Chapter Two
Georgia's POV
Holden paused for a moment, then let out a low laugh.
He held out his hand to me.
“The trail’s going to be rough.” Holden leaned closer, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “So, want to come with me?”
Rain drummed against the umbrella.
I looked at his outstretched hand, then glanced once more in the direction Nolan had gone.
Without hesitating, I placed my muddy, bloodstained hand in Holden’s. The moment I did, he closed his hand around mine and held on tight.
His palm was warm and dry, and feeling slowly returned to my cold fingertips.
He gave my hand a gentle tug and pulled me close until we were only inches apart.
I could feel his breath against my forehead.
Holden bent his head, bringing his lips close to my ear.
“Georgia, if you take my hand, that makes you my girlfriend.”
“Okay.” I met his gaze with a small smile.
A grin spread across Holden’s face before he could hide it.
He took off his waterproof jacket and wrapped it snugly around me.
“Come on. Let your boyfriend get you down the mountain.”
The trail down was every bit as difficult as I had expected, but Holden supported most of my weight.
Whenever we reached a steep or muddy stretch, he half carried me through it. He dropped his usual laid-back attitude and carefully guided me the whole way.
We finally reached the parking lot at the foot of the mountain and climbed into the black luxury car his driver had brought. By then, I was starting to warm up.
The heat was turned up high inside the car. Holden pulled out a first-aid kit and sat beside me, carefully cleaning the cut on the back of my hand with an alcohol wipe.
I sucked in a breath when the alcohol touched the cut.
“So now it hurts?” He glared at me, but his touch became gentler.
Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated.
I pulled it out and saw a text from Nolan on the screen.
Georgie, did you make it down the mountain? Savannah’s ankle is badly sprained. She’s been pampered her whole life. She can’t handle this kind of thing. You’ll be fine after getting a little wet. Don’t be mad at her or get jealous. Just be reasonable. I’ll get you your favorite egg-and-cheese sandwich when we’re back at school.
I couldn’t even bring myself to scoff.
This was the boy I had once thought was right for me.
He took it for granted that he could trample on my dignity, then smooth everything over with a sandwich like he always had.
My expression didn’t change as I deleted the message and blocked his number.
“Who texted you?” Holden caught sight of the name on my screen, and his expression hardened. “He seriously has the nerve to text you after that?”
“Just garbage.” I tossed my phone aside and turned to Holden with a faint smile. “I already took out the trash.”
Holden’s expression immediately eased.
He leaned a little closer.
“Georgia, remember what you said today. You’re my girlfriend now. If anyone tries to hurt you again, they’ll have to answer to me.”
Thanksgiving break arrived, and my phone was unusually quiet.
Aside from Holden’s daily check-ins, usually some slightly childish version of Morning, What are you doing? or Come outside, my phone stayed quiet. Nolan didn’t contact me again.
But I knew he was trying to get under my skin another way.
He posted constantly on social media.
There were endless photos and overly sweet captions.
In one post, he was with Savannah at the emergency room. The photo showed her bandaged ankle and the cup of hot chocolate he was handing her.
In another, he had taken her to an expensive French restaurant. A designer necklace sparkled against Savannah’s collarbone beneath the caption: Taking this spoiled princess out for her favorite French food. Hope this cheers her up.
One post didn’t even include a photo. It had only one line: Some people don’t know the first thing about kindness or generosity. They don’t deserve anyone’s affection.
I didn’t have to guess who it was aimed at.
I felt nothing when I saw it. If anything, I found it funny.
Nolan probably imagined me hiding in my basement apartment, crying over those pictures. He must have expected jealousy and panic to break me eventually, until I sent him a long apology in the middle of the night and begged him not to leave me.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t in that basement apartment.
I was stretched out at the Harrington family’s oceanfront estate in the Hamptons while a private therapist gave me a full-body treatment.
“Miss Georgia, you’ve had such a hard time these past few years. Even your skin isn’t as soft as it used to be.” The butler who had watched me grow up stood beside me, his eyes beginning to redden.
“Rules are rules.” I kept my eyes closed as I answered calmly. “Grandfather’s trust spells it out clearly. Every Harrington heir has to learn how to stay grounded. I’ve learned a lot these past few years.”
Especially about people.
When the treatment was over, I walked into my dressing room.
An entire wall was lined with limited-edition handbags. Custom-made gowns were arranged by color, and the jewelry cabinets were filled to capacity.
I casually picked out a white silk dress. After changing into it, I sat down at my vanity.
The girl in the mirror no longer looked poor or plain. Her skin was flawless, her features refined, and the eyes once hidden behind thick lenses now carried an innate elegance and cool reserve.
This was the real me.
Georgia Harrington, the sole heir to the Harrington family.
