springs.

  Along with the sewing machine came half a wardrobe full of new fabric. My parents felt guilty for tearing me away from the prep school friends I had known since I was in kindergarten. Leaving my friends behind would’ve been a real drag, if they were real friends. But I’d played the role of distressed child and gotten what I wanted. The drama classes my mother enrolled me in years ago helped, even if my acting abilities were mediocre at best.

  Even at my age, I knew shallow when I saw it. Takes one to know one and all that. I could be as shallow as they came, and I never denied it. No false pretenses, no hidden agenda. I wanted what I wanted, and when I got what I desired, those things made me smile. Bows, frills, gowns, makeup—it wasn’t just material stuff to me. I enjoyed them. My heart warmed with satisfaction when I wore them.

  I loved what I loved, and I wouldn’t apologize to anyone for it. Especially not Mr. Scowl-a-lot sitting across from me.

  Unease stiffened my limbs, and perhaps it was his fault. Or perhaps it was because that night, as we drove up the long driveway covered in overgrown, curving willows, an unsettling feeling overtook me. It grew worse as my parents encouraged me out of the Town Car and up the steps of the museum-size old cream and gray colonial home.

  And it hadn’t left.

  “… With his royal cheekbones, and God, the jawline. Just like Kian’s.” My mother’s voice grated, high pitched and slightly slurred thanks to the two bottles of red with dinner.

  Callum’s eyes widened marginally, and I barely contained a smile as he figured out what they were talking about.

  “Why are you out here listening?” I finally asked.

  He shifted on the long velvet chaise he was reclined on, one leg falling to the floor with a light tap. “Why are you?” His tone conveyed boredom, nonchalance, but he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want an answer.

  That much was clear about this weird, silent guy. He was the curious type.

  “Not my house. Would you rather I wander around aimlessly?”

  Glasses clinked from inside the room. “…if they had children, they’d get Renee’s beautiful mermaid hair.”

  Callum snorted. “Mermaid hair?” Those dark eyes roamed over it once more. “More like Hagrid hair.”

  “Harry Potter fan?” I asked, clapping my hands quietly with forced excitement.

  All I got in response was a look. A look that said he was ready to either throw something at me or walk away.

  He thankfully chose the latter, sitting up and slowly unfolding his tall, lean frame to stand. Relief rolled over me from head to toe. Nothing was worse than being forced to endure something you didn’t want to, but it was ten times worse having to feign indifference when someone was trying to slay you with their eyes.

  Our parents’ chatter droned on. I didn’t look as Callum walked away but listened as his clipped footsteps faded at the end of the hall.

  For a long minute, I thought he was gone, so I almost jumped when his low, deep, and freshly broken voice traveled to my ears. “They can act stupid over baby showers, names, or marriage proposals, but don’t for one second let any of it go to your head.”

  I kept my eyes trained on the high ceiling with its fancy crown molding, sighing before rolling my head to face him. “Shouldn’t the wedding come before children? Or is that your idea of rebelling?”

  Looking momentarily shocked, even with the distance between us, Callum paused, then took a few steps closer. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mini Mouse. Our mothers are full of themselves. You’d be wise to ignore them, and while you’re at it, ignore me. You don’t know me, and I don’t want to know you. Don’t talk to me at school, hell, don’t even look at me.”

  My eyes narrowed, tiny dots connecting in my head. “Oh, I see.”

  He didn’t want to indulge me by waiting, but I knew he could hear me, my voice trailing after him. “You have a girlfriend? No worries.” I laughed airily. “I don’t really care.”<
br />
  He appeared around the corner. I heard my parents saying their goodbyes, so I slowly stood, smiling at Callum.

  “You don’t care?” he drawled, disbelief dragging the words.

  “I. Don’t. Care.” I beamed, adjusting my baby blue capris that matched the bow in my hair. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last guy in this boring as crap town.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I reiterated.

  A brow rose. “I’m not going to ask why because I don’t really give a damn.”

  “But you do, and I’ll tell you why.” My hands settled on my hips. “You’re a rude, entitled prick who’s either overcompensating for something or has some severe daddy issues. Oh, and I only date blonds.” I raised a brow at his beautiful mop of dark hair for emphasis.

  The door to the game room swung open, and our parents walked out.

  “There you are. I thought I heard your voice.” My dad grinned, the scent of expensive whiskey rolling over me as he curled a heavy arm over my shoulders. “Ready to go?”

  I smiled up at him. “Ready when you are, Daddy.”

  The only difference between my old school and Trellara Prep was that people were less likely to indulge in the things they really liked for fear of retribution. The kind they believed they couldn’t crawl back from on the social ladder. It was a discovery I found disconcerting when I signed up for drama class, only to find a handful of names on the sign-up sheet.

  Though I wasn’t used to their ideals and what they deemed acceptable, I wouldn’t let them stop me from doing what I wanted to.

  Hilda was the first friend I made after discussing the merits of chiffon, silk, sorbet-flavored lip balm, Sailor Moon, and Harry Potter standing in line in the auditorium. Ever since, we’d developed a casual friendship that worked for us both.

  Hilda was half Asian with silky black hair that rained down her back and curtained her heart-shaped face. Her slightly slanted eyes drew you in, her pink, puffy lips and tiny nose giving her an innocence I wasn’t quite sure she deserved. A fierce kind of beautiful was what came to mind when my eyes swept over her small, slender frame for the first time. Her eyes were hazel. The mixture of brown and green prone to glittering when she smiled and dulling when she was annoyed.

  “They want to rehearse again at four,” Hilda informed me as we strode to our lockers.

  “Four?” I sighed, spinning the combination until my locker popped open. “I can’t. My dad has an important dinner guest coming over.”

  My father was the CEO of Grant Holdings, and although we’d moved out of state for him to merge the firm with Kian’s, Callum’s father, and for a “quieter, more peaceful lifestyle,” he and my mother still loved to entertain. Perhaps even more than they did when we lived in New York. It was tiresome, but the food was always worth it. Not to mention the new outfits.

  “So? Just come for a little bit, that way Clarke doesn’t give you the stink eye tomorrow.”

  Clarke gave a mean stink eye to those who didn’t show up for rehearsal, though he didn’t deem it necessary to punish, seeing as most of us were members of the drama club of our own volition. And with the group being as small as it was, he couldn’t afford to scare people away.

  I rearranged the contents of my locker, swapping my history book out for the novel I’d dragged to school with me that morning, then closed the door. “No can do. If I’m not home by normal time, they’ll hassle me until I am, and then I’ll have to endure my mother’s stink eye throughout dinner.” I raised a brow at Hilda. “Which I fear far more than Clarke’s.”

  Indeed, my mother might not be the most nurturing, but she was present, and I knew from watching others with similar families that I was fortunate to have that. Our relationship bordered along the lines of friendship, and no one wanted a friend to be disappointed in them.

  And Valery Grant’s cold shoulder would give you gangrene if you weren’t careful.

  We said goodbye outside. I sat on the steps, watching Hilda walk into the parking lot, then opened my book.

  It was snatched from my hand before I could remove the bookmark. “The Baron’s Lusty Conquest?” Callum squinted at the cover as I shot to my feet. “Aren’t you a little young to be reading smut?”

  Snatching it back from him, I refused to let my cheeks heat as I deposited it into my bag. “Aren’t you a little young to participate in real-life smut?” He said nothing, his lip curling to the right as his dark eyes danced. “And mind your own business. I can read whatever I want.”

  I descended the steps, glancing around and finding no sign of Annie, my driver.

  “Which parts are your favorite?” Callum said from behind me, his warm breath causing my hair to stir and goose bumps to appear. I suppressed a shiver. “Does he rescue a damsel from a dangerous dragon, only to drag her back to his own lair to insert his well-endowed girth inside her warm, wet—”

  “Cal,” Tara’s voice penetrated my burning ears, but even though he’d stopped talking, which I was thankful for, he was slow to step back. “What are you doing?”

  I turned as Tara’s blue eyes shifted back and forth between us. The cheerleader’s smile wavered as she waited for an answer from her boyfriend.

  Callum looked down at me, his brows high on his head as he licked his bottom lip. I held his gaze even though it was doing dangerous things to my stomach. “I caught Renee here reading something a little … risqué.”

  “Risqué?” Tara giggled. “Oh, like, you mean a romance novel?”

  Callum still didn’t look at her. “Uh-huh.”

  “Who cares. Ready to go?”

  Callum’s eyes narrowed, then finally, he looked over at his girlfriend. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have a minor reading such things. Not here at Trellara. They’d never stand for it.”

  A glance at Tara showed me that she was confused, her lips pinching and her brows crinkling. “I read my mom’s books all the time. And hey, what we do isn’t exactly PG.” A blush appeared, followed by her feet shifting.

  Something lodged itself in my throat, but I tried to swallow over it.

  Callum’s gaze returned to me, those eyes unreadable as he said, “Yes, but with her parents being my parents’ best friends, she’s practically family. I think it’d be in her best interest to ensure they know about their daughter’s extracurricular activities. Considering they aren’t exactly age appropriate.”

  My mom had suggested I read it, so I merely raised a brow, not allowing my annoyance to surface. “Double standards much?”

  Tara laughed. “Quit. Seriously, who cares? Are you coming over? Mom’s still out of town.”

  Callum’s perfect teeth slid over his bottom lip, gaze steadfast on mine. “Yeah. Later, Mini Mouse.”

  Annie didn’t arrive for another full minute. And as I watched Callum and Tara walk over to her driver’s car to make out behind it before finally climbing inside, it turned out to be the longest minute I’d ever experienced.

  The next morning, I was immediately called into Principal Farley’s office.

  I stood from my seat in homeroom, ignoring the giggles and whispers surrounding me as I righted my gray blazer and grabbed my backpack.

  The halls were empty save for a few latecomers who scrambled past me and the rows of dark blue lockers. My feet echoed on the shiny, cream floor. My black flats tapped in time with my slowing heart rate.

  I had no idea what I’d been called in for, and I spent the next twelve minutes seated in the waiting area, staring at the gilded clock on the wall, trying to figure out what it could be.

  Perhaps it was drama. Though missing rehearsal when it was a voluntary extracurricular activity wasn’t exactly grounds for getting called to the principal’s—

  Callum.

  Despite our not so great first meeting at the end of summer, he’d kept his distance from me over the short month I’d been here. Why he’d bother to get me in trouble now was beyond my thinking capabilities.

 
; “Miss Grant?”

  I stood at the sight of Principal Farley. Her hair in a tight bun, and her bright blue glasses perched prettily on the tip of her small nose. Her smile was warm, but it did nothing to settle my rattled nerves. “Come in.”

  I did, dumping my backpack between my feet as I took the seat opposite her at her large oak desk.

  “It has been brought to my attention that you may be reading something a little inappropriate, not only for your age but also during school hours.”

  My embarrassment was a swelling hot-air balloon; my cheeks heating so suddenly, I thought they’d burst or catch fire. “Um …”

  She removed her glasses, smiling a tiny smile as she leaned forward over her desk. The neckline on her cashmere blouse gaped, and I thought it was kind of ridiculous that I was getting called in about a romance novel when the principal of one of the most esteemed prep schools in the state dressed like a smutty librarian.

  I mean, it was a great look, but it didn’t exactly seem fair.

  Her manicured hands joined, and I moved my eyes to hers as she said, “I personally love a good romance.” She gave me what I thought was meant to be a wink, but I didn’t quite know if she was trying to be subtle, or if she’d failed. “However, there’s a time and place, and that place is not at school.”

  “I wasn’t reading it here, I swear.” I crossed my ankles to stop my feet from shifting, pulling my shoulders back like my mother always harped at me about. “I was reading it on the way to school and put it in my locker to keep safe until I went home.”

  That was a bit of a lie. I did read it during English when I was supposed to be reading the required material set out for us, but I didn’t think it wise to mention that. In my defense, I’d read To Kill a Mockingbird when I was ten, and then again when I was twelve.

  Principal Farley nodded, reclining back in her chair. “You’re a friend of the Welsh family, are you not?”

  “I am, yes. Our fathers work together.”

  Her pink lips twisted in thought. “Interesting. And you and Callum, you don’t get along?”