Ivy Read online

  IVY

  Copyright © 2021 by Devney Perry LLC

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  ISBN: 978-1-950692-96-5

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  * * *

  Editing & Proofreading:

  Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services

  Elizabeth Nover, Razor Sharp Editing

  other titles

  calamity montana series

  The Bribe

  The Bluff

  The Brazen

  The Bully

  The Brawl

  holiday brothers series

  The Naughty, The Nice and The Nanny

  Three Bells, Two Bows and One Brother’s Best Friend

  A Partridge and a Pregnancy

  contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Preview to The Bribe

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  one

  “This can’t be the right house.” Cassia glanced at the map on her phone for the tenth time. According to the little blue dot, she’d arrived at her new home. Except this couldn’t be the house, because it wasn’t a house. It was a manor.

  Clarence Manor.

  The title was etched in one of the pillars at the gated entrance. Beyond the iron bars, a two-story, red brick building stood proudly at the end of a narrow lane. White windows of varying shapes from rectangles to ovals gleamed under the August sun. Round columns bracketed the entrance, and in the center of the lane, water bubbled from a fountain.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell she was in the right place. People who owned Federalist-style manors didn’t rent out rooms for four hundred dollars a month.

  “Damn it.” Of course she was lost. That was the theme of her life at the moment.

  Lost. Weary. Alone.

  She’d been driving for nine hours, and all she wanted to do was collapse. To unpack and sleep for the rest of the weekend. Her clothes were rumpled. The makeup she’d swiped on this morning had melted off her face. The air-conditioning in her car had crapped out three hundred miles ago, and even with the windows down, the air was hot and stuffy.

  Cassia opened her phone to double-check the text from her landlord-slash-roommate. She reentered the address Ivy had given her into the GPS. Twice. Both times, it landed on the same location.

  “I guess I’ll try the gate code.” Talking to herself had become a habit. She didn’t have anyone else to talk to, and the person she needed to speak with was dead.

  Stretching an arm through the window, she punched the numbers that Ivy had given her into the keypad. She’d assumed the gate code would be for an apartment complex or a campus neighborhood full of tiny homes like the ones that had surrounded Hughes. But Dad had always warned her that Aston wasn’t like other colleges.

  The creak of metal rent the air as the iron gates swung open.

  “Uh . . . seriously?” So she wasn’t lost. She didn’t have the energy for a fist pump. Instead, she lifted her foot off the brake and eased down the lane.

  Green, manicured lawns stretched beyond the driveway. Elm trees and evergreen shrubs hugged the fence line. With every turn of her tires, she was driving deeper into a different realm. Her fifteen-year-old, rusted Honda Civic was as out of place as the single cloud in the otherwise clear sky.

  Cassia had never felt so poor in her life.

  She parked in the loop at the front of the house, then did a quick check in the rearview mirror to smooth out her coral hair. The color was new for her, a change from her natural honey blond. But she’d needed change. Hence the hair. Hence the school.

  And now the house.

  She didn’t bother taking a bag as she climbed out of the car. There was a very real chance that Ivy would take one look at her—disheveled and dejected—and revoke her lease agreement. But since she didn’t have anywhere else to go, Cassia squared her shoulders and walked up the staircase to the manor’s double doors. She should have worn something other than jeans, a vintage Beatles tee and Birkenstocks.

  The outfit, combined with the hair, made her look like she belonged at a hippie commune, not a prestigious private university on the outskirts of Boston. Then again, she’d never really fit anywhere. Certainly not at Hughes.

  She had no expectations of blending in at Aston either.

  With a deep breath expanding her lungs, she pressed the doorbell, her heart racing as she waited.

  It swung open and an older man with thick salt-and-pepper hair answered. His black slacks and white button-down shirt were so crisp that they could likely stand on their own. He belonged at a manor. “Yes?”

  “I, um . . . hi. I think I’m in the wrong place.”

  “Your name?”

  “Cassie Nei—Collins.” Shit. She forced a smile. “Cassia Collins. I’m a new student, and I rented a room at a house around here. But the directions my roommate gave me were to this place. Is there a garage apartment or something? I wasn’t sure where else to park, but I’ll move my car. I know it’s an eyesore. Maybe just point me in the right direction. Sorry. I’m rambling. I, uh, sorry.”

  Dad had always told her that her rambling was charming. Others usually gave her a sideways glance.

  From the blank stare, Mr. Starch did not think she was charming, but the man opened the door wider and waved her inside.

  “Oh, I can wait out here.” She held up a hand. “That’s okay.”

  He scanned her head to toe, his lip curling ever so slightly. “Or you can come inside, and I’ll have Miss Ivy show you to your room.”

  Before she could respond, he strode through the foyer, his shoes as polished as the marble floor.

  “Holy shit, no way.” Ivy. Her new roommate.

  A garage apartment was the most likely outcome, but what if . . .

  She didn’t let herself finish that thought. Cassia no longer believed in luck.

  Taking a tentative step across the
threshold, she eased the door closed behind her.

  “Whoa.” Her whisper echoed.

  A sweeping staircase curved to the second floor. A crystal chandelier caught the sunlight streaming through the windows and cast small rainbows around the entryway. A floral bouquet made of white roses and lilies sat on an intricate table at her side, their fragrance filling her nose.

  Footsteps sounded from the hallway the man had disappeared through and she stood straighter, her breath caught in her throat as a stunning blond strode through the foyer.

  The woman’s green chiffon sundress billowed behind her. The neckline dipped low in a V and a single diamond glittered at the base of her throat. She could sit for tea with a queen, while Cassia was dressed for an afternoon at a dive bar.

  “Hello! You must be Cassia. Welcome.” The woman extended her hand with a smile. “I’m Ivy Clarence.”

  “Hi.” She gulped. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Ivy’s blue eyes softened. “You found the house okay?”

  “Yes. Your directions were perfect.” And had Cassia asked for Ivy’s last name during their one and only phone call to discuss the rental listing, the manor’s name would have made sense.

  Her lease agreement was with CM Enterprises. CM. Clarence Manor? Yeah, she probably should have read the contract she’d signed. It had just been bumped up her to-do list. But in her rush to leave Hughes behind, she’d skipped details beyond the monthly rental rate and physical address.

  “You met Geoff,” Ivy said.

  “I did. Is this his house?” She wasn’t opposed to living with the older gentleman, but her assumptions had been tripping her up since she’d stopped at the gate.

  “No, Geoff’s our butler.” Ivy giggled. “He takes care of the property. But I promise, you won’t hardly know he’s here.”

  A butler. Nine hours of driving and she truly had arrived in an alternate universe.

  “I’m sorry.” Cassia swallowed a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting all of this. You did say four hundred a month, right?” Because that was all she could afford to pay.

  Ivy nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Okay.” The air rushed from her lungs.

  Her heavy class load would require her fullest attention if she was going to graduate in the spring. And she had to graduate. Her miniscule inheritance would cover a year’s rent with just enough cash to spare for cheap food. If she had to get a job, she would, but adding work to the mix, well . . . she’d drown.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” Ivy said. “Then let you get unpacked and settled.”

  This was the moment Cassia expected to be led to a basement cellar, except Ivy walked toward the sweeping staircase and led her to the second floor.

  Even if she had to live in an upstairs storage closet, she’d make do. For four hundred bucks, she’d anticipated a cramped apartment with a shared bathroom. If her room was an actual closet, so be it. This was just a short-term situation for her senior year.

  Besides, she’d survived the past three months. She could endure a shitty bedroom for a year.

  Ivy’s heels clicked with each step. Her fingertips skimmed the wooden banister, the light catching on her glossy, green nails. Ivy was undoubtedly the type of girl who got weekly manicures. Meanwhile, Cassia chewed her nails to the nubs.

  She tucked her hands into her jeans pockets.

  “How was your trip?” Ivy asked over her shoulder. “You came from Pennsylvania, right?”

  “Yes. And it was long. It’s nice to be here.” It was good to be away from Hughes.

  The minute she’d driven off campus this morning, it had been like fleeing a storm. Aston was an unknown. New school. New classes. New professors. That was a nerve-racking trio. But Cassia would take this knot in her stomach if it meant she no longer had to stand in the center of a tornado.

  “This is quite the house,” she said as they reached the landing on the second floor. “You didn’t exactly tell me it was this, um . . . fancy.”

  Ivy shrugged. “I guess it is. To me, it’s just home.”

  What would life be like if a manor was normal? At any moment, a cameraman was going to pop out of his hiding spot and announce that she’d been pranked. She really should have asked more questions.

  Cassia’s decision to transfer to Aston had been a spur-of-the-moment idea three weeks ago. After months of avoiding the world and wallowing in her grief, she’d crawled out of her solitude for a meeting with her advisor at Hughes. Five minutes on campus, with people giving her strange looks and whispering behind her back, had sent her into a spiral. She’d skipped the meeting, rushed home and made a call.

  There were too many memories at Hughes. Too many horrors. Abandoning that life had been her only option.

  One, and only one, person at Aston knew about her past. And he’d vowed never to share the ugly truth.

  Nearly all of her credits had transferred to Aston. The two classes that hadn’t, she’d tacked on to her course schedule. School would be her focus. She’d let it consume her every minute until she forgot the past.

  Until people asked her name and Cassia Collins was the automatic response.

  Until the ghost of Cassie Neilson had vanished.

  “You’re this way.” Ivy swung an arm toward the hallway at their left. “Please make yourself at home. The parlor on this side of the manor is really cozy on rainy afternoons. The library is fair game, and if you want a fire lit in the hearth, just ask Geoff.”

  The manor had a parlor and a library. Cassia’s jaw hit the shiny hardwood floor.

  They passed door after door as they walked the wide hallway. The crown molding and the window trim were hand carved with scrolled details found only in classic buildings.

  Ivy turned down another hallway, walking to the last door. “This is your suite. We’ve got a housekeeper who cleans this side of the house every Friday but if you need anything—”

  “Just ask Geoff.”

  “You’re catching on.” Ivy winked, then entered the room, spinning a wrist. “What do you think? Is this okay?”

  “Uh . . .” Okay?

  The space was larger than the apartment she’d left in Pennsylvania. The four-poster bed was so massive she’d probably get lost beneath the plush, white duvet. A table in the corner had two wingback chairs. She had her own gas fireplace. The windows overlooked the rear of the house and the gardens beyond.

  “This is a dream,” she whispered to Ivy. And to herself.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Ivy pointed to the doors opposite the bed. “En suite on the right. Closet on the left.”

  “Wow. It’s . . . wow.” Sweat began beading at her temples. This was too good to be true. Much too good. Good things didn’t happen to her these days.

  “Would you like some help hauling in your things?” Ivy asked. “Geoff would be happy to carry them upstairs.”

  Given the way Geoff had looked her up and down, she highly doubted he’d volunteer. “No, thanks. I can grab them. I don’t have much.”

  The contents of her life had fit into the trunk of a Honda. That might have been depressing had she not felt a weight leave her shoulders when she’d sold the rest of her belongings.

  A fresh start. A blank slate.

  “Want a tour?” Ivy asked. “I kind of love giving them, so please say yes.”

  “Yes, please. Absolutely.”

  “Thanks.” She laughed and waved for Cassia to follow. When they reached the top of the staircase, she pointed to the hallway that stretched toward the opposite end of the house. “My rooms are that way.”

  Rooms. Plural. Cassia stifled a laugh. What the hell was she doing here? “All right. Cool.”

  She was seconds away from a nervous breakdown, but if Ivy noticed, she didn’t say a word.

  They retreated downstairs and through the foyer, weaving through the manor’s maze of hallways until Cassia wasn’t sure which way was up or down. Ivy showed her the formal dining ro
om and the informal dining room. They passed the billiards room and another parlor. Then there was the theater and in-home gym.

  “Elora’s rooms are on the first floor,” Ivy said as she turned into the huge kitchen with industrial-grade appliances.

  “Elora?”

  “Our other roommate. I think she left a little bit ago, but I’m sure she’ll come introduce herself later.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’ve lived together since freshman year.”

  “Ah.” So Cassia would be the third wheel. For four hundred dollars and a bathroom of her own, she’d be the tenth wheel. Considering this house could comfortably sleep fifty, having two roommates would be no problem.

  A middle-aged woman with a severe gray bob strolled into the kitchen. “Miss Ivy.”

  “Hello, Francis. Meet Cassia Collins. She’ll be living here for the year.”

  Francis nodded. “Miss Cassia.”

  “Oh, you can just call me Cassia,” she corrected. “I don’t need the Miss.”

  “Very well. Cassia.” A doorbell chimed in the distance. “That would be the market delivery. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Francis is our chef,” Ivy said as the woman left the room. “She keeps the fridge stocked for breakfast and lunch, then prepares a meal each night.”

  “Okay. Is there a place where I can stash my groceries so they’re out of her way?”