Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  “Yeah, I’ll pass,” I mumble, giving her my own version of a bitchy scowl.

  The menacing grin she gives me before she turns her face to Rome makes my skin crawl.

  “You know what? I think maybe your baby sister should stay home with us, Rome, as you suggested. I heard Lace Manning’s parties are just excuses for make-out sessions. Elle is such an innocent little girl. Who knows what she’ll see there? Maybe even people having s-e-x,” she spells out the word like I’m a toddler, too young even to know how to spell. I swear, if Rome weren’t infatuated with the snake, I would claw her eyes out.

  “Fuck me,” I hear Rome grumble under his breath, running his fingers through his dark hair like he doesn’t know how to deal with this. “You’re staying home, Elle. No way am I going to let you go out this door to have some horny teenager get his hooks into you. No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening. You’re staying.” He points to the floor like I’m some Labrador.

  I take a long inhale of breath because, with Rome, my backtalk won’t work. He won’t see reason if I blow a gasket like his fucking girlfriend is counting on. All he’ll see will be the guys wanting to get into my bra. Ever so patiently, I walk over to him and place both my hands on his shoulders. This means I’m on my tippy toes because the men in this family are giants while I’m still stuck looking like Tinker Belle.

  “Roman, it’s not like that. I’m just going to hang out with my friends. Chad is going to be there with me, too. Do you really think he’d let anyone mess with me?” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

  “No.” He runs his thumb over his lower lip in contemplation. “But who’s to say he won’t get any funny ideas?”

  I try hard not to let the blush his statement provoked to nark out my true intentions for this afternoon.

  Queen Bitch Addison is right.

  Lace’s parties usually do end up with people making out, and if there were ever an opportunity for me to kiss Chad before school starts, then this party is it. I need to make everyone understand that Chad and I are endgame before we even step foot inside the halls of Pembroke High. The nagging feeling that I have for being forever friend-zoned is all too real, and I’m not one to leave things up to chance. I’m a ‘grab the bull by the horns’ kind of girl.

  Again, a Grayson trait that we all share if there ever were one.

  “Really, Rome? It’s Chad, for Christ’s sake,” I counter with my best roll of the eye. “We’ve been best friends since forever. He’s like a brother to me,” I add, trying hard not to throw up with the lie passing my lips. A sudden repulsed shudder runs down my body at the nauseating thought. Luckily for me, Rome takes it to mean that my best friend is the last person he should be suspicious of.

  Yeah… No.

  Chad is definitely not like a brother to me. I’ve got enough of those in my life—overprotective, zealous brothers who would crowd me at every turn if I let them. With Chad, I’m free. He makes my heart stop and my stomach flutter. It’s gross to even suggest that he’s in any way related to me.

  Yuck.

  But if it does the trick to persuade my vigilant big brother to let me go to this party, then so be it. Rome scrunches his brows together in thought but then seems to come to the same realization I planted in his head.

  “That’s true. Chad is harmless, and he’s always very protective of you, so I’m sure he can handle himself if some horny asshole tries something. Okay, you can go to Lace’s party.”

  “I told you, it’s not a party. Just some kids hanging out.” I slant my eyes at the evil bitch who whispered that shit in his ear.

  “Whatever. You can go but on one condition. If I call, you pick up the phone. I’m serious, Elle. If you fail to pick up the phone when I call you, then you are in serious trouble, young lady.”

  I almost roll my eyes again at his statement.

  “You’re overreacting, Rome. I will look like such a dork if I have to answer my big brother’s call every five minutes.”

  “It is what it is, Elle. Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, showing he means business.

  “Nope. Negotiation is key. You taught me that. I’ll text you every half hour. If I fail to do that, then you can call.” I mimic him, crossing my arms over my chest so he sees I can play hardball, too.

  “Fine. Every half hour, and if you don’t text me, then I won’t even call. I’ll just show up.”

  “You are insufferable. You know that?”

  “Not insufferable, just cautious. It’s my job to make sure my kid sister doesn’t know what second base is.”

  “Argh! Infuriating is the kindest word I have for you, Roman.”

  He throws me a shark-like grin, happy with his ultimatum, and I walk out of there before he has a chance to change his mind. With my luck, Addison could have sunk low enough to persuade him to chaperone the party. And that is way worse than a couple of obligatory texts.

  I get into the Town Car and give our driver the Manning’s Tribeca address. Never in a million years would I have believed that I would actually be excited to go to Lace Manning’s house of all places. It’s not like I’m close friends with her. If I’m honest, I can’t stand the girl or her bestie, Kim Carothers. They’re both just Addison wannabes, with no actual personality of their own. But I can handle Lace and Kim. It’s Lace’s obnoxious brother that really hits a nerve with me.

  Since kindergarten, Trevor has had it out for my brothers and me, but since he’s a coward, he leaves the twins and Rome alone most of the time, only to unleash his wrath on me. I’m just itching for the day the big bully gets me alone again. I’ve studied enough Krav Maga to make sure that he’ll be sorry if he even tries anything funny.

  He’ll live to regret the day he messed with me. These past few years, he’s been satisfied with just pushing my buttons with immature comments, which doesn’t justify me going all Hulk on him. But give it time. Cowards like him are sneaky and underhanded. When he makes his move on me or my family, I’ll be ready for him.

  I push thoughts of Trevor out of my mind and focus on the real highlight of going to his house. As much as I don’t want Rome to find out, today is going to be my right of passage into womanhood. Although I know a few kids who go to Lace’s famous make-out sessions sometimes go all the way, I’m not there yet. All I want is one kiss, and no way in hell is Chad going to kiss anyone else at this party but me. I know the girls there will be all over him, and if I don’t stake my claim, they’ll think he’s a free agent. Nuh-uh, not on my watch!

  Sure, he’s my best friend, but he can be more than that, too.

  Can’t he?

  This question and so many others have tormented me like crazy over the summer.

  What if he already kissed someone other than me? What if he meets a girl that is more experienced? Worldly even. As much as I hate to accept it, Chad is fifteen now, which means pretty soon kissing will be the last thing on his mind. He’ll want to do other things. Things that I’m not ready for yet. And probably won’t be for another few years.

  What if he doesn’t wait for me?

  What if he gets tired of waiting around for me and screws the first girl that smiles at him?

  Argh! Get a grip, Elle! That isn’t Chad.

  No, that isn’t Chad’s MO.

  But it is Saint’s.

  He’s done more than kiss girls. Of that, I’m positive. He’s a terrible influence on my best friend. I knew it the minute he entered our lives. Who knows what little things Saint puts in Chad’s head that I don’t know about? It’s not like Chad tells me every little thing about the douche. Most of the intel I’ve been able to get on the black-eyed devil came from me badgering his aunt. And everything she told me didn’t surprise me one bit.

  He’s no good.

  So what does Chad even see in that idiot anyway?

  I shake my head, not wanting to let those thoughts invade my mind and ruin what will be a day to remember. Chad is min
e. He’s been mine since the first day we met. Saint might try to put a wedge between us, but he’ll never succeed. He’ll never have a sliver of what Chad and I have together.

  Not even close.

  The chauffeur stops the car at Lace’s building, and I swallow dryly, trying to keep my rapid beating heart from jumping out of my chest.

  This is it. No turning back now.

  Eagerly, I jump out of the car, offering the doorman a wide smile as he ushers me into the elevator. I have a quick look in the elevator’s mirror just to make sure everything is in place. Rome was right. I do look grown up in this dress—like one of those pin-up models that soldiers used to carry around in their pocket when they went to war. The strawberry lip gloss I have on smells delicious, and hopefully, Chad will be able to tell me if it tastes as good as it smells by the end of the day. I should have texted him to ask if he was already here, but I wanted to surprise him and, in this get-up, I’m sure I will.

  On pins and needles, I ring the doorbell, thankful the Manning’s housekeeper doesn’t take too long to open it for me. She informs me that the party is out in the pool area, my heart pitter-pattering like mad all the way there. When I walk outside, there are a bunch of kids dancing and goofing off in the pool. I scour the whole area in search of the boy I’ve loved my entire life, grinding my teeth when he’s nowhere to be found. It’s only when I hear a group of kids in a far corner of the pool area, all shrieking hysterically and going wild with whatever is happening, that I see a familiar blonde head.

  Slowly I walk closer to the huddled group, my intuition screaming at me to turn back now. It’s my stubbornness that makes me take step after step to the secluded area, and soon enough, I see with my own eyes what all the commotion is about.

  Chad already had his kiss today.

  And it’s not some skank-ass ho that got to him first.

  It was my nemesis.

  In broad daylight and for every eye here to behold, my Chad’s full plush lips are seeking refuge in Saint’s firm ones. Saint has his hand clutched to Chad’s head as he drives his tongue down his throat, taking something that was never his to have.

  Just like that, all my hopes and dreams for today have been destroyed.

  Saint stole my kiss.

  And oh, will he pay dearly for it.

  Chapter 11

  Saint

  When Chad asked me to come along to this party, my knee-jerk reaction was to tell him that I would rather gouge my eyes out with a dull spoon. No way was I going to waste a perfectly good Saturday afternoon putting up with snobby pricks who still relied on their nannies to wipe their asses. But he promised a good time with the possibility of booze and loose chicks, so in the end, I caved in like any teenage hormone-filled chump.

  I mean, why the hell not?

  These are the same assholes I’m going to have to deal with for the next four years anyway, so I might as well get used to socializing with the fuckers.

  “Are you going to wear that scowl the whole time we’re here?” he taunts me with a mischievous arched brow.

  “I don’t know. Haven’t made up my mind yet.” I shrug, deepening the grimace that has been tattooed on my face ever since we stepped foot inside the fancy penthouse apartment.

  “Just give them a chance, will you? Not everyone here is as lame as you think they are.”

  The second the remark passes his lips, a preppy douche—looking like he just came from a yacht club in a god-forsaken fluorescent pink shirt, white shorts, and brown loafers—strolls past us, proving just how wrong Boy Scout is in his assessment.

  “Sure, they’re not.” I tilt my chin, pointing to exhibit A. “They look just like the type of crowd I hang out with all the time. My kind of people,” I add sarcastically.

  Unfortunately for me, it’s not the spoiled, pampered assholes going about their business that make me feel like I’m out of my depth. It’s Chad’s whimsical laugh in response to my smart mouth, paired with that irresistible twinkle in his green eyes that really does my head in. Ever since I realized I’m harboring some deep fucking feelings for my supposed best friend, my head has been a total chaotic mess.

  Not that I’ll ever tell him.

  Fuck that.

  This secret lives and dies with me.

  Sooner or later, whatever this is, it will disappear as quickly as it came.

  I mean, come on! I like girls, for crying out loud. Soft curves, hourglass shapes, and sweet-smelling females are what I’ve always been into. I’ve known that shit as fact since I got my first boner over my third-grade teacher, Miss Lancaster. Give me those girls who melt into a puddle every time you say their name, or get all starry-eyed when you so much as wink at them. Those types of girls were my bread and butter back at my old school—easy fucking pickings. That’s what I’m all about, not getting crushes on dudes, for fuck’s sake.

  Shit! It’s not even my fault I’m all wound up and confused anyway.

  It’s his!

  He’s the one who is too pretty for his own damn good. With his wavy blond hair, emerald eyes, rosy cheeks, and cupid bow lips. It’s no wonder hot-blooded guys like me get all confused and shit.

  Still, the soft smile he throws at me ensures I hate being at this party a little bit less, even if it is filled to the brim with douches.

  “Just show me where the drinks are, and maybe, just maybe, this party won’t suck balls,” I grumble.

  “Fine, just don’t overdo it, though. My mom will freak out if she ever found out we came to a party where there was alcohol being served.”

  “Just because your mom has me confessing all my dirty secrets on her couch doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell her yours.”

  He throws me yet another one of his trademark golden smiles, guaranteeing that I don’t have to drink a drop of alcohol to feel lightheaded. Who needs beer when his smile does the trick of making me stupid?

  Jesus, Boy Scout has turned me into a pussy.

  “Okay. I’m not sure if Lace has any booze out yet, but it never hurts to ask, right? I think that’s her outside by the pool. Follow me.” He winks over his shoulder, my cock instantly stiffening.

  Boy Scout doesn’t even realize how enticing he looks with his all-American, boy-next-door kind of good looks. But as we pass through the crowd of kids dancing in the living room, I notice that I’m not alone in thinking Chad looks good enough to eat. I feel the weight of every hungry eye and lick of the lips on him as we mingle our way to the pool area. This time, the scowl on my face is brought forth, not because of our surroundings, but because I can’t do shit to stop anyone from eye-fucking him.

  “Hmm. I guess someone forgot to tell us we should have brought our swimming trunks,” he says when we both see a bunch of kids horsing around in the pool. “Sorry. I know how much you like to swim.”

  I shrug it off. Sure, it would have been kind of cool to take advantage of the large pool, but whatever. No skin off my back. The one I use to practice at the Y is enough. However, when Doc was listing all the perks of going to Pembroke High, she did make sure to mention their Olympic size swimming pool. Apparently, the school is known for producing a lot of gold medal-winning champions almost every year. Not that I’m planning to make the Olympics, but if getting onto the team and winning a few swim meets guarantees my chances at a possible college scholarship, then I’m all in. The Murphys made sure that I got a fair shake at going to Chad’s school. Going off to college, though, will fall on my shoulders to make happen.

  When we get outside to the wide balcony, the burning sun that is up at the very center of the cloudless New York sky heats up my skin, irritating me that I can’t take a dip into the cool crystal water of the pool beside us.

  “So, do you see her or not?” I ask, pissed to be under the scrutiny of such heat.

  “Yeah. There she is. The short-haired blonde right over there,” he says, pointing to a group of kids at the end of the patio under a huge-ass green umbrella.


  They’re all hunched over one another like they’re sharing some dirty secret they don’t want the other kids at the party to know about. I couldn’t care less that we’re about to interrupt their little powwow, as long as it gets me under the same cool shade. And if one of them is willing to share their beer with me, all the better.

  But nothing would have prepared me for what both Chad and I stumble upon. The instant we get closer to the group, we see our hostess being groped and tongue-fucked by a chesty blonde, while the latter is eye-fucking the guy sitting at Lace’s side.

  She’s fucking going to town on Lace’s boob while wrestling with her tongue like it’s second nature to French girls, but everyone can see her real target is the black-haired, blue-eyed guy looking bored out of his mind. No matter how hard she tries, she doesn’t seem able to provoke the same stiffy on him as on every other guy surrounding her.

  “Hmm. I guess this party is gonna be more fun than I thought,” I croak out, shuffling my cock for some much-needed breathing room.

  Of course, Boy Scout thinks my boner was caused by the two girls making out when, in reality, it was his turned-on expression at stumbling onto such a scene that did the trick. When their mouths finally separate with a loud pop, the saliva still linking the two girls together, they giggle at the loud moans of disappointment now that their show has ended.

  “Fuck, that was hot,” exclaims one of the preppy lookalikes standing around while readjusting his own junk.

  “Chad! You made it!” the strawberry blonde screams out in a thick southern accent.

  She wraps her arms around Chad’s neck, to which he instantly stiffens his spine. Unlike the rest of her friends with their fancy beer in their hands, Lace reeks of whiskey.

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Lace,” Chad replies, politely unlatching her greedy hands away from his neck.

  “Oh, goodie! You brought me a treat,” she singsongs, clapping excitedly while scanning me up and down.

  “If you like hard rock candy in your mouth, then yeah. I’m exactly the treat you’ve been waiting for.” I wink, giving her my darkest smirk.