Reprisal: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Montlake Prep Book 3)

by Nora Cobb

  “You didn’t tell your father they weren’t for you.”

  “It wasn’t necessary.” My gaze snaps to her, and Taylor pushes her plate away. She motions to Stefan, our cook, and he begins to clear the table.

  “Anything else I need to know about this girl?”

  I hesitate. “We’re just dating.” I don’t feel comfortable discussing my love life with my mother, especially with the cook smirking as he removes the plates from the table.

  “Is that what it’s called now?” she says. “I hope you’re careful. Please tell me you’re being careful.”

  “Not to be rude, Taylor, but this isn’t your business.”

  She waves her hand like she’s swatting a bug away and dismisses Stefan before he removes the utensils. I hate it when she acts like that. “It is my business, Lucas.”

  “It doesn’t bother you when it’s Father?”

  Her face flushes, and I know I’ve gone too far. My own face heats up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  Taylor ignores my apology. And she is relentless with the questions. “Arielle came to the house to speak with me. Did you leave Arielle for this girl?”

  “I wised up,” I reply, voice colder than I’d like. “Arielle was cheating, that’s why I left her. Natalie wasn’t the sole reason, but it motivated me to make a change after I realized Arielle would always cheat on me.”

  Taylor is silent, and the conversation hangs over us. I’m touching on a sore topic.

  “I don’t want you to make a mistake. It’s hard living with a mistake like this every day.” Taylor recovers a little. “Lucas, Arielle claims that—”

  “Arielle will say whatever she wants. She always does. You know that.”

  Taylor’s palm hits the table, and the utensils jump. “Lucas. Arielle hasn’t forgotten the marriage contract between the two of you.”

  “Really? I’m shocked, because she’s almost married to Troy.”

  “But she hasn’t broken it,” she pleads, “and neither should you. It’s not a childish game. It’s a very real and legal document signed by both families, and a breach could lead to dire consequences.

  “Lucas, is a girl like Natalie Page worth losing everything over?” Her voice is sorrowful, but her eyes are stone hard.

  “Yes,” I reply. “I can make my own money, but love is another matter. I won’t regret money lost, but I will regret losing that love.”

  Dabbing a tear away, she inhales, then speaks. “Honey, I want what is best for you. You’re my son.”

  The sunroom is heated, a little dry, but my skin feels cold, as if I stepped outside into the dirty leftover piles of snow.

  “I am your son.” I remind her. “Your only son.”

  She is silent. But just as I think I’ve had the final say, she speaks again—her voice sharper than the knife on the table. “I hope you know what you’re doing. But I have doubts that you do.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Natalie

  Saturday evening, someone is outside banging on the front door and pushing the bell frantically. Uncle Phil, standing in the front hall, gives me an odd look as I come down the stairs, and I hurry past him to the door.

  “I’m expecting Lydia.” I open the door to find Lydia King standing on the door step. “Lydia,” I pull her inside. “Are you shaking? What’s wrong? Is it that cold outside?”

  Her face is pale as she stares at me with wide eyes. “I saw someone outside ... in the bushes.”

  Uncle Phil and I exchange a look, and then he’s at the living room window, looking out into the dark. He sees nothing and goes to the front door, opening it and looking out again. I step behind him.

  “Natalie!” Lydia shouts behind us. She’s standing in the kitchen archway, and the lights in the backyard are on. Cautiously, Uncle Phil walks over to the patio door in the kitchen. Squinting, he peers out, trying to see what triggered the sensors.

  “Hey.” He jumps back, holding his chest as Anthony appears from out of the darkness. Anthony taps on the glass while peeking inside. “Fuck, Natalie!” Gasping, Uncle Phil straightens up. “What’s wrong with him?”

  I don’t know what to say. Staring, I press my lips together, and Anthony taps again. I step forward, but Uncle Phil stops me. “I’ll handle it,” he frowns.

  Lydia and I exchange a look. Uncle Phil is rarely pissed or angry, but he’s both right now. He yanks the sliding door open, and Anthony starts to take a step inside, but Uncle Phil blocks his way.

  “Can I help you?” he says to the startled boy.

  “I’m here to see Natalie,” Anthony stammers, then looks at me. I stand still, afraid if I move something awful will happen.

  “There’s a front door,” Uncle Phil points toward Lydia as an example. “My niece’s friends generally use that door.”

  Anthony tries to laugh, but it sounds like a choked croak.

  “I just got into the habit of going around to the back,” he explains. “I know that Nat hangs in the kitchen doing homework.”

  Running his hand over his face in exasperation, Uncle Phil averts his gaze, and then places it back on Anthony. “Did my niece invite you over?”

  Anthony laughs in response, and I wish he hadn’t. “Do I need an invite?”

  Lydia sucks in a low breath of air. She’s known my uncle longer than Anthony. She knew my dad, and neither one suffered fools, or their foolishness, for long.

  “Go!” Uncle Phil nods to the open door.

  Anthony laughs nervously as he takes a step forward into the kitchen. Uncle Phil grabs his arm. They’re almost the same height and build and I’m nervous about what might happen.

  “Uncle Phil?”

  “Natalie, I want your little friend here to leave.” The disdain in my uncle’s voice is palpable. “Go home,” he says to Anthony. “Or wherever, but you’re not staying here.”

  Anthony looks to me for support, or maybe, assurance. He waits for me to step forward and tell my uncle that it’s okay, but I won’t. Not after all the trouble I’ve caused my uncle. Wait, that we’ve both caused my uncle. Looking into his eyes, I remain silent.

  Uncle Phil shoves Anthony back, and there’s a shout from Lydia as Anthony pushes Uncle Phil back harder. I run to my uncle and shout, “Anthony, go home! I don’t want you here!”

  Anthony’s eyes widen in shock. Amazed and disbelieving of what I just said. I’m amazed too, but Uncle Phil is my only family. And now I know where my loyalties lie. I do know the code.

  Anthony steps back and stands outside the patio door. Lydia, summoning amazing bravery, runs forward, slides the door shut, and locks it.

  “If you don’t leave,” Uncle Phil shouts through the glass. “I’m calling the police!”

  Anthony stares at me, and I can’t take his hurtful look of reproach. His eyes shine as he stares at me in confusion, barely able to comprehend my betrayal. But he betrayed me first. Finally, I look away and hold Uncle Phil tighter as he wraps his arms tight around me. Lydia takes a step back, and we stand together as we watch Anthony leave.

  ***

  A shock shakes my body as I walk, wide-eyed, out of the parking deck on Monday and stare in the direction of the art building. A massive oak tree rests across the right side of the building, partially covering it. The old brick building was blocked off with a metal chain link fence and yards of yellow tape over the weekend. The main door has been sealed off with boards of plywood. An earth mover is parked on the path, blocking access, and a collapsed wall is being discussed.

  “They’re not waiting until the summer break?” I ask Lucas as we join a small group of students watching the workers.

  “Your uncle’s check cleared, so they’re starting now.”

  “Looks like the tree started it.”

  A large sign on the fence announces the end date of the new Page Visual Communication Center. Art classes will be held in West Hall, where the juniors attend classes, and juniors will have classes with the seniors.

  “Welcome to the name clu
b, Natalie.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, but I sort of know.

  “It means your family name is on a building at Montlake. You’re royalty now,” he teases. “Long live the queen.”

  The shouting workmen point at the leaning tree balancing on the building. There’s a sickening groan as the tree shifts again, and men run from the area as the tree lands on the ground, pulling down part of the wall. A small smattering of applause follows from the students, but I shake my head.

  “What’s wrong, Natalie?” asks Lucas.

  “I can’t believe it’s gone.”

  “I told you the check cleared. Cromwell never waits.”

  “Is there liability?” I ask. “School’s in session.

  “Act of nature,” Lucas shrugs. “We won’t be able to get in there. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Frowning, I watch as a huge foreman points and then shouts into his cell phone. The other men back away, and sit down on the school benches nearby. Heads bent, they start to tap on their phones.

  “Well, my refuge is gone,” I mutter. “I’m going to miss the courtyard.”

  “You’ll have to eat in the student center again.” Lucas nudges me. “There’s an upside. Your car will be cleaner.” He catches his balance as I playfully lean into him. “Natalie, it’s time to step up, but you already knew that.”

  We walk over to North Hall, passing a few lost juniors and several pissed-off art students, asking on-location admins for directions to their new classrooms. We walk slowly through the chaos, unnoticed, and the confusion makes having a private conversation possible.

  “I spoke to my dad over the weekend,” says Lucas. “And he explained to me the difference between voting and non-voting shares. If your uncle sells non-voting shares to the Saunders, they won’t have a vote in the running of the company.”

  “Do you know how it’s done?” I ask. “In general. I can find the details.”

  “Your uncle needs to create a block on non-voting shares that can be transferred to Troy’s family.”

  Lucas holds the door open for me as a hasty junior pushes by us. I sigh, but I’d rather deal with this minor irritation than Arielle and Troy. Lucas smiles and pats my shoulder. He keeps his hand on my shoulder as we walk down the hall. He scowls whenever a rude student comes too close.

  “Will they lose money?” I ask.

  “Saunders will make money, but he won’t have power in the company. It’s a hamstring tactic. People use it all the time.”

  “You mean people in Montlake.”

  Lucas nods. “You mean people like us. Who’s helping Phil?”

  “Uncle Phil has a lawyer. Not sure if she has the background.”

  “Phil’s a smart guy, but if he needs help, he can contact our family lawyer.”

  Lucas and I are standing outside the classroom door, and I jump when a sickening crash rattles the windows. We hurry to the tall windows in the stairwell, which give a view of the art building. The old stone wall has given away and the tree is lying flush on the ground. The wall is torn away from the building, exposing the abandoned classrooms inside. The courtyard is covered with twisted branches and the old trunk of the tree. My shoulders slump and I think that, unknowingly, nature and Uncle Phil have taken away my refuge.

  Lucas wraps an arm around my waist. “Let me treat you to lunch today, Natalie?”

  “At the student center?”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “We can go to that diner place you like.”

  I laugh loudly. “Lucas, your nose bends in disgust whenever you walk into that place. You’re so picky.”

  “The place looks like something is going to crawl out from the dirt and steal my fries. But we can go there.” He grimaces. “It’s okay.”

  I shake my head and look at the foreman shouting and pointing at nature’s helping hand.

  “No, we can eat in the student center today.” I press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate you offering.”

  Lucas kisses me softly on the lips. “For you ... anything.”

  The bell chimes, and we hurry to calculus.

  ***

  I can’t take my mind off what I have learned. I spend any free minute I have looking up shares and non-voting shares. I can’t read it off my phone, so when the chime rings, I hurry to the library. The school allows the librarian to give out late passes if you’re actually doing work. I have serious work to do. The librarian who scowled at me the day I tutored Jacob now helps me and prints out pages of useful articles. Before I go into the student center for lunch, I purchase a notebook with a pocket. I excel at math and I am going to put my math skills to work for Uncle Phil and myself.

  Jacob is seated at the second table, and Arielle is holding court at the first. She glances at me for a moment but keeps talking to Troy, who doesn’t bother to look. Lucas meets me and carries my tray, but then something odd happens. Jacob walks to the fourth table, furthest from Arielle, where people are already seated. He motions to his teammates to switch, and they sit at the second table. I don’t quite understand at first, but as the group at the second table becomes rowdy, I get it. It will be nearly impossible for anyone to eavesdrop on our conversation with all the racket. Still, Arielle’s gaze keeps drifting over to us as we talk.

  “So,” Jacob asks Lucas, “what did you want to tell us?”

  “Arielle has been speaking to my mother about the marriage contract.”

  “What?” My eyes bug. “Why?”

  Lucas toys with his water bottle. “Arielle has been to my house, and Taylor is talking family obligations.”

  Jacob frowns. “They don’t expect you to go through with it. Arielle is with Troy.”

  “Maybe,” Lucas scoffs. “But I doubt she’s planning to wed him.”

  “I know he’s not anxious to wed her,” I reply.

  Lucas and Jacob look at me, waiting for more of an explanation. I’m hesitant to say anything else. They’re the two people I trust the most, but words can be overheard despite precautions.

  “I’m not going into detail.” My voice is firm. “But he didn’t seem too happy with his mother’s plans.”

  “His mother is ambitious,” adds Jacob. “If she thinks that girl is walking away from her son, there’s going to be a throw-down.”

  “My mother isn’t aggressive,” says Lucas, “but she’s determined.”

  “You told her no?” I ask. Jacob and I stare at Lucas.

  “I did. But she’s pushing for it.” He averts his gaze to the label on the bottle and starts peeling it off like it must be done.

  “What happens if you break that contract?” I ask.

  “I lose everything.” Lucas looks at us, and then places the bottle on my tray. “Well, if the Blackwaters get their way, we’ll lose everything. Or damn near it.”

  “Maybe you could talk to Arielle,” I suggest weakly.

  Lucas frowns. “That will make it worse. Taylor doesn’t want me to keep seeing you. She blames you for what happened between me and Arielle. Of course, Arielle lied and told her I was cheating on her with you.”

  “But that’s not true.” I shove my tray aside. I can’t eat a thing.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lucas replies. “Taylor believes what she believes.”

  “Maybe we should lie low. Until this all blows over.”

  Lucas sits up straight in his chair. “I’m not backing down. I don’t love her. I want to be with you. I love you.”

  Lucas eyes Jacob, but Jacob doesn’t comment. Jacob nods his head and looks down at his wrapped sandwich. I’ve never seen Jacob leave food on his plate before. “Don’t worry, Lucas,” Jacob says. “We’ll figure something out.”

  I smile, thankful that I’m bringing them together, not driving them farther apart.

  “Wait,” Jacob says. “You don’t think Troy knows about it? That the contract is still in play.”

  “Knowing Arielle? He’s probably about to be sidelined.” Lucas glances over at Troy, who
is busy talking to a somber Cora. Mancuso isn’t around, and she looks upset. What is going on?

  “Lucas, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Let Taylor think what she’s going to think about me. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” He clenches his fist. “If I let her run my life, then I’m through. I know I’m her only son, but I’m my own person. I’ll do what I think is right. It will be okay.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Nat. I should have been there more. Maybe none of this would have happened if I had stepped in more.”