Cruel Hearts: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Knights of Templar Academy Book 2)

by Sofia Daniel

  “I’m so glad you came.” He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a dry kiss on my knuckles. Once the euphoria of his near-death experience faded, I hoped he wouldn’t return to hating me again. “When I’m gone—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Lilah.” His eyes reverted to their usual hardness. “Your mother is in no state to run my empire. We both know that.”

  My insides writhed with dread. This was where he would bequeath his empire to me, then I would become the next target of any up-and-coming dickhead with a gun who fancied himself as a drug lord. Even if I agreed just to please him, I’d seal my fate. Word would spread that I’d taken control, and rival gangs would never give me a moment of peace.

  “That’s why I’m joining forces with Sammy Kettering. He’s promised to take care of you and your mother if anything happens to me.”

  “Oh.” I masked my disappointment. Sammy was more suited to the quieter life associated with growing and distributing weed. Maybe in their plot to capture me up in Glasgow, Billy Hancock had seen something in my ex that I’d missed.

  “He’s a good man with a good head for business. You and he could build up the firm and take over all territories within Richley.”

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “Sammy and I broke up months ago.”

  Billy Hancock chuckled. “Don’t throw your toys out of the pram because of a little slap.”

  Any affection I might have had for the man evaporated as memories of him brutalizing Mother rushed to the surface. Of me pounding at him with my little fists only for him to scoop me up and dangle me over snapping dogs. In his world, domestic violence was a man’s right.

  I pulled my hand away from his and walked to the exit. Billy Hancock didn’t call me back. If this was any other day and he wasn’t laid up in bed recovering from being shot in the chest, I could expect those massive hands to grab me by the back of the neck and force me to listen.

  After pulling the door open, the policemen parted, revealing Maxwell standing in the hallway between Crawford and Sammy. While Maxwell stared ahead, the other two turned to him as though burning the sides of his face with their glares. Thank fuck the police were here to stop their aggression from turning physical.

  As soon as our eyes met, all the tension melted off Maxwell’s face. “Are you ready to go back?”

  “Thanks for coming with me.” I crossed the hallway, placed my hands on his shoulders and gave him a peck on his lips.

  He wrapped a strong arm around my middle. “Let’s get a taxi outside.”

  “Lilah?” said Sammy.

  “What?” I replied, not breaking my stride.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “This is the last you’ll ever see of me.” I walked down the hallway, wanting to add something about Nichelle, but that would only hint at jealousy or some other lingering feelings for Sammy. “Have a nice life.”

  Maxwell’s hand squeezed my waist. Either thanking or congratulating me for walking away from my ex. I wasn’t about to discuss the subject. For years, Sammy was all that I’d ever known of sex and love. But after experiencing Maxwell and Orlando, Sammy had the appeal of a used-up piece of chewing gum.

  I stepped out of the ward’s double doors, through the crowd of policemen and thugs, only to bump into the person I’d been desperate to see.

  Mother.

  Chapter 26

  Mother led me to the hospital cafeteria, a space twice the size of the dining room in Templar Academy. At this time of the night, metal shutters covered the serving hatches, and medical staff gathered around a wall of vending machines.

  Maxwell rubbed a large hand up and down my back. He probably thought this was about a girl speaking to her mother about a traumatic event. I hadn’t shared much with him about my past. Some people had skeletons in their closets. Ours was more like a mass grave.

  “I’ll leave you two to chat,” he whispered as we stopped at a table at the far corner. “Do you want anything from the machines?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He kissed my temple and walked to the other end of the cafeteria.

  “I see you’ve replaced Sammy.” Mother lowered herself into a plastic seat, her breath reeking of gin.

  “The guy who slept with my best friend and explained it away with a black eye?”

  “He said he was sorry—”

  I slammed my palm on the table, making her jump. “Then you have him.”

  Her lips tightened, and she lowered her gaze to her trembling hands. “How’s school?”

  “Mr. Burgh’s fine, by the way,” I snapped. “Although the Liddell family seems to have a vendetta against him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who’s my father?”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned back in her seat and tilted up her head. This was Mother’s default way of expressing exasperation. We’d had this conversation a hundred times before, and it always ended with her saying that the only father who mattered was Billy Hancock, the man who fed and clothed me my entire life.

  White specks of powder lined her nostrils, indicating that she had taken a truckload of pills to get to sleep and had needed something to keep herself alert for the ordeal ahead.

  “Lilah, let’s not—”

  “Because Lady Liddell showed me a DNA report that says my father is Mr. Burgh.”

  Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

  Relief washed through my system, relaxing every tightened muscle and fraught nerve. The surprise on her features told me she also thought the notion preposterous. I told her about Lady Liddell’s ultimatum, watching Mother’s expression turn from horror to fury.

  “That stupid bitch,” she spat.

  “You know her?” Although Lady Liddell had claimed to have been Mother’s Home Economics teacher, I couldn’t believe a word that spilled from those collagen-enhanced lips.

  “She was the most useless member of staff.” Mother’s lip curled. “Always kissing the male teacher’s backsides, desperate for attention.”

  “Why would she frame Mr. Burgh for something so terrible?”

  Mother’s nostrils flared. “Because she’s protecting her precious Thomas.”

  My throat dried. “Father Neapolitan?”

  “Is that what he’s calling himself these days?” she asked.

  “He’s the priest in the chapel within the estate.”

  Mother stared at me, her eyes bulging. Dark rings circled her eyes—deeper than when we had last seen her in the waiting room of the police station. Everything about her face was hard. Piercing eyes, sharp cheekbones, tightened lips, and stark disbelief.

  I held my breath, waiting for her response.

  Her harsh laugh made me jolt. Moments later, rasping breaths turned to wracking sobs, and fat tears poured down her cheeks.

  The ache in my chest spread up to the back of my throat, and pressure filled my sinuses. It was true. Everything I had read between the lines of Father Neapolitan’s letters—the rape at the Christmas ball, the subsequent stalking, the gaslighting, and the coverup—it had all happened.

  I reached across the table and placed a hand over her balled fist. “Mother, I—”

  “How many times did I tell you to drop the subject,” she said between sobs. “You want to know who got me pregnant, it was that sleazy psycho, Thomas Neapolitan.”

  My mouth dropped open. “But I thought you were seeing Billy Hancock?”

  “At Glasgow weekends and whenever he could travel up.” Mother pulled her hand away from mine and wiped her eyes. “But Thomas was there every day. When he wasn’t following my friends and me around, he was spreading crap about me sleeping with every boy in long trousers.”

  “Didn’t you tell Mr. Burgh?”

  “There was no point in telling him when he only cared about becoming the next headmaster.” Mother shook her head. “Thomas Neapolitan was untouchable.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “He used to tell me he was related to Lor
d Liddell.” Mother shrugged. “I always thought it was bullshit until the Liddells hushed up his every wrongdoing to avoid a scandal.”

  It was hard to listen to her description of being stalked by that two-faced creep. On the surface, he presented himself as a heartbroken suitor, but behind the scenes, he spread rumors and dropped hints to damage mother’s reputation.

  Mother shook her head. “I know what happened that night. So did Thomas and Miss Gabbage.”

  My brows drew together. “Who’s that?”

  “Lady Liddell, the former social-climbing Home Ec teacher. She said I was crying rape because she’d caught me on my knees in front of Thomas.”

  “Why did she lie?” I asked.

  “It was her big chance to spend time with the headmaster. Until then, he used to laugh and brush off her flirting.” Mother sniffed. “After she helped clear things up, they became inseparable.”

  I stared at the surface of the table, trying to make sense of what I had learned. Back then, the archbishop led the school. If he was related to Father Neapolitan, I couldn’t see him wanting the family name to fall into disrepute. “Did you think about getting your revenge after you left prison?”

  “Who told you about that?” she snapped.

  My shoulders drooped. “Elizabeth Liddell is one of my classmates. She dredged up everything from my past and told the whole school.”

  Mother snorted. “I’ll bet the little madam is regretting it now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Thomas Neapolitan struck again at our school skiing trip. He’s your fucking father.”

  The Uber trundled through the frost-covered streets of Richley toward central London. I sat in the back, staring into my lap, while Maxwell placed an arm around my shoulder. The warmth of his large body did nothing to thaw the chill spreading through mine.

  Everything made sense. Why Mother had thrown me out when I had gotten Billy Hancock arrested. Why she hadn’t protected me from Billy or from grabby foster fathers. Who could love a product of rape?

  Rape.

  Even the word made me shudder. Logic dictated that what Mother had suffered wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t stop me from feeling tainted.

  “Will your stepfather survive?” he asked.

  “Billy Hancock is a strong fucker. I can’t see a bullet in the chest stopping him.”

  “What did he want?”

  I shook my head and stared out of the window as the car sped past the fancy bistros, bars, and boutiques of Dulwich Village. “He’s doing an Ebenezer.”

  “Is this cockney rhyming slang?” he asked.

  A tiny laugh huffed out of my chest. “Scrooge.”

  Maxwell ran a thumb over my knuckles. “His near-death experience made him see the error of his ways?”

  “He’s not giving up his empire if that’s what you’re thinking. But I don’t think he wants to capture and feed me to his dogs.”

  Blowing out a breath, he pulled me into his side. “That’s one less worry, I suppose.”

  I glanced up into his gray eyes and smiled. “Sometimes, I forget you were the one who drove the motorbike. It’s like there are three of you.”

  Pain flashed across his features. “Lilah, I’m—”

  “I know you’re sorry. Life’s too short to waste time making you grovel.”

  “And Kendrick?”

  “Is he capable of not being an asshole?” I asked.

  “He’s great once you get to know him.”

  “If you say so.”

  Maxwell leaned into me and pressed a kiss on my temple. “At least you’ll be able to go to Glasgow weekends without fear of being abducted by gangsters.”

  The corner of my lip curled into a half-smile. “I’ve still got that shit with Elizabeth hanging over me.”

  “The broken nose?”

  “Allegedly,” I replied. “She wasn’t bleeding.”

  “Whatever happens, we’ll be at your back. Even Kendrick.”

  The warmth spreading through my chest eased away the roiling dread. If we could uncover Father Neapolitan’s link with the Liddell family, we might use that as leverage to stop Lady Liddell from spreading lies about Mr. Burgh.

  “What do you know about Neapolitan?” I asked.

  “That ass-licker?”

  I drew back and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s obsessed with the Liddell family, even though they seem to despise him.”

  “Did Elizabeth tell you anything about him?”

  Maxwell’s face twisted into one of those expressions people made when trying to calculate hard sums. “She and her mother always bad-mouthed Neapolitan, but they still invited him every year for Christmas, Easter, and a bunch of other family holidays.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

  “I think he’s my father.”

  His entire body stilled, and his gray eyes roved over my features as though looking at me anew. My stomach tightened. What if he saw something of Father Neapolitan in my features and decided I looked too much like that scumbag? I sucked in a deep breath, reminding myself that I looked just like Mother had when she was young.

  “Did your mother tell you this?” he asked in an artificially neutral voice.

  “Yes.”

  “We all thought he was a virgin.” Maxwell pulled out his smartphone. “But it makes sense that the poor woman would run far away to avoid a shotgun marriage.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Do you think Mr. Burgh would—”

  “That religious crowd values chastity over everything else,” Maxwell tapped on the screen. “Compare the number of times people have gotten suspended for lewd conduct versus violence.”

  He was right. I’d supposedly broken Elizabeth’s nose, but they had just locked me in a room and gotten Lady Liddell to have a ‘chat’. “What are you doing?”

  “Booking us on the sleeper train to Glasgow. Shall I reserve two singles?”

  “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Maxwell pressed a kiss on my temple. “A double it is.”

  Chapter 27

  I was too wrapped up in recent revelations to take in my surroundings as we exited the Uber at Euston station. Its vast concourse faded into a blur, and the announcements on the loudspeaker only registered in the periphery of my awareness.

  Without Maxwell’s strong arm around my back, I would never have made it onto the train. I cycled from shock to horror then back to a numb stupor. I wanted to shove every Liddell and those who supported them off the tower and watch then shatter.

  “Do you need a drink?” Maxwell sat me on a soft surface.

  I blinked, bringing everything back into focus. We were in what looked like a tiny hotel room with mahogany-paneled walls and sculpted glass lamps with brass stands. The double bed beneath me stretched from one wall to the other, and on the right was a window that looked out onto the platform.

  “This is the sleeper?” I whispered.

  Maxwell smiled down at me, compassion shining in his eyes. “Tea, cola, whiskey?”

  “What?”

  He knelt at my feet and rested his large hands on my knees. “When you’re ready to tell me the rest of what’s bothering you, I’ll be there. But you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink since the flight. What can I get you from the buffet?”

  I hooked my fingers under his lapels. “Take off your clothes.”

  His face went slack. “Lilah, did you—”

  “Get naked. I want to see what I’ve been missing.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he licked his bottom lip. I narrowed my eyes. The Maxwell I knew and lusted after would grin and give me a show that would blast away all my troubles. Mother, Billy Hancock, Father Neapolitan, and the wretched Liddells would become a distant memory.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He frowned. “Max. Why?”

  I let go of his lapels with a shove. “Because you’re acting like you’ve never stripped in front of me, let alone
a girl.”

  “It’s not that.” His gaze flicked down to my knees and back up to my face. “

  “Ever heard of hair of the dog?” I asked.

  A chuckle burst from his lips. “I’m a dog now?”

  “A dirty one.” I leaned back and rested my palms on the firm mattress. “Now, get your kit off and show me that splendid cock.”

  Maxwell rocked back on his heels and stood, his erection straining against his pants. The muscles of my core pulsed, and I ran my tongue along my top lip. A lurch of the train pulling away from the station made him widen his stance, but that only stretched the fabric of his pants tighter around that dick.

  I thought he was leaving the best until last, but he shouldered off his blazer, yanked off his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing sculpted pecs and a tight six-pack. Shit. Everything about this guy was delicious.

  In no time, he stood in his boxers, looking down at me with a hunger in his eyes that sent a bolt of arousal surging between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together and stifled a groan. What was wrong with me? He hadn’t so much as laid a finger on my body, yet the sight of him got me moist and ready for the long, thick erection straining through the cotton of his boxer briefs.

  He hooked his thumbs under the elastic waistband and growled, “Is this what you want?”

  “Show me.”

  One pull of the elastic had a thick, bulbous cock-head springing out. He eased the boxers off his hips, unleashing the entirety of that erection.

  The chug of the train drowned out the groan reverberating in the back of my throat. Saliva flooded my mouth and wetness flooded my folds. It was huge. I’d sucked, fondled, and been fucked by him but the horrors of the raid had overshadowed the sex.

  Maxwell’s dick again brought back a familiar ache that made me yearn for him to stretch me wide open.

  I swallowed. “Max—”

  “If you just want to sleep—”

  “No,” My gaze snapped up to his dancing, gray eyes.

  “I was pretty sure you wanted to go ahead since you haven’t stopped staring at my cock.”