Glass Heart Broken: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Glass Heart Academy Book 2)

by Lindsey Iler

  Thrill crosses Reed’s face. She’s always been a bit of an exhibitionist when it comes to sex. The more public, the better. She thrives on unpredictability and desire.

  Memories of every second I spent with Palmer in those woods, her willingness to trust me, bending her in front of that tree, plays on a loop in my mind. A sick, deep-seated buzz shoots through me.

  “How do you know where they found her?” Her hand tries to find its home on my hip. I dodge her advance. “Or how they found her body?”

  “It was on the news,” she explains, shrugging my question off like it doesn’t mean anything. “Now, do you really want to talk about that, or would you rather show me how much you’ve missed me?”

  “What do we have here?” Dixon pokes his head in the entrance, startling me.

  I’ve been so focused on arguing with Reed that I’d missed him opening the door.

  Breaker and Byron follow behind him until the five of us are crowded in the small space. We watch each other, waiting for explanations, and when no one says anything, I head to the stairs.

  “You called us up here!” Byron hollers. “You plan on telling us what the emergency is? I had to reschedule my meeting with Dean Eberstark.”

  At the mention of the dean, I turn and stare at Byron. “What was your meeting about?”

  “I’m not sure, since I didn’t show up.” He glares at me. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Palmer and I were walking through campus together and overheard Dean Eberstark talking with Henry.”

  “And your point? Henry’s a huge donor.”

  “They were talking about the bidding at the event. How some punk stole Declan’s bid, and how Henry’s clients aren’t too happy,” I explain a little further.

  “Are you telling me that Dean Eberstark is involved in all of this?” Dixon questions. “Holy fuck! Henry, I understand, because he’s a piece of shit, but Dean Eberstark? Damn!”

  “I’d planned on waiting until Palmer got here to tell you,” I add. “That way we can try to figure this out.”

  “Where is the little princess, after all?” It takes everything in me not to react to Reed rolling her eyes.

  “Any luck on the notebook?” I ask Dixon.

  “I want that back,” Reed says, trying again to butt into our conversation, but we ignore her. As someone who’s used to being the center of our attention, she’s baffled by our reaction.

  “I’m trying, but I can’t quite figure it out yet.” Dixon pinches his lips together.

  “What do you think you’ll find?” Reed questions, fixing her stare straight ahead on nothing. “Maybe I can look at it again and try to understand it.”

  “Like you said, Reed, there isn’t any such thing as a coincidence. My guess is it has something to do with the missing girls, and since Henry seems to get off on selling girls, I can only assume they’re linked to each other,” I say, turning my attention to Dixon. “Do you have it on you?” I reach my hand out to Dixon, knowing damn well he wouldn’t leave it unattended.

  He swings his backpack to the front of his body and unzips it, handing me the leather-bound notebook. I flip it open, seeing the columns of code and pages and pages of cryptic information. I head upstairs with everyone following me.

  “When I overheard Dean and Henry today, the only thing I could think about is the clients he’s talking about. Henry’s business is something I’ve never asked him about, but it got me thinking that whoever this notebook belongs to is clearly the one in charge.” I take a letter from my drawer and open its pages.

  I slam the notebook down on my table alongside the letter. Dixon comes up beside me, scanning his eyes between each of them.

  “Signed, Henry Lexington.” Dixon holds them up for everyone to see. “A clear match in handwriting.”

  “How did you not know Henry was involved?” I ask Reed who’s standing in the doorway like she’s about to bolt.

  “Declan is who I dealt with. I did a few things for him to pay off some debts. He’s the bottom guy, I’m sure, with a ton of henchmen working beneath him.”

  “What kind of debts?” I ask, needing more pieces to this puzzle.

  “I got into a bit of trouble. Snorted a bit of my trust fund.” Her nose scrunches up like she’s just taken a line.

  “Jesus, Reed. Did you not learn anything from us?” Breaker sighs, completely exasperated.

  “So, you’re telling me, you got mixed up in this trouble for a little bit of cocaine?”

  “My debt had to be paid.”

  “And let me guess, when you couldn’t pay it, you ran away like a coward, grandfathering that bullshit to your sister?” Byron closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before staring directly at her for answers.

  “What is with you two? Does she have some sort of cookie dough flavored coochie?” Reed glares at me.

  “Calm the fuck down, will you?” I grab the letter from Dixon and fold it up, tucking it into my desk.

  “What’s going on in here?” Palmer asks as she walks into the room. Everyone’s full attention shifts to her.

  “Linking Henry to the notebook, for starters. Oh, and your sister is speculating what your pussy tastes like,” Breaker announces. “That about sums it up, right, guys?” He humorously gapes around the room, making a fucking show of it.

  “You’re an asshole.” Reed shoves him in the chest, then drags Palmer from the room.

  Chapter Ten

  Palmer

  “I don’t think I want to know what that was about,” I say, walking down the stairs, checking behind me to see if Reed is following.

  “We should talk.” She grabs my arm, dragging me to the couch. Her eyes scream for understanding. It’s the same look she gave me on my seventh birthday when she convinced my parents I didn’t deserve a party. She was mad at me for borrowing her favorite sweater and getting a chocolate stain on it.

  I’ve taken something again without asking, and now she’s reappeared to right my wrongs.

  “I suppose we should.” I drop my head to the couch cushion.

  “Listen, I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us. I’m the one who disappeared. I should have known you’d gravitate towards them,” my sister says, seamlessly discrediting what’s happened between Marek and me and convincing herself that I’m in her rightful place.

  “Right, and now that you’re here, although in the shadows, what happens now?” I ask the one question that will fester in our minds if we don’t talk about it.

  Reed appearing out of thin air has the potential to throw everything off, at no fault of hers. It’s obvious her plan wasn’t to stay gone forever. What has she been doing since that dreadful day? That’s a bit of a mystery. I imagine she’s been trying to figure out a way to come home to us. The truth is, the only thing she deemed worthy of emerging from the shadows is Marek.

  “We need to go.” Speak of the devil. Marek announces his entrance, taking the stairs two at a time. He stops in front of Reed and me, holding out his hand.

  She and I look at each other, then direct our attention to him. His hand shifts to my side, and I place mine in his, releasing the deepest breath that would have strangled me if he had reached for Reed.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, allowing him to bring me to my feet.

  A keychain with a single key dangles from his finger. His grin says everything. Trouble.

  “You may not want to ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” His eyes shift to Reed. “We’ll be back.”

  “Don’t wait up,” I say.

  He doesn’t give any other explanation as he leads me away. Before we’re out the front door, I glance over my shoulder. Reed’s head hangs low, lifting the split second before Marek drags me from the house, making the sadness and jealousy in her eyes the last thing I see.

  “What are you smiling about?” Marek asks as he opens the passenger door for me.

  I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. The simple kiss is gentle and si
ncere, the kind shared with someone familiar and comfortable.

  Marek shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side, slipping behind the wheel. He turns the keys in the ignition and faces me. My cheeks heat under the stretch of my smile.

  “She’s jealous,” I whisper.

  “And this makes you happy?” Marek shakes his head, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. This boy takes attraction to a whole other level.

  A giggle erupts, and I cover my mouth with my hand. This is so wrong of me.

  “Palmer Weston, you’re eating up your sister’s despair like a hungry lion, aren’t you?” He taps his finger in rhythm with the low volume of the radio.

  I shrug, pretending to be clueless. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “We’re going to go to Henry’s condo downtown.”

  “We’re breaking into his apartment?”

  “Losing your nerve, Weston?” He grabs my hand, lifting it in the air and suspending it between us. His fingers, with purpose and conviction, run up and down my palm, tickling the skin of my hand. When they dip lower to my wrist, his fingers wrap around my forearm, bringing me closer to him.

  The car rolls to a stop at a red light. Marek grabs the nape of my neck, forcing me to him. His lips crash into mine, locking us together. A mixture of sex and admiration passes between us as his tongue runs along my bottom lip.

  “What was that for?” I ask when we separate. The light turns the exterior of the car from red to a beautiful shade of green.

  “You’re my favorite distraction,” he says through a tight grin, trying to hide any sense of happiness.

  Marek’s words are a declaration. From someone different, they would come across as callous and bleak. Before I knew Marek, I would have overthought, calculated my next words to make sure to get clarification.

  When I look at this boy who has unexpectedly shifted my entire viewpoint on life, I don’t need him to say another word. It passes through us like lightning. Unforgiving and relentless.

  “We’re here,” Marek announces, putting the gear shift into park.

  I must have fallen into a bit of a daze. I look out the front window and see the tallest building in our town. We are just outside of campus. The sign on the building reads Lexington Manor.

  “He’s richer than the rich, isn’t he?” I say as we meet at the front of the car. We gaze up at the glass monstrosity.

  Marek grabs my hand, and we cross the quiet street. We walk through the doors, and my eyes pop wide at the beautiful entryway. The man behind the front desk, wearing a tailored three-piece, navy blue suit, watches us as if he isn’t surprised to see us and yet, unsure of our reason to be here.

  Marek presses the elevator button, and when the doors open, we step on. Once they close, I turn to him. “Do you come here often?”

  If he answers yes, it would explain the wary look the attendant threw our way.

  Without notice, Marek pins me against the wall. My back pinches from the pain. He reaches behind me, rubbing low on my spine.

  “Don’t say another word,” he whispers, pressing his mouth against mine. “We aren’t alone.” He tilts his head to the corner, forcing me to notice the mounted camera. Discreet if I wasn’t looking for it.

  “What are we going to be looking for?” I whisper in his ear. My voice couldn’t drop any lower without going silent.

  Marek’s hand slips between our bodies, rubbing my center through my pants. The pressure is enough to drive me wild. Mixed with his lips on my neck, it’s easy for me to play into the illusion that we’re here to fool around. I tremble under his touch.

  “Anything we can use against Henry. I need him to admit to what’s happening,” he murmurs, running his lips across my cheek to my waiting lips.

  The kiss is fevered and uncontrolled. Marek lifts me into his arms when the doors slide open. With my legs wrapped around his waist, he carries me off the elevator. His lips are soft and rough, a talent he’s clearly been perfecting for years. Somewhere in the lusty fog, I sense him unlocking the door.

  Once inside, I expect him to release his tight hold. Instead, he carries me until my legs hit a hard surface. He breaks the kiss, and I immediately miss his lips. Admiration and attraction flow from his eyes while excitement fuels him. He unbuttons my blouse, torturing me with slow movements. As enough skin is exposed, he dips his head, pressing sensual kisses along my collarbone.

  “Marek,” I say, trying to catch my breath, only to have it stolen once again with his lips against mine.

  He presses our foreheads together, his eyes dead set on mine. “What, baby?”

  “Why are you making me fall for you?” There it is. The kind of truth I don’t want to admit to myself. The kind that stings deeper with every passing second.

  Marek shuffles backwards and leans against the couch across from me. With watchful eyes, he leaves me exposed. Raw. What have I done? My chest aches harshly with every breath I take, waiting on something of substance to be delivered by the man I’m quite sure I don’t know yet.

  “I’m not trying to,” he whispers.

  “I think”— I slide off the table, easing towards him— “this is going somewhere neither of us ever expected”— almost there— “Marek Hawthorne.” My fingers grip the hem of his shirt.

  The corners of his mouth lift. “Do you want it to stop? Because I don’t know if I can.” His hands clutch my hips, guiding me across the floor into a bedroom off the living room.

  “No, but you need to be careful with my heart. I grow a little more scared of how you make me feel with every passing day.”

  With his hands fisted in my hair, his lips drop to mine, consuming my mouth. The kiss is eager, like a live wire dangling in the streets. Dangerous and unruly.

  We make quick work undressing each other. Marek leans down, covering one nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting gently, then shifts to the other. Once he’s shown them the attention they’re desperate for, his hand firmly presses on my chest, forcing me onto the bed.

  “Let me taste you,” he whispers, dipping between my thighs. My hands fall to the top of his head. I writhe under his tongue, unable to stay in control. When I’m on the verge of collapsing over the edge of ecstasy, he retreats. “You aren’t coming until you’re wrapped around my dick, looking me in the eyes.”

  I spread my legs, shifting my eyes to my center, begging him with no words.

  “It’s not going to get much better than this,” I say, stunned by how easy I find words to express how he makes me feel when he’s looking at me. Marek reaches up, a warm concern in his eyes, and runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.

  His hand flattens as it trails down my neck and onto my chest, where it stays, feeling the beat of my heart. Tears form, and I swallow the lump forming as I wait for reassurance and clarity.

  “Marek.” I cup the side of his face, nodding my head to answer the silent questions in his mind.

  “You’re killing me.” He tries to shake off my touch, but I persist, catching him between my hands. His jaw tightens. “You’re scared of falling for me, and I’m scared, after everything I did, you’d even look in my direction. How can you?”

  “I don’t want something I can explain.” I grab his chin, forcing his lips to mine, kissing him quick. “You deserve to hear someone say they care about you”— I smile— “and more importantly, you deserve to hear someone say they care about you and mean it. Let me be that person.”

  Marek guides himself to my center, idling right at the helm, steadying himself. His eyes sparkle under the dim lights. “I don’t deserve you.”

  My back arches as he pushes inside my walls, slowing once he’s as deep as he can go. We take our time admiring and appreciating each other’s bodies. Not one part of my skin is left untouched.

  “I’ve never felt...” He rocks into me, setting little fires throughout my body. My hands brush through the front of his hair, forcing him to truly look at me as he speaks. “You’re brea
king me, Palmer.”

  “Tearing down those walls is what I want. I’ve been in the presence of psychopath Marek. I’ve experienced cruelty at your hands.”

  “That’s who I am.”

  That very well may be true, but I don’t care. Monster or not, I want to know every last bit of him.

  “No, that’s who you can be when provoked, and I promise I’m going to continue to provoke him. Just know I don’t want to change you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to know I’m the only girl who is capable of bringing out this version of you, because this version”— I roll my hips, and he hisses in a breath— “turns me on more than the other. A perfect storm of psycho sweet.”

  Marek grabs my wrists and yanks them above my head, pinning me to the mattress as he slides in and out, torturing me sweetly. His mouth dips, biting at my tight nipples, only to swirl a soft tongue to alleviate the sting. He does this until I’m so close to coming undone. I manage to get my hands free to rip at the sheets beneath us.

  “Psycho sweet, huh? That’s what you want?” He slips out of me and flips me onto my stomach, while sliding his arm around my hips to lift my ass in the air. He has me full before I can utter a single sound. “I’m an amateur at being sweet, baby, but”— pressure builds against my asshole, seeking my pleasure from the tight hole— “psycho is my specialty.”

  His words set every molecule in my body on high alert. Is it possible to come from hearing someone’s voice? I’m a firm believer it is, now.

  Marek’s strong body covers me like a second skin, touching every inch of what we both know is his. He slows his pace.

  He eases away, dropping his mouth to my neck, guiding himself down my body like a roadmap, tracing his way to his favorite destination. He kisses my hip, then shifts to the other.

  “Like I said, my favorite distraction,” Marek says, licking my pussy, then flipping me over again.

  I grip the ends of his hair, bringing him up to me. He’s halfway to my lips when I hear a door slam.