I mentally do not want to react, but I can’t physically make myself stop.
Chaz’s eyes burn into the side of my face, begging me to look at him. The same feeling has been with me since I stepped foot in here, but I refuse to give him the pleasure. What he did last night is not acceptable, and Brett pegged exactly what happened, as if he were there and knew about it.
Regardless, the asshole left me in a state of no return, knowing how my body works and doesn’t work. He’s known for months, watching how only their fucking touch can get me off. How I’m so fucking broken, grasping at straws, that I physically throw myself at them every chance I get. Even if that’s not my knowledgeable choice, it’s taken away from me every time.
It’s maddening, because it didn’t use to be like that. I could get myself off with the best of them. Now, after everything I’ve been through, there’s that small part of me that feels shattered. I know it’s silly, because I’m standing here in one piece, with not even a crack. But if anyone were to take a closer inspection, they’d see that behind the carefully erected wall is a girl clinging to keep them all in one piece. However, the stronger she holds on, the more she chips and crumbles.
Last night, Chaz caused a piece of that wall to crack and fall away. He did so with little remorse, acting as if it’s so easy to turn hatred and lust on and off for someone. With what he did at the clothing store, then yesterday, I honestly don’t know how much more I can take. I’m either going to shatter and go bat shit crazy, or completely lose the person I’ve tried hard to work my way back to since my mother passed away.
“Seems your plaything is a little hungry, son.” A resounding chuckle brings me out of my thoughts to see I am once again blatantly staring at Brett’s cock.
I am hungry. Starving. Ravenous for a taste of completion.
CHAPTER 9
My attention is on the floor as I follow behind the guys. We make our way out of the dining room in formation, with me heading up the tail end of the line. I don’t go as far as putting my hands behind my back, but what the fuck ever, they should just be happy they’re getting this.
Especially at this moment, where I’m as much of a mess as I am.
Two days. That’s all it’s taken them to knock me off my horse and turn my entire world upside down. And not just them, either. I’m also talking about the new addition—Trevor. The love of my goddamn life that said he’d rather see me dead than here.
Still don’t know what he means by that, and I have an inkling that I never will. Trevor has always been a solitary person, even when we were together. However, I never—not for one moment in time—thought that what we had was nothing.
It was everything.
Just having Trevor by my side got me through some terrible times, the death of my mother and all that followed being the worst. I’m not even going to say the night Joaquin branded and took me against my will, because even that night didn’t pain me as much as my life did several months later.
I lost everything—had to build my way from the ground up, repairing cracks and fractures in my soul just to be able to function.
Trevor was there for every single second. Well, every moment that he didn’t have to be out here, doing God knows what with … No. I know what he was doing. He was being trained for this very job.
Joaquin probably did this to get a sense of sick satisfaction out of forcing two exes’ together—one of which still, even now, has a small bit of love for the other. It’s not like I can just turn it off, either. For me, our relationship was real. He’s the one that took my virginity; the person I trusted with my life when I had no one else to turn to.
People like him is also the reason why women like me put this invisible protective layering around us. He’s the threat you don’t see coming, and that’s because you don’t suspect there to be any problem. He legit came out of nowhere, as nothing to me, and swiftly became so much more.
As we exit into the foyer, both Chaz and Dorran fan out around Brett. My eyes barely flick up at them, before they’re once more falling back to the floor. They act like geese flying to the south for winter, in the shape of a triangle and everything.
You know, scientist say that the reason geese fly in a formation like that is to stop from having so much resistance, and that the bird flying at the front of the pack is the strongest. I don’t know how much of that is true, but I do know one thing—these guys may have grown up together, but that doesn’t mean they trust one another.
How can you trust someone when it’s clear they’re withholding something from you? I saw it in Dorran almost immediately at Reighton, outside our dorms when he tackled me to the ground. I’ve seen flickers in Chaz’s eyes. But until now, I’ve never seen anything remotely intriguing or secretive in Brett’s gaze.
At least, not until I catch myself peering up at him through my lashes to see his eyes on me. The expression on his face causes me worry. It’s not the type of expression I’ve seen before, and I can’t be sure if it’s because he’s in his childhood home, or if he’s in his element. But if Brett’s face is as relaxed as it is now, then I’m almost betting something is about to happen. He’s going to push me in some way or test me on God knows what. He does love his tests.
“Brat, there’s something we want to show you,” I vaguely him say, because it’s so low, almost near a whisper, and I have to crane my head forward just to be sure I caught it right.
“We’re going to the basement.” I see the other two share a cautious look between the both of them.
Oh, shit. My eyes briefly flit to Dorran’s, seeing his widen imperceptibly, flicking toward me, before shooting back to Brett. From what little Dorran’s told me, which is extremely slim—the basement is not a place I want to find myself in. He didn’t have to explain any further than that.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dorran inserts, and it actually looks like he’s nervous, shuffling back and forth in his place.
Brett stops, then abruptly turns toward him. “Are you questioning me?”
Something silently passes between the both of them, causing Dorran’s jaw to tick in anger. “She doesn’t belong down there, man.” Since when did he start caring where I belong?
Brett’s eyes flick over Dorran’s shoulder, presumably looking in the direction of the dining room. “We need to show her the basement,” he urges once more, and there’s something in his voice that gives me pause. He almost sounds … pleading. “Now.”
Both, Chaz and Dorran, seem to sense the same thing I do, but before we can move from our spots, I feel an ominous presence looming just behind me. I instantly turn into a block of ice, freezing. A shiver races up my spine, causing all my hair to stand on end. There’s also this funny tingling feeling that ensues.
I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is behind me. I feel it and it instantly shoots repulsion through my entire being. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Not if I want to stay alive long enough to think of a way out of here.
A large, rough hand envelops one ass cheek, squeezing to the point of pain. My body begins aching from standing so still and motionless.
“Chaz, son, you’ll have to take a raincheck on this little visit. You, too, Dorran. I have something I need both of you see to.” Joaquin’s hand tightens further, causing a squeak to release from between my lips. I clamp them together tighter, eyes flicking up to Brett.
I don’t expect him to do anything about it, because he’s yet to say anything out of turn to his father besides a few harsh words to make him stop. But outwardly going against him? No. I don’t think Brett is capable of something like that.
“Father,” Brett grits out.
I know he can see the pleading in mine, because I can also see beseeching in his. He’s trying to tell me to stay still and that he’ll handle it, but honestly, I’m not sure he will be able to. What’s to stop his father from doing whatever he wants to me? It most certainly didn’t stop him years ago in that warehouse.
&nbs
p; Brett really isn’t the big dog around here, and I have a feeling the knowledge of that really gets under his skin. If I’m pegging this correctly, he’s been raised to lead people ever since he started walking, probably ever since he was in diapers. So, even with it being his father, he’s probably having a hard time taking orders from him. Or allowing him to touch his property.
If it’s a choice between Brett, Dorran, and Chaz or Joaquin—I’ll choose the guys and all their torturous abuse any day of the week. I’d thrive in my pain, and revel in their animosity.
“Oh, allow an old man a few liberties, won’t you?”
“Not. Her.” Brett grinds out, then amazes me by strutting toward me and ripping me out of his father’s hold. His hand pinches the inside of my bicep from his forceful removal, but the only thing I feel is gratitude. Which is weird if I’m being honest.
Joaquin releases a barrel of laughter. “Oh, son, you do amuse me.”
“We can’t say the same,” Chaz fumes.
My heart shoots up to my throat at that, sure that Joaquin’s going to retaliate in some way. It seems that both Dorran and Chaz can talk back to him, but Brett only manages a light scolding. What’s with that? It’s as if both of them don’t care about the weight Brett’s father carries in their world. And if they don’t care, then maybe I shouldn’t either?
When he turns to go, he makes it a single step before he stops and looks back over his shoulder. He doesn’t look at any of the guys. Only me. His attention gives me the willies. It gives me the same feeling I got back in the warehouse, right before he branded and took me against my will.
“Surely, you must remember I had a taste of your precious plaything already.” His eyes pin me to my spot; his lecherous gaze making me sick to my stomach. “She receives very well. Perfect posture. Perfect pussy.” He licks his lips, causing nausea to rise into my throat. “Now, if you’ll follow me, boys, there’s much work to be done.”
He takes off in the direction of his office. Chaz and Dorran shoot a look in our direction, actually toward Brett, and it isn’t until he gives a slight nod of permission do they follow after Joaquin. Both shoot small smiles toward me, but I can’t help but feel like it’s them asking for forgiveness.
Forgiveness for what? I’m still cross with both of them for leaving me the way they did. A few smiles and niceties aren’t going to change that.
“This way, Brat.” Brett doesn’t wait for me to acknowledge him before he starts walking in the direction of what he needs to show me.
A sense of foreboding washes through me with each step, the air seemingly growing cooler in temperature. My eyes travel over Brett’s back, seeing his muscles bunch and release, as if he’s inwardly trying to talk himself off the ledge.
I don’t get it. If he hates his father so much, he needs to do something about it. There is a hierarchy here at Kingston Manor, and all it would take is one person to remove themselves from the equation to have it all tumble down around him. Just one. And it if it were Brett, then Joaquin wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
With a growl, Brett taps at a little square or panel looking thing next to the door, and the sound of tiny, electronic beeps sound out, like he’s imputing a password in or something. Something like this is important to know, if I ever need to use what’s behind this door to my advantage.
Shifting slightly, I try to peer around him. Except, it doesn’t work. Every step I take, he matches. If I go to far, he’s liable to know what I was trying to do and punish me for it.
After he inputs the numbers and the door clicks its acceptance, I try to swallow past the lump in my throat whenever he backs up and allows me to enter before him. My skin grows warm and feverish. Palms clammy and sweaty. My heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest.
I hate surprises. Absolutely hate the thought of the unknown. And what’s behind this door is new to me; I can’t even see beyond the doorway. Everything on the other side is dark, like it’s the doorway leading to a bottomless abyss.
“I’m not going in there.” I don’t even take the time to think about what I’ve said before it’s already flying out of my mouth.
Brett releases a huff of exasperation, then grabs me by the bicep, forcing me into the room. Before I can even fight him off, he’s already got the door closed behind him and we’re showered in darkness. The only thing I can sense is his closeness, the heat of his body as if he’s wrapping himself around me.
Then all of a sudden, the air slams out of my lungs as, what I assume is his hand, meets the front of my chest. He shoves me hard and my back hits a hard, unforgiving wall with his body following close behind.
“If he ever touches you again, I’ll kill him.” My hearts plummets to the pit of my stomach. “You belong to Me, Chaz, and Dorran. If anyone else even points a finger in your direction, you come to me. Is that understood?”
“But—”
He pushes harder. “I said, is that understood?”
I take my lip between my teeth in a nervous gesture, biting it. “Yes, Sir Kingston.”
The fact I cannot see his face while he’s making this threat terrifies me. I’m not usually the type to scare easily, but there’s something about this man standing in front of me that can make me cower. A darkness that rests inside him where it does not hold a place in the other bluebloods that run in his circle.
“Good.”
He reminds me of Trevor, in a way. Callous, cruel, deranged—Brett makes the Joker in the movie Batman look like child’s play. He’s always three steps ahead of his competition. However, you don’t know who his competition is until he’s already got you cornered and cowering for your life.
“But you can’t even—”
He slams what sounds like his fist against the wall beside my head. My hair moves from the abrupt shift in air, forcing me to choke back a squeak of surprise. “If you haven’t figured out the game now, Brat, you’re never going to.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper harshly, afraid to bring my voice higher in the instance that someone might overhear.
In the next moment, I feel the entire front of his body press against mine. I startle when both hands cup the sides of my face. Something is seriously wrong with Brett; has been since we arrived from RPA. He’s been more closed off, more docile.
That’s not him, even when he is surrounding by intelligent, powerful men. I’ve seen him and the others in action before, and he’s the only one I have seen that cowers to Joaquin.
It’s a sight, where even a stranger, would know that it goes against Brett’s very DNA. He is not made up of the things a follower is, neither are the other two. They’re meant to lead.
“Every action has a reaction,” he says in a sullen tone, then shifts ever so slightly. “Up ahead is what we call the basement; a place we run our operation, peddling women and other illegal contraband. A place, sooner or later, you will be forced to visit. Your, as well as our, actions will cause my father to react.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I inquire, wishing I could gaze upon his face in a moment like this, just to see if I could read him and figure out if his intentions are pure or seeded with darkness.
“I want you prepared,” he answers honestly, surprising me. He’s never given up information like this before. Something must be in it for him.
“For what?”
He sighs. “In chess, the queen, more often than not, is sacrificed for the king.”
What the hell does chess have to do with any of this? Literally, Brett is talking in circles, and I have no idea which way is up or down by this point.
First, he’s all brooding, domineering, and just a plain out asshole.
Now, he’s a philosopher, leading me to believe there’s some holier than thou reason to his actions that involve a game of chess.
The fuck?
I nod, even though he can’t see me—even though I’m so confused my head hurts—then I do so verbally, “Yes. What does that have to do with me, though
?”
“Ahh, Brat—” The sensual caress of stubble travels along my jawline as he presses his face against mine. “Who do you think my chosen queen is?”
I damn near swallow my tongue with the insinuation and truth mingling in his voice.
CHAPTER 10
CHAZ
I swear on everything that is holy, I will kill Joaquin Kingston. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, but I will find something to use against him and sanction the goddamn kill.
He’s ruined more lives than he’s helped since his tyranny began decades ago, and it’s about time for his rule to come to an end. The way he runs things is not how they’re supposed to be ran. My father, and even Dorran’s, gets no say in the matter of decisions. It’s one of the reasons my father no longer travels from our estate to come here.
He’s distancing himself from the founding families, and I need to be doing the same thing. If I weren’t so involved, maybe I could. But as it is, neither of the other two have the grit and stomach to pull off the things I do. They don’t call me that horrid nickname for the fun of it.
I earned that goddamn name when I watched some sick, twisted son of a bitch rape my mother when I was eleven. I had to sit by while Joaquin, allowed some man to take her for my father even daring to mention leaving the family. When that happened, my entire mind blanked. The moment I came to, I realized I had gutted him like a fish with one of his knives.
Only a sick, twisted soul could do something like that at that age and still be able to sleep well at night. And I do. I sleep like a fucking baby. All in the name of being able to do it to someone else when I get the chance.
The only thing that seems to get to me is that tiny woman that came into our lives. I never expected, in my wildest dreams, to fall as hard and swift as I did. The only way I could keep her from finding out my true feelings was to turn into a major prick. Knowing someone’s true feeling and dreams is considered a weakness in this group. And a weakness is not tolerated.
Dirty Little Secret: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 3) Page 8