by L. E. Bross
Because he hasn’t told me shit yet. I can see it in his eyes.
“Neverly Prep is a very good institution. It will give you a solid foundation to get into college. I’ve made the arrangements, and the board has given you a special waiver to start your senior year late.”
“How exactly does going back to school tie in with stealing a watch?”
“Timepiece,” he corrects. “And you’ll never get close to Hook’s office if you don’t get close to his son first. He’s also a senior at Neverly.”
And there it is.
“You should have led with that, because I would have told you no a hell of a lot sooner. You could have saved money and time.” I shove the chair back and throw myself out of it.
I’m at the door when I hear his voice.
“What about Belle?”
I clench my hands at my side. Bastard. Sourness coats the back of my throat. I swore I would do anything to find her. Getting close to some prep school jerk so I can break into his father’s vault? It’s not even worth a second thought.
Belle. I picture my little sister’s panicked face the last time I saw her. That can’t be my last memory.
After Nate attacked me, I alternated between the streets and a teen shelter despite my caseworker’s plea to let her help me. I was done with the system. Done with all the bullshit. I’m eighteen, old enough to be on my own.
Old enough to take care of Belle.
Except no judge in the world would call me fit. Fuck. I suck in a ragged breath and turn around. Peter hasn’t moved.
“The only way I’ll help you is if you make it so that I get custody when we find her. You have money and connections, and you can make it happen.”
“Done.” He doesn’t even hesitate.
It was too easy.
“I’m not handing it over until Belle is mine. Until she’s here with me. You get what you want when I get what I want.”
A spark of anger ignites in his eyes. Good. He needs to know I’m not some naïve pushover. That I’m not going to take him at his word just because he bought me a few new clothes. Brought me to his fancy house.
“Get the timepiece and I’ll get you your sister.” His words are clipped and I don’t miss the way his hands grip the desk, turning his knuckles white. “And remember, not a word to the boys. That is also part of the deal, Ms. Darlington.”
That shouldn’t be a problem since they already hate me. I stick out my hand. Peter looks at it for a moment, unclenches his fingers and we shake.
“Deal.”
“Deal,” he echoes.
A weight seems to fall from his shoulder and he sags back into his chair. His gaze strays to the painting and he rubs his wedding ring. The moment seems way too intimate, so I leave the room quietly. There’s nothing else to say.
I’ve already sealed my deal with this billionaire devil.
I’m in my head, trying to figure out how a woman just disappears, when I step into the dimly lit kitchen to get a late night snack, and slam into a hard body. A chest to be exact. A bare one. Again. My fingers press onto warm, hard muscle and my gaze flies up.
Riot.
Shit.
His eyes widen and pupils dilate as his gaze darts over my face. Heat clings to my cheeks under his scrutiny. I wonder what he thinks of me now. For one moment, heat flares in his eyes and my throat grows tight. I like his anger, but this side of him is devastating to my senses. My lips part to suck in a breath and his eyes drop to them.
My body pulls tight and I’m frozen, trapped in his stare.
His eyes narrow. My pulse spikes.
A noise finally breaks through and I glance over to see Xavier and Baz watching us.
I didn’t even know they were there. X tips back a bottle of water and chugs the whole thing in just a few swallows, his eyes never leaving Riot. He’s tense. Like he’s waiting to throw himself across the kitchen between us.
Baz stands with his eyes wide, gaze flickering between Riot and me. He isn’t wearing glasses now and I shift under the weight of his stare. No one moves. It takes all my effort to appear unaffected as I try to figure out what the hell is going on here. All three are bare chested and tanned ridges and dips are on full display. Three perfect sets of deep Vs dip below the unzipped suits they have on.
What the hell are they wearing?
And why are they all sweaty and covered in mud?
I take a step back, putting a little more space between Riot and me. He’s still looking at me, his arms crossed, making the lean muscles in his biceps flex. His hair sticks up everywhere, like it was wet when he dragged fingers through it.
He’s close enough that I smell oil and soap and sweat.
I didn’t notice it until now.
My throat grows tighter and I swallow.
X shifts, Baz coughs and Riot finally snaps out of whatever thought he’d been lost in. The heat in his eyes fades and now the icy anger is back.
“Why the fuck are you still here?” he growls, like the last few seconds never existed.
My spine snaps straight. “How is that any of your business?”
He takes a step closer and once again, I’m engulfed in a wash of scent and heat. My back comes up against the door jamb as he crowds into me. One hand plants next to my head and he leans down, way into my personal space.
So close I can feel hot breath on my lips. The scent of cinnamon floods my nose. Gum? My hands land on his waist, thumbs notched into the grooves on his hips, to push him away? I really don’t know. I can't think when he’s this close. This boy is intense in a way that wakens something deep inside me. He pushes, but I want to push back just to see what he’ll do next.
It’s not normal to react this way, but I’ve never been like everyone else. The same heat flares behind his eyes and this time he presses his hips forward, completely pinning me in place. He likes this game, too, whether or not he wants to admit it.
I can’t catch my breath. I hate that I’ve always been drawn to the asshole type. That because of how I grew up, I’ll always seek out the strongest guy to keep me safe, even when it’s them who hurt me.
“Ry,” a low voice warns from somewhere behind him, but I don’t know who said it because Riot completely dominates my space.
I tilt my head up and meet his stare. He has really beautiful eyes, especially when they turn dark and stormy like they are now.
A hand lands on his shoulder as one of the guys tries to pull him back, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he leans into me more. I dig my nails into his skin and he hisses out a breath.
“You clean up real nice,” he all but purrs, lips so close that all I’d have to do is lean forward a half inch to feel them.
I clench my thighs together at the rush of heat between them. The hardness between his legs digs into my thigh and I fight back a moan. I’m not the only one affected by whatever this is between us. Lust makes my head hazy and I pant against his lips.
He skims his lips over my cheek, brushes them over the sensitive spot just under my ear, sending delicious shivers over my skin.
“But you’re still ugly under this mask,” he whispers darkly, leaning back enough so he can see into my eyes.
He’s looking for a reaction.
He wants to hurt me.
The timbre of his voice makes my knees weak. The look almost brings me to my knees, something I think we’d both like. He thinks that calling me ugly will make me run away crying. He really has no idea who I am, what I’ve been through.
“We all are, Riot,” I mock. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
Something wild flashes behind his eyes and he presses his body tighter against mine. The hunger in his gaze takes my breath away and I want him to do everything I see playing out behind the darkness.
Like attracts like.
He’s as fucked up as I am and god help me, I love it.
And I shouldn’t. I can’t get mixed up with him, not when there’s so much at stake. I just need to remind
my body of that fact. Because the traitorous bitch doesn’t care that I’m supposed to stay away from him.
A strangled growl crawls from my throat and I push against him, but he’s a solid wall of muscle and doesn’t budge. His mouth is back at my ear, hot breath teasing the sensitive lobe, as I fight against his spell.
This started out as Riot trying to prove a point but it’s so much more than that now. The back and forth is getting us both worked up.
Peter said not to tell the boys about why I’m here, but he never said to stay away from them. It’s a dangerous game. I need Peter and his connections to find Belle. That should be my focus, not the want flooding my body.
I need to get away from him.
“Go away.”
I use my hips to try to push him back. He’s still hard, and it’s a test of my control not to grind against him. I like sex, I like the release that comes with it, and it’s been awhile since I’ve felt this fire in my blood. I have no doubt that Riot would satisfy every itch I have.
With every ounce of willpower I stop pulling him closer and lay my hands flat on his stomach, pushing against his bulk. His muscles twitch against my fingers. I need him away now.
“I’ll kick you in the balls if you don’t back off,” I grind out.
“Riot, what the hell, man?” X appears at his side, concern etched on his face. He gives Riot a little shake and it’s as if a curtain falls over his face. His eyes go cold, his expression indifferent.
He finally pulls back and takes a step away from me, a smirk firmly in place. This is the guy I hate.
The bastard chuckles. “If you want to touch my dick, sweetness, all you have to do is say please.” His gaze runs up and down me. “On your knees.”
“Fucking hell, Ry.” I think it’s Baz stepping up now.
Rage engulfs me and I clench my fists, ready to swing at his fucking face.
“Do it,” he taunts, like he can read my intentions.
Anticipation, excitement even, flares in his eyes and he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. I take a step forward, ready to sink my fist into his gut, when Baz crowds my space, his back to me as X grabs Riot’s arm and tugs him out of the kitchen.
“Ry, come on, man, let’s go. We got a party to get to, remember? You got Aine all hot and bothered at the race, it’s time to go seal the deal. She’ll be riding you like a rodeo queen in no time. Stop fucking around with damaged goods.”
Someone grunts then after a few seconds, I hear boots on marble, moving away, followed by a deep chuckle.
I deflate under X’s words and lean back against the wall.
Baz is still facing away from me, his bare shoulders bunched up tight. Finally, he lets out a breath and turns around slowly.
“You don’t want to push him,” he says, looking toward where the other two disappeared. When he meets my gaze again, there is concern in his dark chocolate-colored eyes. “I’m serious, Ever. Look, I don’t know why Peter brought you here, but if you’re crazy enough to stay, keep away from him. For all our sakes.”
He strides away and I’m left standing in an empty kitchen, torn between anger and panic. I don't know what just happened, but I do know that Baz is right. I need to stay away from Riot, because for whatever reason, we’re like fire and gasoline.
The problem is that he doesn’t want me here, and I’m not going anywhere.
Not until I get what I came for.
I stay in the kitchen in the dark, curled up in the corner of the built-in, until I hear the boys leave. I didn’t dare to go upstairs to my room. I’m not sure I can handle another encounter with Riot, not when I’m still reeling from the last one.
I take a couple of bottles of water and some snack bars with me so I can stay outside for a while. I’m quickly finding that I hate being alone, which is ironic, since it feels like I’ve spent half my life wishing I was. Well, alone with Belle, but she’s part of me and doesn't count.
I skirt the pool, giving it a wide berth and an apprehensive look. Despite how beautiful it is, it looks deep and my skin tightens. I never learned to swim, it wasn’t a priority in any of the foster homes we lived in. The little money I managed to scrape together went to lessons for Belle at the YMCA.
It somehow seemed more important that she know how.
There are lounge chairs spread out to the side and I choose the one set furthest back, tucked into the shadows where the backyard lights don’t reach. It’s peaceful and beautiful and if this was my home, I’d never leave the back yard.
I sit in the silence until my thoughts get too loud, then pop in my new earbuds and open a music app on my phone. At least it’s good for something. The soothing sounds of jazz fill my ears and I close my eyes.
It’s the only thing that any of my foster families gave me; an appreciation for the sensual strains of a saxophone. Barbara, our very first foster mother, was the best one. She was older, set in her ways and strict, but she gave us stability. A real home.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed the rules she laid down. At almost eight years old, I hadn’t had the best upbringing. I didn’t know what love was, and though hers was more of the tough variety, it settled me. Belle was safe and taken care of and for a little while, I got to be a regular kid.
My chest hurts thinking about her.
We’d been with her for a year when she had a massive heart attack and died in her kitchen after we’d gone to bed. I found her the next morning. I’ll never forget the waxy grey shine of her skin, or the way her eyes stared at nothing until the police arrived.
It wasn’t the last time DHHS showed up to whisk us away to another home, but it was the last one where I felt safe.
Hours pass as I sit there, lost in my memories, the soft strains taking me away from everything. It’s not until a noise breaks through that I open my eyes and see the boys stagger around the corner of the house. They head toward the pool house without noticing me and I stop the music and pull the buds from my ears. Judging by the way they stumble, I’d say they were drunk. Or at least close to being there. Riot moves behind the outdoor bar and ducks down, only to pop back up with a couple of bottles in his hands. He sets them on the bar top then grabs shot glasses from beneath.
“I can’t believe that bitch was hooking up with Justin,” X growls, half sitting on a stool. “She was practically on her knees after your ride today and she ends up with that loser?”
His foot keeps slipping off the rung and I fight back a laugh when he almost face plants into the bar and then swears.
Idiot.
“Probably saved yourself from getting fucking rabies,” Baz slurs, and after a few seconds of silence they all crack up.
I stare at the boy I would have pegged for the quiet one of the bunch.
I shake my head, it’s always the quiet ones.
Riot twists the cap off one bottle then lines up a row of shots.
“Wait, are these rabies shots?” Baz yells and X shoves him so hard that he stumbles backwards.
His boot hits the lip of the pool and he windmills his arms as he tries to get his balance. Air lodges in my lungs and I lean forward, heart pounding fiercely against my ribs.
“Fuck.” X lunges for him and grabs a fistful of shirt, hauling him upright.
“You saved me, X. I knew you fucking cared.” Baz tries to hug X but gets shoved back with a oh hell no.
Every time you drink you turn into a fucking chick,” Riot grumbles, tipping back one of the shots without even wincing. “You keep it up you’re gonna grow a pussy.”
“If I had a pussy, I could literally go fuck myself.” Baz snickers.
The other two roll their eyes, but I see Riot fighting a smirk. It’s not the same condescending one he aims at me. This one speaks of affection.
X shoots his drink and slams the glass down.
Baz reaches for his and has to try three times before his hand-eye coordination lines up enough to grab it.
“Fucker keeps moving,” he mumbles, then misse
s his mouth completely. He rips his wet shirt over his head and my breath catches. He’s the leanest of the three, but not weak. Not with that six-pack and pecs. Even sloppy drunk he’s hot.
They talk about tracks and some kind of race and I ease my legs back until they’re tucked up against my chest, making myself as invisible as possible. The shadows have deepened where I’m sitting so I don’t think they can see me from where they are.
“What the hell is Pete doing?” Riot says suddenly. “Why the fuck did he bring some random set of tits here now?”
I perk up and strain to hear what they’re talking about, because it’s me. Well, my tits at least.
“I dunno man, but she kinda hot,” X says. “She’s got that fuck you attitude that does it for me.”
Riot growls. “Stay the fuck away from her. Both of you.”
Baz laughs and slides off the chair for the hundredth time. He can barely stand up. His body sways and he grips the bar top.
“What about you? Thought you were gonna fuck her right there in the kitchen tonight,” he slurs.
Heat climbs up my neck. I thought so, too, and I’m not sure I would have said no. Riot slams his glass on the counter and I jump.
“No one fucks her, talks to her or even acknowledges her, you feel me?” he grits out. “She doesn't exist as far as we’re concerned.”
“You sure you can stick with that yourself, brother?” X asks, sounding much more sober than he should be given the amount of shots he’s tipped back since they sat down.
“I’ll be fine,” Riot grits out.
Baz snorts. “You fucking want her. How’s that going to work while she’s sleeping just down the hall?”
“Fuck off, Baz. You’re drunk and you don’t know shit.”
“You warning us off so you can make a play?” Baz stands and sways on his feet. He thumps his fist on the bar. “She has pretty eyes, damn it.”
They freeze, then X howls with laughter. Riot’s shoulders drop and he cracks a smile, then shakes his head. They grow quiet again, but this time it’s not from anger. They all look lost in their own thoughts. Riot tips back another shot and wipes his mouth.
“Get your ass to bed and sleep it off,” Riot says gruffly. “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”