Angel (A Reverse Harem Bully Romance): The Brotherhood

by K. M. Raya

  I hate Papa.

  He’s not the man I thought he was.

  Someday, when I’m big and strong . . . I'll remind him of that.

  ✽✽✽

  I’m a fucking masochist.

  ‘Why do I do this to myself?’ I wonder as I lay there in bed staring at my phone. It's well past midnight and sleep probably isn't in the stars for me.

  I need to run.

  I need to burn off this energy and anxiety coursing through me. It's probably stupid to go running in the dead of the night, but with an upbringing like mine, I’d hate to be the sad sack who decides to mess with Angel Valentino on a bad day.

  I change into my running shorts, sneakers and a loose black shirt before locking up the house and jogging down the dimly lit street. Seaside is a hilly town and my house is settled onto a sea cliff, overlooking the sand beaches and shallow tide pools.

  I follow the path of the road for five minutes before coming to a fork. Veering to the left, the street becomes smaller and smaller the further in I go. I’m starting to think about turning back the way I came, but a flickering light—way in the distance catches my attention. In the darkness of the surrounding trees, lit only by the streetlights and the full moon overhead, the light is out of place, making me curious.

  I follow it, taking a small path off of the paved road and into the trees. Again, if I were a normal girl I’d be an idiot for venturing this far out, but the tiny handgun strapped to my waist underneath my t shirt gives me some reassurance.

  I quiet my steps as I begin to knock branches out of the way and step lightly over tree roots and wet foliage. The light is brighter now and I can easily pick up the smell of burning firewood. Crouching, I make my way to the edge of what looks like a clearing. It's small—maybe the size of my living room, but in the dead center, a massive bonfire blazes bright.

  The fire isn't what has my mouth hanging open in shock and confusion though. No, that honor belongs to the tall figures gathered around it, each wearing a mask fashioned into the head of an animal. The scene is startling to say the least and I’m beginning to wonder if I might have stumbled on some sort of cult ritual. The only problem with that theory though, is that they aren't really doing anything.

  Their clothing is normal—pressed slacks and button down shirts. The contrast between their nice attire and the wild looking animal masks is staggering. I feel like I shouldn't be seeing this . . . like it's not meant for my eyes.

  I turn to leave, moving slowly as to not draw any attention, but I fail miserably as my foot snaps a small twig beneath me.

  ‘Shit . . .’

  The sound echoes and bounces off of every tree in the vicinity. I cringe, cursing my own stupidity. As expected, every animal mask wearing head snaps in my direction at once. Shadows move through the trees around me and I know I need to get the fuck out of here.

  Without another thought, I sprint through the forest, dodging branches and scrambling over rocks and boulders. I’ve never run so fast in my life. A cacophony of footsteps pound behind me and it's startling because I could have sworn I saw only around ten or so men—not twenty.

  I never slow down. After bursting out of the trees, I take off down the street, unhindered by the foliage and uneven forest floor. The dark forest blurs around me until I can no longer hear footsteps.

  I backtrack until my home comes into view, but instead of running around to the front and wasting valuable time, I vault over the white picket fence surrounding the property line and scale the trellis that leads to my balcony. Silently, I curse myself because my slider door opens right up. I forgot to lock it this morning.

  ‘Fucking reckless.’

  I’m free and clear now, but I don't bother turning my lights on. I spend the rest of what remains of the night laying in my bed, eyes wide open and staring at my ceiling until the sun rises the next day.

  Chapter Five

  Angel

  There's a party tonight and Beth begs me to go.

  I feel like I should stay in, but the need to get out of the house is just too strong. In all honesty, I’m ready to squeeze a little fun out of my new life.

  Beth arrives at my house with two friends in tow. The tall redhead with darkly tanned skin is named Kara and the short one with curly brown hair and cute little freckles dotting her face is Leslie. I’ve seen them around school and I know they’re friends of Beth’s but tonight is the first time I get to really spend any time around them.

  I appreciate Beth a hell of a lot for trying her hardest to include the new girl. I'm not exactly a people person, but lately I've been feeling the need to surround myself with someone or someone(s) I can trust.

  “It's pretty casual so maybe some heels and nice jeans,” Beth tells me as I sift through one of my closets. I need a good outfit for tonight, but I’m not really in the mood for heels.

  “How about this?” I ask, walking out in a dark red t shirt and faded blue skinny jeans. The black tattoo of a raven perched on a branch stretches over the side of my torso, peeking out from under the top where a sliver of skin shows in the front. I got it when I turned seventeen at a little shop over in Chicago. It's pretty badass but hurt like a bitch.

  I’ve paired the outfit with my worn black combat boots with the red soles and three silver rings. They don’t realize, but I’ve also tucked a very small pistol in the band of my jeans. On weekends especially, I don’t leave the house without it.

  Beth’s eyes travel over me—assessing.

  “Oh fuck off Angel, how do you always look so good? It's like you don't even try,” she complains, throwing her hands in the air in defeat.

  I don't know what she’s talking about since she literally looks like a Barbie come to life in her soft lavender sundress and white strappy sandals. Her golden hair is swept back into a messy bun at the base of her neck. She looks angelic.

  “Papa once told me something sort of wise,” I say as I sit down on the edge of the bed to lace up my boots. “He said—the more dressed up you are, the worse you’ll look in an emergency.”

  Silence greets me before the three girls burst into laughter. Tears shine in Beth’s eyes and I can't help but join them. Papa’s a crazy bastardo. Wearing bullet proof vests under your tuxedo isn't exactly functional, but I can't tell them how necessary it is.

  “Are you expecting a zombie apocalypse any time soon?” asks Kara. She's touching up her lipstick in my vanity mirror, but she watches us all with humor dancing in her blue eyes.

  I smirk, “Hey, I'm not ruling it out, but I’d rather squish some zombie heads in these bad boys instead of those pretty pumps,” I tease as I dramatically stroke my favorite stomping boots.

  “You guys are all idiots,” Les giggles before herding us out of my bedroom.

  We file out of the house and load into Kara’s Porsche before heading down the street. Word has it that the party is being held at one of the Brother’s houses—a detail I wasn't exactly thrilled to learn last minute. Those guys obviously hate me and I'm not too sure they'll appreciate me rocking up to the place like I was invited.

  ‘Oh well, fuck em.’

  ✽✽✽

  The house is massive.

  Actually, it would be better to refer to it as an estate—not a house. My parents’ main home is three times this size though, and has a parking attendant posted out front with a guard tower to mark the perimeter.

  This right here? It's small potatoes in the grand scheme of things.

  The party obviously started a while ago because the doors to the home are wide open and overflowing with high schoolers. They mill around in groups, sloshing beer over their cups and staggering around like gazelles.

  I hadn't been exposed to parties like this growing up—being at boarding school and all, but it doesn't mean I haven't snuck out a time or two in my rebellious moments. Parties in Manhattan tend to be on the tamer side while this just looks unhinged.

  It smells like alcohol and vomit, and so far I can tell the place will be trashed
come the morning. Couch pillows are strewn around the foyer and empty cups litter the marble flooring. The place is grand, to say the least and I don't doubt that they have a maid to clean it all up. I do pity the staff responsible for that. I can't help but cringe as I lift a boot to walk, only to hear and feel the ripping sound of some sticky substance gripping the soles of my shoes.

  Heading to the kitchen, Beth pulls me by the hand until we reach a large space with an island in the center topped with two kegs and an ice chest. Someone offers me a cup full of something red but I shake my head. Instead, I grab a cold bottle of beer from the cooler and pop the top on the edge of the kitchen counter before taking a long pull of the refreshing liquid. It's bitter and disgusting but it warms my belly and soothes my parched throat.

  “You don't trust very easily, do you?” drawls a lazy voice from beside me.

  I hadn't felt anyone approach and mentally curse myself for getting so lax.

  Turning on my heel, I meet the bright golden gaze of Captain Montgomery as he leans casually against the stainless steel refrigerator. He’s got a glass of whiskey in his hand and his crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the top—casually nonchalant. His silvery hair is combed to perfection, accentuating the otherworldliness of his eyes.

  I forgot for a while there, just how startling of a person he is to look at. I don't know what it is about the boys here that makes me feel weak in the knees like some hormonal teen.

  No, scratch that . . . it's not just any of the guys—it's the Brothers, specifically that make me feel detached from my body.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask before taking another sip of my beer. It's stale and warming up already, reminding me of why I always preferred Mama’s favorite Italian wine.

  Captain’s eyes flicker to the bottle in my hands before meeting my gaze again in amusement, raising a single pale eyebrow.

  I return the smile, “Maybe I'm just not an idiot.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Nah, it’s smart of you. I’m pretty sure someone dropped some E in there anyways,” he shrugs like it's no big deal. “Unless you're into that sort of thing, then by all means . . . help yourself.” He winks.

  “Hard pass, but thanks,”

  Captain stares at me for a moment, eyes the color of sunlight burning through me until I can feel the heat of them on my skin like a physical caress. That blank stare of his is doing things to my body that I admit I haven't felt in a long while.

  I'm no virgin. No, a certain somebody took care of that a long time ago, but it's been a while since I’ve let a member of the male species affect me this way.

  “I have to admit it’s pretty ballsy of you, showing up here knowing Carter’s on the warpath and all,” he warns, though I see the teasing glint there too.

  I snort.

  “Little boys like him don't scare me.” I shrug carelessly and his smile only grows, stretching across his face like some mischievous, fae type creature.

  Maybe that’s what unnerves me. He looks like a storybook character come to life and I can’t help the way my heart races when he’s near me.

  “Little boy, huh? That's a first.” He moves in closer, setting his glass down on the countertop beside him. My breath hitches as he invades my space. “Maybe little girls don't scare us either . . . maybe you don't quite realize the precarious position you've put yourself in.”

  “And what position is that?”

  His golden eyes flash to molten pools of amber.

  “I like it when you say the word position,” he whispers.

  It's then that I realize how close we've gotten. His chest is almost flush with mine and it's only now that I truly understand how tall he is. I'm not tall by anybody's standards, but this guy has to be topping six and a half feet at least. He’s basketball player tall—though something tells me athletics aren’t where his talents are.

  Something in his expression is distinctly predatory and incredibly sensual. There's a shadow there, contradicting everything else that shines so brightly on the surface.

  “What is it you want from me?” I ask bluntly. “There has to be something because the four of you have been watching me like a hawk since the day I parked my car in that spot.”

  He laughs, “You know—I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

  He brushes a knuckle along my cheek and it takes everything in me not to back away. I can't let him show dominance.

  “There are so many things I want from you . . .” His pale lashes lower and his golden gaze drops to my lips. Involuntarily, mine go to his as well. They look so soft and full, just begging for me to take a bite. “So many things I’m not allowed to have,” he adds in a whisper.

  Alcohol is fueling this mess, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  ‘I wonder what he tastes like . . .’

  Better than this beer, I’d hazard a guess.

  I don't know what's happening here, but I have just seconds to decide how I want this to play out. Do I let him kiss me and satisfy the curiosity that's been eating away at me since the moment I first laid eyes on him in the cafeteria? Or do I shove him away and bounce . . .

  I must take too long to decide because it's like the world fades around us as his lips meet mine. The touch is barely there—only a taste that has me craving more. I meet him the rest of the way, adding pressure where there was none. Flicking my tongue out, I feel him out only to hear him moan in response.

  He may be fucking with me, but I know there’s some part of him that is just as affected by me as I am by him. Whatever there is between us, neither of us can deny the chemistry pulsating between our bodies.

  I let his tongue tangle with mine, if only for a moment. I was right. He does taste better than my beer. He tastes sweet with just a hint of spice. He tastes like the expensive whiskey he’d been sipping only moments before. I’m lost in the spell he’s woven around me, but the moment I feel the tingle of his fingers grazing the bare skin of my torso, I snap out of it.

  My lips close and I pull away reluctantly. His fingers tighten around my waist ever so slightly before letting go. We both know this went too far and I can only hope that everyone around here is too drunk to notice or remember.

  “I—I really shouldn’t have done that . . .” I stutter as I back away quickly, smacking my hip into the island like an idiot.

  Captain simply stares at me. There's a curious expression on his face that's hard to place. He looks confused—and very turned on. The gold in his eyes is practically nonexistent the way his pupils are blown out. I know in my heart that the kiss wasn't some ploy to throw me off. This wasn't planned. He genuinely wanted to kiss me, and now that the curiosity was sated, what would he do?

  “I need to go,” I tell him, but I’m already turning away.

  He doesn't try to stop me. He just picks up the glass he’d set down and proceeds to tip it back and gulps the whole thing down in one go. He drinks it like a cold glass of water, making me cringe.

  I turn away, more than done with this unexpected interaction and head for the nearest door to the outside. I need to get out of this stifling place right now. I hadn’t planned on kissing strangers tonight—or any night for that matter.

  The air is thick and I can feel it crawling over my skin, making beads of sweat pop up. There's a huge glass door that leads out to an open patio area next to an in ground pool. Many of my classmates are swimming even though there's clearly still a chill in the air. The pool is heated, though, I can tell by the way small wisps of steam rise from its blue surface, lit up with pale lights that make the area glow calmly.

  The backyard is beautiful and just as manicured as the rest of the estate. To the left of me is a large wooden gazebo, lit by fairy lights that wind their way up the beams creating serene, ambient flickering that shines off the surface of the pool and the windows of the home. The party seems tamer out here. There's a small bonfire to the side of a bbq pit and several people have gathered around it to either sit on the stone benches
artfully surrounding it, or to stand in small groups with beer in their hands.

  I find myself calming down the longer I soak in the fresh air. Slowly, I make my way over to the fire pit. The heat of the flames licks my skin in a pleasant and comforting way. The orange light casts an eerie but beautiful glow on everyone around me. Several people nod in greeting as I settle myself in an open space close to the fire, but nobody talks to me and I make no attempt to insert myself into their business.

  Although standoffish, nobody seems to be outright hostile either. Actually, so far, aside from the Brothers, everyone seems pretty chill here. I think a part of me attributes this to the laid back atmosphere of the West Coast.

  Back in Manhattan, everyone always seemed to have a certain stony air about them that really threw up some walls. It was almost impossible to sniff out a genuine friend amongst those who would rather use you for a social climb.

  Being the Capo’s daughter made me vulnerable to those who knew. Women fawned over Sofia too in a way that I had not yet experienced. Since Papa had decided that sending me to boarding school was the right thing to do for most of my life, I was never really subjected to that part of the Mafia life. I was never the one being bartered with—auctioned and sold off to the highest bidder. But boarding school had its own dramas.

  Noise at the edge of the yard snaps me out of my own head. There's a hush that falls over the group of teenagers as I watch three boys walk through the side gate. I’ve never seen these guys before, but they look a bit older—maybe nineteen or twenty, I can't really tell.

  The two guys on the outer edges look like twins. They have matching reddish hair, cropped short with light brown eyes and tanned skin. The one in the middle of those two looks quite the opposite. His barely jaw length hair is nearly black, but those eyes of his are light blue, almost grey even, like the seas of the Caribbean during a storm. He’s just as tall as the other two, but much larger in stature. This guy clearly works out, and I can see the admiring glances bouncing around the groups of teen girls as they watch him stalk through the yard. They walk with a purpose, like they're here to start some shit.