A Love that Endures Read online

  Alexei had been her first boyfriend, and they’d been together for over three years. They’d explored the world together. Shared times that, even now, she would struggle to forget. Bonded in ways she’d thought had made them unbreakable. She had never felt so swept up by anyone in her life, and she had been so sure that he felt the same about her, too.

  Then, last summer, she had caught him behind the sauna with his pants down, screwing the family housemaid.

  Not a good look, man!

  It had shaken her world to the core, given how unequivocally—and stupidly—she had trusted him. It was the reason she had moved to America and enrolled at Harvard in the first place: to escape his lying, cheating ways and move on with her life.

  Yet here he was, not even a year later, trying to lure her right back into it all—with a cheesy letter no less—even when he knew she wanted nothing more than to forget his face.

  The thought alone was enough to throw her into a dark, sugar-craving mood.

  Katy grabbed the letter and tore it to shreds over the trashcan, then strode toward Cassie and started helping her with the frosting.

  “What I don’t get is how he even knows you’re here,” Cassie remarked, licking at a smudge of cream cheese on her wrist. “Maybe he hacked your phone’s location somehow.”

  Katy shook her head, more irritation bubbling to the surface. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I mean, I blocked his number, so he couldn’t have done it through a phone or text conversation.”

  Not even the paparazzi—or any of the girls who shared Cassie and Katy’s house—knew Katy’s true identity as the famed Princess of Lorria. Although the country was the smallest in Europe, it was still influential, and Katy had to be cautious.

  Katy groaned, realization suddenly dawning. “I’ll bet you anything my parents had a hand in it.”

  Of course they would have. It should have been the first thing she thought of. They hadn’t been pleased to find out he’d cheated on her, of course, but that hadn’t stopped them from asking her to give him a second chance. They had always believed that Alexei, being from a powerful Russian family, would be an ideal match in marriage.

  Ugh. The nerve of them, too.

  “Hey, don’t squish that cupcake so hard,” Cassie chided. “You’re making it crumble in two!”

  Katy grudgingly loosened her grip and proceeded to frost, while Cassie made her way over to the sink.

  After washing her hands, she pulled up a stool and sat down, tentatively glancing at Katy.

  “What?” Katy mumbled, catching her cousin’s eye.

  Cassie’s gaze wandered across the table toward the envelope the letter had come in—along with a small box, which Katy had almost forgotten about with all the frantic baking.

  “You planning to open that thing or what?” Cassie asked.

  Katy stared at the box for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she considered the question. Then she blew out a sigh and dropped the cupcake, wiping her hands on her apron. “I guess,” she grumbled, slinking around the table toward it.

  As she picked it up and opened it, her frown turned into a grimace. She immediately regretted opening it at all.

  Inside lay a bracelet encrusted with sapphires and diamonds, alongside another damned piece of paper with Alexei’s handwriting on it. This one was much shorter, though no less vexatious.

  “Diamonds for my diamond.”

  Hurt and anger washed over her. She’d told him repeatedly when they were dating that expensive jewelry meant nothing to her, and yet here he went again, trying to win her back with that very thing. He didn’t know her at all. Or, more like, didn’t care to know her.

  “We’ll give it to charity,” Katy spat, dropping the bracelet back into its packaging and pushing the box away with such force it skidded across the table.

  Cassie lunged forward and grabbed it before it could reach the edge, and Katy paused in her tirade as she noticed the expression on her cousin’s face.

  Cassie gazed down at the box longingly. “You should’ve just let Alexei keep buying you expensive gifts,” she murmured. “After all’s said and done, you were lucky to have a guy who cared about you enough to try and woo you.”

  Katy immediately sensed the note of bitterness in her cousin’s voice, and her heart ached for Cassie. She realized then how insensitive she was probably being, dragging out this whole ex-boyfriend subject over an entire evening. After all, Cassie had been just as unlucky in the love department. Much more so, in fact. Katy knew her cousin’s scars ran far deeper than her own.

  She moved over to the smaller girl and took her by the shoulders, squeezing gently and giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Cass. You’ll capture the attention of a good man someday. There are guys out there much better than the likes of Alexei . . . or that douchebag Jason.”

  Cassie’s hazel-brown eyes warmed at that, and though a tinge of bitterness still lingered there, the overriding emotion was hope, which was the effect Katy had been hoping to have.

  A creak sounded, and the two girls whirled toward the kitchen door to see a curvy brunette stride in. It was Michelle, one of the few upperclassmen who shared their building.

  “And what are we chatting about in here?” she asked. Her eyes widened as they passed over the rows of cupcakes. “Good grief, don’t let me near those. I feel like I’ve gained two pounds just looking!” She moved over to the sink for a glass of water.

  Cassie sighed. “We’re talking about men.”

  Michelle turned back around to lean against the counter with her glass, arching a manicured eyebrow. “Oh. Men. Well . . . you’ll both want to start flaunting your natural attributes more if you want to be attracting one of those.” At this, she flashed Katy a wry grin.

  The blood rose to Katy’s cheeks. “I would rather not attract a guy for the wrong reasons,” she replied, feeling suddenly flustered. She turned away from the older girl and reclaimed her seat at the table.

  Michelle’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m all for that, hon. But the way you dress, it’s like you’re actively trying to repel them.” She took another sip from her water, then giggled, placing a hand in front of her mouth to stop it from spurting out.

  “You in particular, Katy. I mean, girl, you know I say this with love, but that turtleneck thing the other night, at Jessica’s party . . . seriously? You’ll never earn your ‘Mrs.’ degree going around dressed like that. If that was the first time I’d met you, I’d say you were a huge prude!”

  Ouch. That hurt Katy more than she would like to admit. Her gaze shot to her lap, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it still.

  Michelle, an overly talkative girl in general (per Katy’s tastes) and the oldest in the house, had a penchant for generously distributing unwanted advice. But she wasn’t the malicious type and didn’t really deserve a snappy response.

  Still, it hurt.

  Yes, that particular dress Katy had worn to Jessica’s had been a rather poor choice, in hindsight. But old habits die hard. Katy had spent her entire childhood and adolescence wrapped in traditional Lorrellian clothing—as was expected of a member of the royal family—and for females, that boiled down to ankle-length dresses with high necklines.

  She and Cassie had gone on numerous shopping sprees to try to shake the conditioning since arriving in America, and while Cassie seemed to be embracing normal-people’s fashion fairly well, Katy still found herself subconsciously gravitating toward the most modest pieces. It was a work in progress.

  But as for being a “prude” . . . she swallowed hard at that.

  Truth be told, a little voice at the back of her head had accused her of being just that, on more than one occasion, over the past few years. It went back to another long-held tradition of Lorrellian royalty: no lovemaking until marriage.

  Which was the whole reason Alexei had cheated on her.

  “Anyway,” Michelle went on, breezing past the girls as she headed back toward the door, “I wanted to let you kno
w there’s a party tonight at the Wolf Club. All the girls in this house are invited.” She turned once she reached the frame and winked at them. “I hear there are some real hotties in that house, so probably not one to miss. And if you want some wardrobe advice, just come to my room and I’ll fix you up.”

  With that, she padded out of the kitchen, leaving the girls staring after her.

  “Oh my God. We’ve got to go!” Cassie exclaimed after a split second. “Who knows who’ll be there at the Wolfs’? I’ve heard so much gossip about their parties. It’ll be wild—the perfect distraction!”

  Katy’s stomach churned. Meeting a houseful of horny drunk guys really wasn’t what she had planned for the evening. She’d been thinking more pajamas, Netflix, and an hour-long bubble bath.

  She looked between Cassie and the door . . . then shoved a whole cupcake into her mouth.

  3

  David

  Harvard would be the death of him.

  David rubbed at the swollen lump on his middle finger, formed by too many hours of holding a ballpoint, and looked back down at the spread of books scattered across his desk. It was late, and his brain was starting to feel less like an organ and more like a sack of Jell-O packed between his ears, but he wasn’t nearly prepared enough for his impending exams.

  He blew out a slow breath and slouched back over his copy of American Politics Through the Twentieth Century, willing his eyes to cooperate. Just a couple more hours, and he’d allow himself to hit the pillow. Just a couple. More. Hours . . .

  A pair of heavy hands clamped down on his shoulders. He jerked upright, but his chair tipped backward, slamming him onto the floor with a painful thud. Before he could glimpse his attacker’s face, a second set of hands pulled him upright and came around his head with a blindfold.

  “What the—” He brought his hands up to bat it away, but then the hands grabbed his arms, pressed a knee sharply between his shoulder blades, and wrestled his wrists together behind his back. Another heavy grip joined his ankles; he felt the scrape of rope against his flesh there, too.

  “Are you ready for your true test of character?” a familiar voice boomed down from above in a tone so stupidly deep David would have laughed were he not so pissed off.

  “Get the hell off me, Seb!” David snapped, realizing his housemates were hog-tying him.

  He tried to lash out and break away from the rope-tiers, but although he was a large guy, two (or three?) against one was foul play, especially when they had the advantage of surprise.

  “Woohoo, we got the Brit!” another familiar voice announced.

  David felt the rope tighten into a painful knot around his ankles.

  “Not funny, Max,” Seb shot back, finishing the bind around David’s wrists.

  “Hey, David knows I didn’t mean it like—”

  “Just shut the hell up. We gotta get him outta here.”

  “No.” David grunted, writhing like a snake as the guys hoisted him into the air. But their grip held, and they lugged him across the dorm room. He heard his door clicking shut, and then the two boys were out in the hallway, breaking into a jog that jolted him uncomfortably from side to side.

  “Guys,” David said through gritted teeth. “I seriously do not have time for this.”

  Max snorted. “Everyone who joins the Wolf Club has time for this.”

  The ride grew suddenly bumpier as they descended a flight of stairs. Then there was the whine of a door, and chill evening air surrounded him.

  His skin prickled with alarm. Where were they going?

  Metal doors creaked open, and a moment later, David landed on a hard, metallic surface. Then the doors slammed shut, and he was engulfed by silence.

  Or, almost silence. He could hear someone else’s ragged breathing just opposite him, a couple feet away.

  “Who’s there?” he asked, trying to shift into a more comfortable, upright position.

  “David? Is that you?”

  David grimaced as he recognized the slight Iranian accent. They’d gotten Zeke, too.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” David muttered to his roommate. “Where did they find you?”

  “In the middle of the parking lot!” Zeke exhaled in frustration. “I was trying to get a better signal calling home.”

  The engine roared to life beneath them, and the vehicle jolted forward, sending them both skidding toward the front of the trunk. It was all David could do to avoid smashing his head against the wall. Judging by Zeke’s groan, he hadn’t been so lucky.

  “You blindfolded too?” David managed, shifting himself back upright.

  “Yes!” Zeke said. “God. I am an ignoramus. What the hell was I thinking when I joined this club?”

  David sighed. Zeke was right. They really only had themselves to blame. The Wolf Club was an unsanctioned social club, and even though hazing was supposed to be banned, everyone knew it still happened. They had both heard some absurd rumors regarding its rituals, but David had just assumed they were only that—rumors—especially because they’d made it so far without anything happening.

  “Clearly, we’re both a bit thick,” he said, wincing as he tried, and failed, to loosen his binds. He guessed they must have been biding their time, perhaps to make it all the more unpredictable. “What happened to your phone, Zeke? Do you still have it?”

  “No.” He huffed. “They snatched it, right in the middle of a conversation with my grandmother! She’s going to have a heart attack, I tell you. Bloody morons.”

  A smile twitched at David’s lips in spite of everything. His influence on Zeke’s vocabulary was quite noticeable already, and they’d only been roommates for a couple months. David secretly hoped Zeke would be calling guys blokes by the time they parted ways.

  “Well, I’m sure they’ll give the phone back.” David cleared his throat. “After they’ve done . . . whatever it is they’re going to do.”

  “And what do you think that is?” Zeke’s voice wavered a touch. “Make us rob a grocery store? Drop us in a lake? Bury us underground?”

  “Umm . . . I have no idea. But hopefully none of those,” David replied.

  At this point, he was down to hoping that the rumors were grossly exaggerated. That they’d just have to run a few laps around a field or something. Maybe butt naked. He wasn’t exactly an au naturel kind of guy, but even that would be better than doing something illegal.

  Uncomfortable silence fell between the two men while David’s mind continued to mull over what could possibly lie in store for them. He shoved himself up against the wall separating them from the front compartment of the vehicle, hoping to catch snippets of conversation. But try as he might, either the guys were being quiet or the engine was simply too loud, because he was still clueless when the van pulled to an abrupt stop what felt like ten minutes later.

  The engine quieted, and the back doors swung open. Hands grabbed David by the ankles and dragged him out. Then he was being carried again, the sound of twigs cracking and leaves crunching underfoot. They must be in some kind of forest.

  “Oi—watch what your hands are gripping, man!” Zeke yelled from several feet behind.

  “Sorry, bro,” one of the boys replied, sniggering. “It’s dark.”

  “The sooner your initiation is over, the sooner you’ll be back to base.” Seb’s voice rose up from somewhere on David’s left. “If you survive it, of course . . .”

  “What do you say, boys? Give these cubs the chant?” Max added.

  Jeers erupted from around David and quickly transformed into a bizarre chorus of words he couldn’t understand. Apparently, the whole club had been waiting on them out here. The chant sounded like Latin, though the intonation was guttural and downright tribal—effectively turning the creepiness dial up a notch. David had to wonder if they were going to roast them on a spit or something.

  The group began to slow, then came to a halt. David was lowered onto coarse grass. Hands on his wrists and ankles loosened the bindings and slipped them off. David
immediately reached up to remove his blindfold.

  As he pushed himself upright, his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. He could hear a chorus of hurried footfalls disappearing into the distance. The guys had scampered already, leaving him with nothing but pale shafts of moonlight to guide his way.

  “Zeke?” David called tentatively, rising to unsteady feet. “You here?”

  He heard stumbling to his right and turned to see the dazed silhouette of his five-foot-seven friend staggering into the small clearing.

  “Yes,” Zeke sniped, swiping at his brow.

  David navigated around a fallen tree trunk and moved closer. Whatever lay in store for them next—finding their way home, presumably—he figured it was wise to stay close to each other in the gloom.

  He’d almost reached his friend’s side when something hit the small of his back. He whirled to see a large white ball at his feet.

  “Ow.” Zeke jumped as an identical ball caught him in the shoulder, flying at him from the opposite direction.

  As David stooped down to pick his up, he realized it was less of a ball and more of a bundle. There was a white shirt and a pair of white pants rolled up tightly together. He unraveled them and furrowed his brow. Both were at least a size too small.

  “I’m not sure how much more nonsense I can take this evening,” Zeke grumbled, unraveling his own bundle. “What are we supposed to—”

  “Put them on.” Max’s voice suddenly crackled through the forest, amplified by some kind of loudspeaker. “And leave your old clothes in a pile on the ground. You’ll have no more need for them tonight.”

  David spun in the direction of the command, disoriented. So, the others were still in the forest. Where? At least two of them couldn’t be far away, to have aimed the clothes with such accuracy. As David squinted, trying to make out their forms lurking among the trees, Max added ominously, “I also suggest that you be quick. The gauntlet will begin in three minutes.”

  There was a sound of loud static, and his voice cut out.