Page 21 of The Invite
A second knock on the door interrupts us.
It swings open, and a stunning middle-aged woman steps inside, followed by an equally posh man. Authority and power drips from their posture and clothes.
It’s the woman who has me going perfectly still.
Elizabeth Grayson isn’t supposed to make me nervous.
Yet I can’t help but be on edge.
I immediately see similarities between her and Augustus. While the other person is an older and meaner version of Maverick. Even perplexing is how neither of them appear motherly or fatherly.
Maverick’s father looks pissed while Elizabeth looks bored.
“Mrs. Grayson and Mr. Sinclair, thank you for coming,” greets Mr. Crane after rushing to stand and waving at the empty chairs beside me. “Please have a seat.”
“What’s the urgency, Kevin?” asks Elizabeth after glancing at her son. The fact she calls the principal by his first name doesn’t sit well with me.
A bad feeling rises in my gut.
Mr. Sinclair is impatient, and it shows in his tone when he barks, “What has he done now?”
“He assaulted one of our teachers last night.”
His menacing glare shoots to his son upon hearing the accusation. “You what?”
“I didn’t, Dad,” Maverick replies, gaze hard.
“Miss Nessa has proof,” states Mr. Crane, and cautiously mentions to Elizabeth, “and it also involves Augustus.”
Not a single muscle in her stoic face moves as she meets her son’s eyes. “Is it true, Augustus?”
It takes every ounce of control not to wither when Augustus skirts his dark gaze to mine, and answers, “There was a misunderstanding and the proof is a recording of me admitting the same to Miss Nessa.”
“I would like to hear the recording,” demands Elizabeth.
“Of course.” Mr. Crane plays it for everyone and I listen to the entire conversation again. There’s no missing the trepidation in my voice. The shock at the end when he promises to finish what he started.
Palpable anger emanates from Mr. Sinclair and as soon as the recording stops, he turns to me and demands coldly, “What’s it going to take for you to let it go?”
“I don’t feel safe around them and I want them expelled.”
“No.”
I whip my dismayed gaze to Elizabeth. “I’m sorry?”
She doesn’t bother answering me, like I’m not even worth her attention. Like I’m dirt below her expensive heels. Why did I think she’d react any differently?
Instead, she orders Mr. Crane, “I want to speak to you alone, Kevin.”
I’m even more stunned when he nods and looks at me apologetically. “Just give us a moment alone, Miss Davenport.”
“You’re kidding me,” I snap.
“Please. I listened to you and I believe Mrs. Grayson deserves the same respect.”
Bullshit. He’s just scared.
All the hope I felt when I came to him gets squashed in an instant. On shaky legs, I stand, grab the Dictaphone, and march out of the office. Greta’s shrewd gaze flies to mine and I’m surprised when she follows me to the couch.
