Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1) - Page 11

Reaching the top of the stairs, I glance around at the open living space. It’s way too formal for someone like me to be comfortable, though judging by how perfectly it was put together, I doubt anyone actually uses this area. It leads directly off from the stairs with large windows sending waves of sunlight dancing across the floors. It has a fully stocked library, probably filled with books that I’ve never even considered glancing at, and an off-white concrete-style coffee table with big couches on either side. There's a rug across the living room, almost the same off-putting white as the marble beneath it, and while I'm sure it would feel heavenly beneath my feet, I don't dare test it out. We’ll be out of here in only a matter of weeks, and I refuse to be the reason this place wasn’t left in pristine condition. A guy like Orlando would probably send us off with a bill for a cleaner.

We follow Orlando deeper into the upstairs living areas, and I commit each turn to memory as he leads us down a wide hallway. It doesn’t escape me that there’s shitty emo-screamo music coming from the end of the hallway, and I sigh realizing just how close my bedroom is going to be to his pervert son’s. I’m going to have to lock my door each night just to keep myself from being groped while I sleep.

Jensen’s bedroom door remains closed, and I take that as a bonus as Orlando turns into a room and waits just inside the open door, inviting us in.

Mom steps inside just a fraction before I do, and her pleased gasps sail through the big room. I quickly move in around her and take it all in.

It’s fucking huge. No, fucking huge is an understatement. This room is bigger than all three bedrooms at our old place combined.

A queen-sized bed sits directly to my left, with a private bathroom just beyond that. Everything is white, which is no surprise, and the closet is big enough to be considered a separate bedroom. Instead of a simple desk, there’s an entire space carved out to be an office. I guess Orlando is serious about education and good grades.

The whole room has been decorated perfectly for a teenage girl, and I can’t help but wonder if it was created specifically for me, or if it’s just always been like this.

“This will be your room,” Orlando tells me, shuffling in toward the bed and placing my box of precious items on the bedside table. “I hope everything is as you imagined. You should be very comfortable here. I’m not sure how much your mother has discussed your schooling with you, however you start at Bradford Private first thing in the morning. Your uniform is hanging in your closet and your textbooks are on your desk. Now, I know you will be busy unpacking today, but please set aside some time to go over your class schedule and the student handbook. School commences at 8:40 and not a moment after. You will need to arrive with plenty of time to visit the student office and meet your advisors. However, since you have your own transportation, there should be no issues there. Do you have any questions?”

My jaw goes slack, and I scramble to remember everything he just said as I shake my head. “Um, no. Thank you. I’m sure I will be fine.”

“Good.” Orlando gives me a tight smile and, with that, bows his head and walks out of the room.

The tension in my shoulders evaporates the moment he’s out of sight and I move deeper into my new bedroom, brushing my fingers over the soft blankets of my bed and taking it all in, my gaze shifting over the walk-in closet and spying the private school uniform that’s staring back at me. I’ve never worn a uniform in my life, so this is bound to be interesting.

Two big windows don the walls—one directly in front, looking over the front of the property, and one to the right of the room that showcases the pristine landscaping around the side of the house … and gives my new neighbors the perfect view right into my room. I’m going to have to remember to close the blinds each night, but what’s new? I already spend my days avoiding the leering stares from my creepy neighbor.

Glancing back at Mom, I find her all but bouncing on her toes, desperately trying to reel in her wide grin. “Well?” she rushes out, her eyes darting around the impressive room. “What do you think? It’s nice, huh?”

“Nice?” I scoff. “More like a pay-off to ensure Orlando doesn’t get any trouble from me. Don’t you think it’s a bit much? My old room wasn’t even a third of this. Plus, there’s a private bathroom and a walk-in. I mean, what am I going to do with all of that? My clothes wouldn’t even begin to fill that.”

Tags: Sheridan Anne Bradford Bastard Erotic
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