Kings of Mercia Academy 1-4: The Complete Bully Romance by Sofia Daniel

Author:Sofia Daniel [Daniel, Sofia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

The next morning, a knowing smile curved Sergei’s lips as he and Andreo sat opposite me at breakfast. One of the bodyguards had brought apricot pastries, and I could barely eat, knowing that Sergei or Andreo had spotted me watching them.

“Ummm…” I bit down on my lip. “Whatever happened with the investigation on your father?”

Sergei’s smile faded, and he shook his head. “Alexander deals with these matters.”

My gaze flicked to the smallest of the bodyguards, a dark-haired man in his early thirties with hair closely cropped to his scalp. “Sorry for bringing up the subject.”

Andreo topped up my coffee from a silver pot, lips quirking into a smile. “Sergei has a concert tonight. Will you accompany us as his beard?”

“Sure,” I said with a relieved breath. This would be the last time I’d bring up the subject of his father’s poisoning.

I spent the next few weeks attending events on Sergei’s arm and appearing in the society pages as his devoted fiancée. Mom didn’t text for details, but Dad kept pestering me with questions until I explained that Sergei was just a friend who wanted to drum up a bit of publicity. The pictures, unfortunately, attached the attention of Edward.

Will you return to Mercia Academy next term?

I stared at the phone and gulped. If he had demanded a meeting in London, I would have agreed, but returning to his territory and to all the people affected by the Correspondent articles would be suicide. I tapped the icon for my banking app. My allowance would arrive in a few days, and it would give me enough for a flight back to New York.

A few days before term started, Sergei took me out in the limo to the Claridge’s Hotel for breakfast. It was a late Georgian building constructed of red bricks that had probably been built around the same time as the Bourneville’s department store. Its grand entrance of white pillars and floor-to-ceiling, art deco windows made me draw in the same awed breath as I had the day the boys had taken me shopping for a ballgown.

As I stepped out of the limo to the crowds of paparazzi, I forced a smile and tried not to think of Henry. I took comfort in Sergei’s large hand on the small of my back and walked through the entrance and into the black-and-white tiled foyer.

The dining room was a huge, magnolia-colored space of smartly-dressed tables, decorated with white roses that matched both the table cloths and the pillars. Hanging from the ceiling was an ornate chandelier of flower-bud shapes and glass spirals that looked more like a sculpture than a source of light. Sergei had booked a table by an arched window, behind which photographers gathered to take pictures of us.

Sergei reached across the table and took my hand in his. “A promoter has offered me a three-month tour of Europe. We leave in two days. Will you come with us?”

I chewed my lip and gazed into his earnest, aquamarine eyes. The

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