Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I’m…staying?

I’m a little disoriented when the head of staff, Easton, takes the space the Ashfords vacated and starts to speak sternly.

Against my better judgment, I crane my neck, following the movement of the Ashfords as they move to the back of the terrace.

They don’t leave, however. Instead, they turn their backs to us, conversing quietly among themselves. Curiosity burns through me, but Easton’s loud throat clearing recaptures my–and every other gawking girl’s–attention.

“Welcome, once again,” he starts. “As Mr. Ashford has said, this competition is important–arguably the most important thing you will ever do in your lives.”

His words make me slightly bristle. I know my life doesn’t necessarily amount to much, but the thought of this superficial competition–in which the prize is a spoiled rich boy who hates me–as the peak of my life makes me sad. Sad and angry.

Why am I still here?

“Now, listen carefully. I won’t repeat myself and failure to obey these rules I’m about to set before you will result in immediate elimination and expulsion.”

I feel a tug on my hand and look down to see June staring up at me with wide eyes. “What’s he talking about, Spring?” she whispers. “What’s going on?”

I smile softly. “It’s okay, he’s just,”

“Listen carefully,” Easton hisses, glaring in our direction. “Some attention seekers are already breaking the rules before I’ve even finished spelling

them out.”

My face burns as eyes once again revert to me and some girls–Valerie–included snicker behind their palms.

“As I was saying…” He looks away from us and starts to list the rules.

“During the span of this competition, you are expected to be on your absolute best behavior. You are not to have any contact with the outside world.” He snaps a finger, and suddenly, servants appear from seemingly nowhere and start moving through the crowd.

“Surrender all cellular devices, including laptops and tablets,” Easton instructs. “They will be returned upon completion“-he smirks-“or elimination, whichever happens first.”

A woman sidles up to me and stretches out her palm expectantly. Her name tag reads Rachel. I deposit my battered old Nokia into her hand, and she stuffs it in her apron pocket.

Then she spreads her arms, gesturing for me to do the same. I raise a brow in confusion just as Easton says, “You will now be thoroughly searched to ensure you have not snuck in any listening devices or further contraband.”

I can’t help my eye roll. Could the Ashfords be any more paranoid?

Rachel doesn’t share my sentiments and taps her foot impatiently. With a sigh, I spread my arms, and I kid you not, she starts to pat me down like airport security.

All around us, the rest of the girls are subject to the same treatment as Easton continues.

“If you remember, when you were informed of your acceptance into the competition, you were given a document to sign–that was an NDA. If you’re not familiar with those, it means that you are forbidden–absolutely and completely forbidden from sharing anything you see, hear, touch, or even taste within these premises to the outside world. If you do, not only will you be instantly eliminated from the competition, but you will be sued within an inch of your life.”

Ah well, there goes Lou’s explicit instruction for me to update her every step of the way.

“You will have a strict regimen that you’re expected to follow to a tee,” Easton says. “You will also undergo rigorous training in manner of etiquette and your physical appearances before various levels of selection. If you cannot pass these levels–if you are not deemed worthy to bear the Ashford name, you will be promptly eliminated.”

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Chapter 7

Rachel finishes patting me down and slides over to June.

My sister spreads her arms wide, but as soon as Rachel touches her, June begins to writhe uncontrollably.

“That tickles,” she giggles as Rachel pats her stomach, and the servant shoots me an unimpressed look.

“June,” I say lowly, eyeing the rest of the crowd as they glance at us yet again. “Behave.”

“Sorry.” She squirms, now trying to stifle her giggles as Rachel’s hands reach her armpit. I turn slightly to see if we’ve once again attracted the Ashfords‘ attention, but none of them turn back in our direction.

I find myself distracted, my eyes wandering over the back of Nathan’s powerful frame. I don’t know if I’m grateful that our spectacle was so easily forgotten or offended that nothing concerning me is even a little bit memorable for Nathan.

Another excited giggle from June snaps me back to reality.

“She doesn’t have anything on her,” I say to the servant, who ignores me as she does one more sweep over my writhing sister before taking a step back. Rachel retreats and, just as swiftly as she appeared, disappears.

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