Little Plaything: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  “They’ve been, I guess you could say, nice to me.” I shrug, not getting her point.

  She huffs. “That’s because they want to have sex with you. Once that ‘want’ wears off, if you continue this way, they will retaliate. Considering you live in the same house with them, I wouldn’t suggest doing that. Kingston has access to every single part of this school. No one refutes him. No one spurns his advances. Not one person until you.”

  She says that like it’s a bad thing. “Is this supposed to scare me?”

  Her eyes widen. “Why wouldn’t it? If Brett wants something, it’s as good as his. He’s a pit bull in that nature; ruthless, cutthroat, and he won’t care how he has to go about getting it. He will dig his teeth in until you submit. It’s the way they raised us; all of us. We’re the next leaders of fortune five-hundred companies. We have to be this way, so the older generation doesn’t walk all over us.”

  I’d be lying if I said her words didn’t cause dread to settle in my belly, because it does. However, that doesn’t mean I will lie down like a good little lamb and let him sink his teeth in. I’m not from around here. No one raised me to take over for their family businesses when I graduate. I’m here because of circumstances outside my control; a farce of a marriage between my father and stepmother.

  Still, the longer I sit and think about what she said, the more worried I become. I’ve been a downright bitch since day one. Yet, none of this is my fault. It’s all Brett and his friends. They deemed it their goal on the first day I was here to make me fall all over myself. They brought out the beast inside me.

  “I get what you’re saying, Kamila. But they’ve never met someone like me. I don’t cower; I get even.”

  “That’s what worries me the most.” Her lips thin in displeasure, and she peers out of the window.

  Silence ensues as we both are lost to our thoughts. I watch as the trees whiz by and give myself up to the steady hum of the engine. As the car crests to the top of the hill leading into town, I take in the surrounding sights. A plethora number of buildings greet my senses, showing their various fall décor proudly. Unlike many of the stores I’m used to, the ones in front of me put their decorations outside on the sidewalk. The shop owners are unafraid of people stealing or vandalizing them.

  I guess that’s something they don’t have to worry about here. Unlike New Jersey, the richest of the rich make Reighton their home. They have the means to buy two, maybe three, of these businesses if they wish. They don’t have to steal things to sell, so they can make ends meet.

  Back in new Jersey, that’s what I had to do. It wasn’t the greatest time in my life, but I did what I thought I had to for us to survive. When my mother got sick, my father wasn’t able to work as much as he needed. And, I couldn’t get a job because I was too young. No one would hire a fourteen-year-old. When she got sicker, I was still too young to do anything, so I resorted to stealing. I can pick-pocket with the best of them, then turn around and take my earnings to the nearest pawnshop if it didn’t result in cash.

  I guess that’s what sickens me the most about all the kids at RPA. They’ve never known a hard day in their short lives, whereas I’ve been living on the street since I was fourteen. The only thing I didn’t have to do to get money was sell myself. But if my mother needed the medicine, I would have in a heartbeat.

  I’d do anything for my mother; beg, steal, fuck, kill—it doesn’t matter. Just to have her in my life one more second, I’d make a deal with the devil and gladly take the punishment. I’d take it with a smile on my face and happiness nearly bursting my heart at the seams.

  I’ll do anything my mother told me to do, and that includes standing up for myself. Where would her legacy stand if I allowed three pretentious, ludicrous boys to get to me? I wouldn’t be honoring her memory, her teachings, or the love she showered me with.

  So, I can’t back down to them. No matter what, I can’t let them take me away how my mother was taken from me. I can give my body to anyone I want, but that doesn’t mean they will change me. That doesn’t mean I’ll allow them to change my voice. My mother didn’t raise a chump; she groomed a warrior.

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAZ

  The only thing I can think about is Ariyal. Her eyes. Her smile. The way she carries herself, like she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.

  Every day, hour, and minute she continues to grow into more of an obsession I’m fixating on. One I simply can’t afford but am helpless to prevent.

  I have my own shit to worry about and obsessing over her is taking my attention off what’s truly important. My family’s company. Soon, it will start feeling the backlash of my ignorance if I can’t get her out of my head. Considering I’m taking over in two years, with most of my free time now spent running the Reighton store, I can’t allow that to happen. My family’s legacy is depending on me to succeed.

  I need to get her out of my head, and there’s only one way I can think to do that. I will fuck her out of my system. Then, I’ll need to find someone new to ride on my cock, because September and Brittani just aren’t doing it for me anymore. A man can only put up with high-pitch screeches and fake women for so long before he wants the real thing.

  Hopefully, tonight, I’ll find what I’m looking for, and at the same time, I’ll succeed in getting Ariyal out of my head.

  “No, you will not tell that person a thing. I don’t care what they ask or try to bribe you with. That diamond is to stay in the vault, unless a member of my family is present. Do not tell them where the new vault is. Do not converse with them other than telling them to leave and not come back,” Dorran rambles into the phone.

  Huffing, I peer after the car leading away from us. The one time we needed to get out of here, Ariyal chose now to make a stand and remind me of why I’m so fixated on her. She’s strong, intelligent, and fierce. She doesn’t take our crap without giving a dish of her own. But this time, I saw the fire in her eyes; felt the heat on my face from her scathing glare.

  “I don’t give a shit what customer wants to see them. Unless a family member is present, you do not remove them from their case. You and I know that pendant is insured for two and a half million. If they want the pendant, then I will be on my way within the hour. If not, they will leave. But under no circumstance do you ever, and I mean, ever, remove that pendant from the vault.”

  Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I reach inside and answer it without looking. “Mikaels?”

  “Sir, we need you down here at the Reighton branch,” Tiffany, one of my father’s mistresses in Reighton states through the line.

  “What is the situation?” I ask.

  “There seems to be a woman here that wants to see next season’s line and know where it is being kept.”

  That’s impossible. We do not extract them for any reason, so why the fuck is she calling me now. She’s been with the company for as long as I can remember, and my father’s mistress for much longer. She knows the rules; understands that she can’t show next season off until this season is through. It’s common sense.

  “Tiffany, no.”

  “But, sir …”

  “I said no,” I reply gruffly. “You may fuck my father on the weekends, but you’re still my employee. What I say goes, and this is not up for discussion. Are we clear?”

  What is wrong with people today? It’s been months since we’ve had any type of problems that needed our assistance. Yes, all three of us head into the city once a month to check on things, but other than that, we usually stay around the school unless it’s to party or return home for breaks. It can’t be a coincidence that all three of our businesses need us there around the same time. Something is happening. I just don’t know what.

  “Crystal, sir,” she grits out, and I hear the click of her hanging up.

  As I take the phone away from my ear, I spy Dorran doing the same. When our eyes meet, I can see the question he’s not voicing. Just like me, he knows something is happening. The only way t
o know for sure is to get to town and check on our businesses. But, again, the damn car took off without us. And it’s not like we can sign out on a Saturday, either. We’d have to pull some major strings, and I’d rather not have to talk to my folks if I can help it. They’d ask too many questions, and I’d rather not have to think of the answers.

  What the fuck are we going to do?

  Running my fingers through my hair out of frustration, I hear another phone go off in someone’s pocket. Slanting my brows, I look toward Brett as he takes his phone from his pocket, then lifts his eyes to us before answering.

  “Kingston.”

  He stays mute for a moment, but I can tell that whoever is on the other line, he doesn’t like what they’re saying. His face slowly shifts from a golden tan to a tan tinted with strawberry. He’s furious as his eyes narrow on nothing in front of him.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” Oh, this is definitely not good. Usually, when Brett is speaking to someone other than us or Ariyal, he’s the utmost, perfect gentleman. It’s how we were all raised. It didn’t take with me and Dorran, but it did in spades with Brett.

  “Spit it out and quit fucking stalling, Jared.” Jared? I’ve heard that name somewhere before, but for the life of me I can’t … Oh, fuck. Jared, as in his floorman, Jared?

  Brett catches my eye as I mouth, “What’s wrong?” He shakes his head as he walks away from us, but I don’t let him get too far. I follow him, as does Dorran.

  I don’t know what the hell is going on down in Reighton, but this shit is suspicious as fuck. Our employees don’t call us, let alone all three of them in the same day. Yes, sometimes there are snags that come out of the woodwork, but never all at the same time. Something fishy is going on, and I’ll be damned if I wait around to find out what it is. My parents aren’t entrusting their livelihoods to me in the next few years, so they can watch it burn to the ground.

  I’ve been running the Reighton business since I was fifteen, preparing to take over for my parents when I turn twenty. For the first year, my mother showed me the ropes and taught me everything I needed to know, even though she was just the designer. It should have been my father, but he was too busy with his whores to worry about anything.

  That’s mainly the reason he and I do not get along. I can’t stand the sight of him, knowing what he’s doing to my mother. However, I can’t tell her what’s going on, because one, she’d never believe me, and two, because my mother surrounds herself with designs all day and pushes her problems to the back burner. She’s not the type to want any personal information, because it might stilt her creative juices, is what she had told me all those years ago.

  So, whatever is happening, I must figure it out myself. In all the years we’ve had a business in Reighton, no one has ever asked to see next season’s line. They know better. It’s an unwritten rule in the clothing industry, and all the rich and famous abide by those rules. If someone were to get the jump on my mother, releasing similar pieces before next season, then it could potentially bankrupt us. Our family would be the laughingstock of the designing world. I can’t allow that to happen.

  My mother built this business from the ground up. She spent hours, upon hours, sewing in a ratty basement during her earlier twenties. Right before she met my father, her designs were just being seen by others around the world. However, with his influence and connections, he made DeMika Amor turn into a world-wide phenomenon. Everyone who is everyone must wear our designs. I will not see all my mother's hard work burn into ash because of some idiotic person.

  “So, you’re telling me someone came around asking questions about the properties we’re constructing and how our business plan is going?” That’s definitely not good. “You tell whoever that asshole is he will not be hearing a damn thing from you, and if he does, then you will be fired, and I will take both of your asses to court.”

  Hanging up, Brett eyes both Dorran and myself. “It seems they’re at it again. Only, this time, they’re targeting all of our families.”

  Sidling up next to him, I retort, “I thought your father caught the culprit months ago.”

  “I thought he did, too. But it appears another has risen to the surface, with the same MO and everything. So, maybe he didn’t catch him.”

  And that means this is only the beginning.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kamila asks, peering over my items at the hardware store with unease.

  Am I sure this is a good idea? Not really. But, will it be fun to put that bitch Patricia in her place? Oh, most definitely. Revenge is fucking sweet. I almost pissed myself before coming in here, knowing what all this is for, and thinking about the look on her face when she realizes she fucked with the wrong girl.

  Except, she’s going to find that out a bit too late. Because after tonight, the DLG’s—let’s say—they will not be the prettiest little things to look at.

  Over the last couple of days, when I wasn’t stressing over my schoolwork, I was watching them. I know the in’s and out’s of their schedule; know where they will be in time for my plan to go off without a hitch.

  They want to fuck with me? Well, boo-boo’s, I can fuck even harder. I wasn’t raised in New Jersey as a spineless wallflower. I have balls bigger than some guys that go to RPA, and if they want to see, I’ll be all too glad to show them—metaphorically, of course.

  “You chickening out?” I ask, smirking when her face leaches of all color.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’m just saying something like this can’t be undone. Once you do this, you will receive the wrath from them and the guys. Is that what you want?”

  Why is she so worried? It’s not like they will come after her. Fuck, they may even befriend her just to piss me off. And I’m not too sure that Kamila wouldn’t accept their proposition. I’ve been burned before when it comes to a person I thought was a friend, and it probably won’t be the last time, either. I just hope for Kamila’s sake that she’s different.

  I think about it for a second, taking her words in and digesting them. It could turn out terrible, but then again, it could turn out to be something terrific. Until I do this, I’ll never know. All I do know is the DLG’s cannot get away with what they’re doing to me. They’ve bullied me long enough, and I’m not the type to sit down and take it, like I have been doing since I came to this school.

  I will stand up. I will fight. I will ruin them like they’re trying to ruin me.

  “You never know, it could be fun.” My grin widens marginally as I watch the guy check us out. His eyes flit between us every so often, but instead of saying anything, he goes back to doing his job.

  My eyes trek toward the outside, peering at the people walking in and out of stores. They load their personal chauffer or bodyguards down with bags, while they meander, talking on their phones, as if they don’t have a care in the world. It makes me sick to my stomach watching them. How can someone treat another person as if they’re less than? That person is driving them places, protecting them when they need protected. Yes, they’re getting paid for it, but that’s beside the point.

  These rich snobs wouldn’t know manners if it were to bite them in the ass. I know some of them were teething on a golden rattle when they came out of the womb, but others, they weren’t always so rich. You can tell the two types of people apart. It’s easy to spot. The person carrying the bags is a person who didn’t always have that wealth, but the person shoving their bags into another’s hands while they run to another store, has always been rich and does not know another way to act.

  Saliva coats the back of my throat as I watch, placing each person I see into a category. There seem to be more people in this town that’s always had money, rather than the type that built their way up in the financial world. Interesting.

  “That’ll be six-hundred-thirty-seven-dollars and fifty-two cents.” My head jerks back toward the cashier, widening.

  “What? I can literally go to Wal-Mart and buy this stuff
for about fifty bucks.”

  The cashier smiles, which comes off more as a sneer. “Then go to Wal-Mart.”

  I curse softly under my breath. Little fucker knows there’s no Wal-Mart around here. He also knows that more than likely we’re students at RPA, so his dig at me is sort of moot.

  Swiping Laura’s Amex, I punch in the numbers and wait for it to process. “No need to get fucking snippy, jerk-off.”

  I meet his stare straight on, watching as his jaw ticks and eyes narrow. But just like all the other places around the United States, he says nothing. Besides that one comment, he’s been a gentleman to us. However, I can see, even though, he’s probably working for his family business, he’s just as stuck up and pretentious as all the other people I’ve met. Well, besides Kamila that is. She’s a diamond in the rough, even if we got started off on the wrong foot.

  He shoves the bag at me, plastering on a saccharine smile. “Thank you. Come again.” I most certainly will not be coming again, because I’d much rather someone else get my stepmother’s money. One that’s not a complete asshole.

  It’s as if the moment Kamila and I started talking about the guys and the DLG’s, the guy in front of me clammed up and turned into a total asshole. Of course, he didn’t voice his problems to me, but I could see it before staring out of the window at the other people walking down the street.

  Snatching the bag from him, I mean mug him, then make my way out of the store. The moment the bell dings overhead, our driver is hurrying across the sidewalk, trying to take the bag from my hands. Giving him a funny look, I jerk it back away from him as if his closeness burns me.

  “Ms. Nikohls, please allow me to take this back to the car for you.” He gives me such a hopefully expression it nearly has me giving in. But at the last minute, I don’t. Instead, I relax my shoulders and shoot a smile toward him.