“Move. Now,” he repeats, and that surprises the hell out of me. Chaz is never the one to repeat himself. Ever. I’ve been on the receiving end of his ire a time or two when he’s had to with me. The only thing it got me was a sore ass.
“As I said before,” Trevor growls out, his tone softening while still becoming deadly at the same time, “Brett said no one is to go inside, so no one will go inside.”
Such a sniveling weasel. I swear, I have no clue what I used to see in him. He never sticks up for himself; always standing behind someone else and their name. He is always the willing, little lapdog for the Kingston name. Like a master and his loyal hound. I laugh to myself by the mental picture of Trevor heeled at Brett’s feet, as the wanna-be king himself tosses him treats.
“Move now or I’ll move you,” Chaz threatens.
It’s so quiet, barely above a whisper, but the menaces in what he says is enough to give me chills. A lesser person would be shaking in their shoes or pissing themselves right now. The authority in his voice is like hearing an alpha’s roar in the wild. They don’t show their aggression, but when they do, you damn well better listen.
“Get fuc—” That’s all poor Trevor gets out when I hear a sickening thud, then the shattering of glass on the floor. If I had any feelings left for Trevor, I’d feel sorry for him right now. I would never wish, even on my worst enemy, for them to go against someone like Chaz. I don’t give a fuck if they have been trained in hand to hand combat.
I hear the sound of a heavy footfall, sounding like thunder right outside my door. I look up, instead of staring blankly at the wall in front of me, surprised to find that the door isn’t quaking in fear at the sounds on the other side.
“Telling you to move was not a goddamn request, you pathetic worm. It is time you learn your place is by our feet, not standing next to our sides. You never question me, boy. When I say fucking move next time, you better fucking hunt a hole to hide in, or I will fucking give you one—a six-foot fucking deep one.”
A grunt sounds ensures, before the clatter of a body slamming against the wall on the other side of the hallway, reaches my ears and has my hackles rising. I hear a few grunts and groans, then the loud slap of what sounds like a body freefalling to the floor.
In the next moment, what I can presume are Chaz’s shitkickers, shadow the space underneath the door. My entire body begins to shake, but at this moment I don’t know if it’s in anticipation or fear. What’s he doing?
I know we sometimes skirt around each other, and there’s been a few close calls. But something tells me that if he gets in here, I won’t be coming out the other end unscathed. Probably naked and well-used is the best bet.
I stand, watching as the doorknob starts to turn at a pace achingly slow. At this pace, he’s never going to get the door open, and I’m not going to lie—I’d be totally fine if he didn’t. I’m still upset by the other night, probably will be for the next foreseeable future. There’s only so many times a girl doesn’t get to nut before she becomes a heinous bitch.
I hear the tumblers inside the antique knob click into place, then the door pops open with flourish and eases the rest of the way. I’m sitting ramrod straight now, nearly pissing myself.
“Brat …” he states in a commanding tone, just as the door swings the rest of the way open. I’m not going to lie, but my body is shaking right now with just the thought of what he may do.
But instead of allowing my wariness to show, I grab my big girl panties up and pull them high. “What do you want?” I ask in a snarky tone, trying my best to hide my nerves. Do I really need to poke this huge fucking grizzly right now? No, probably not. But will i?
You bet your sweet ass I will. Chaz deserves every piece of snark I can give him. There’s never been a time where I’ve started shit first with them, sexual or none, and dropped them like a hot tamale. Chaz has done it twice, within the span of a few months. The only one that seems to go through with his actions is Brett, but he’s really not on my list of good people right now.
A light flash of something enters his eyes as what I said must register. I know I shouldn’t be such a smart ass—because, hello, I’m surrounded by nothing but dipshits and guys working against me—but when a person is as low as they can do, they don’t give a shit.
I am all out of fucks to give. Theirs is literally nothing they can hold over my head that will make me fall in line now. To hell with the consequences speaking out gets me. I’ve been speaking up against them since the first day. There have been some instances where I’ve crossed the line, but those are few and far between. Doesn’t mean the punishments are going to extinguish this fire burning inside me. I’m not a goddamn lacky that follows them—I feel like I’m destined for so much more that settling.
What Brett said is right; I am a queen.
But I’m just not his.
I make my own rules, for my own life. No one is going to change that.
No person will cause me to disappear until I’m nothing but an emotionless husk.
I am not my mother.
CHAPTER 12
BRETT
She deserves nothing but the quickest death. And when I can get close to her, I’m going to deliver it swiftly.
He’s completely obsessed with her. Like, over the hills obsessed. Ever since we came back from our trip to the East, I saw the instant that the way he acted around her had changed. He’s acting as if he’s paying a penance and just the very scent of her drives him insane enough to regret all his decisions.
She doesn’t deserve any of the shit my father bestowed her with. And she’s right there, by his side, where she’s not supposed to be. She’s nothing more than a well-groomed whore for her family. He should do exactly what is expected of him and toss her to the side for the other men to use. He had no problem doing that before and shouldn’t have a problem doing that now.
Women like her are only good for one thing. Sex. They are put here to take our minds off the turmoil of our daily lives, then fade into the shadows as if they never existed in the first place.
Not that I have something against our women, or women in general. I just have something against her. She knows she is nothing more than a well-treated whore, yet she’s acting like she owns everything she lays her eyes on.
No. My father owns it all, along with the other two families. There are four founding families, but the other is completely non-existent, having disappeared like a thief into the night.
She is a whore, from a long generation of whores. She is a woman we are to use for mere bodily pleasure only, without thought of her or her feelings.
It’s been this way for several months, and it doesn’t look like there is an end in sight. He’s maniacal; his business sense completely imploding, and none of us can fathom why. It happened shortly after that lecherous bitch weaseled her way in, whispering in his ear about things. I can remember the day as plainly as if it were yesterday.
She began acting like she was a queen and we were her loyal servants.
And he allows her to do so. Even though Brat hasn’t saw her yet, it’s not going to be long before she does. My father isn’t the type to hide his little whores, and she’s the biggest of all. Not being able get with me, so she decided to settle with my father. Disgusting bitch.
She’s condemned every person within his vicinity, more than once, and didn’t care just as long as she had him right where she wanted him. She even threw me to the wolves by somehow finding out about my extracurricular activities.
They say true evil lies within your nightmares, creeping in from all sides. But that’s simply not true.
True evil comes in the form of long legs, svelte body, and demonic, cerulean eyes that always hold a glimmer of menace. She has a hidden agenda, and I can only hope that whatever it is, she doesn’t succeed.
Today, now, that’s a completely different story. All because those assholes out East screwed up another shipment before I could take care of it. It’s the third shipment of
women we haven’t received, and even if my father thinks it’s just business, I can’t allow him to find out that’s nothing of the sort.
There have been plenty of times I’ve tried to tell him we no longer need to dabble in that side of business. The first time, I received a backhand and bloodied lip.
At the time, I was ten. My nuts hadn’t even dropped yet, and he was already trying to snip them off, so I’d be a mindless zombie following his every decision.
The second time, I’d just turned thirteen. I excelled in all areas of business at the academy, so I knew we could essentially drop the dubious acts and turn legit. I knew there were other ways to earn money that would make us more influential with the community.
So, I began dabbling behind his back, which was my first mistake. I started having shipments fuck up one way or the other, while pretending they were these normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill problems that come with nefarious businesses.
Instead, I personally sank my savings into investments while hiring out those contracts. Made a few good choices here. Some bad ones there. But in the end, it started going in our direction.
When he found out about my investments, he went nuclear. It wasn’t the fact that I was using my newfound knowledge in business to project the family’s wealth and statuses, it was the fact that I was doing that instead of learning how to run things. No matter that our net worth was more than triple what it had been when I turned sixteen.
The only thing that mattered was that I was not sticking to the status quo. I was forming a new path, dropping the old way in the dirt behind me as I went.
That night ended with him branding me between the shoulder blades—a crown to show who I belong to.
A mark of ownership it’s said to be in our family.
However, I don’t see it as such. Call me crazy, but I never have. Never will, either. I wear the mark of my family crest with pride, knowing what it means—what the future holds because of it.
Every day, I see that mark in the mirror and know, without a doubt, that the founding family’s belief system will change once I take over.
That thought alone is the only thing that gets me through his treatment; the only thing I look forward to. A future where no one has to live in fear from the wrath of the founding families. A future where it isn’t frowned upon to trust, love, and keep people close to you.
A future I anticipate and will see before I take my last breath. Unlike other things I’d rather not be part of.
I certainly don’t anticipate the girl my father picked out for me to wed. Arabella’s fucking daughter and Alaric’s twin sister. Not that I don’t want to, but because I want it to be her goddamn decision.
She won’t if it’s left up to my father. He assures me he has her right where he wants her. But the thing is—I don’t want what he wants. I don’t want a Plaything for a wife.
I want an equal.
I need her to be strong, sassy, and have a backbone made of iron.
I put her through the wringer for a reason. So that when I finally take possession of her, and her me, I want to see if she can withstand the torment. Who knows the kind of people that will get their hands on her? I don’t want a weak wife that will spill her guts to every influential man threatening to break a nail. If she can handle that, then she can handle anything. Then, I’ll let her in on what I have planned.
She just needs to be able to see past all the bullshit and see the truth. Something I will have to shield from her to keep my father from finding out my plan.
A plan that neither Dorran nor Chaz are part of, either. I can’t trust them yet, even if my gut screams at me to allow them that small reprieve. But even I’m not that strong yet. Most of my plans have failed, but I’m more determined now than ever for this one to work. It will take all four of us to dethrone my father and change the ways.
The first step is hers, even if she doesn’t know it. And I’m going to tell them everything when we get back from this job out East if they can prove themselves. I’m tired of the lies and secrets. I’m tired of going through the hallways, pretending the sun shines out of Joaquin’s ass. I loathe that motherfucker more than I do the bitch that carried me.
He’ll get everything he deserves and more.
And it starts with Ariyal.
Making my way through the hallway, I stop by the door that leads to the basement. There’ no time for second guessing my decision, because this must be done together. I need her safe, even when I can’t be here to do it.
Opening the door, I bellow to the workers down below, “C, get the fuck up here! I have something you need to do.”
CHAPTER 13
“Cat got your tongue, big boy?”
I roll my eyes and start inspecting my cuticles. Chaz says nothing, just continues to stare at me to the point the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Then finally, he walks into the room, but slowly and scarily, closes the door behind him. So quietly, in fact, that it only makes the barest of noises when it clicks in place.
He just stands there in front of the door, not saying anything. The little bastard is sizing me up, probably thinking about the shit I just said, which is causing him to swell in size from anger. I don’t know why I’m being so ballsy all of a sudden. I mean, I do know the reason why. But something about his actions begs me to be cautious. As if he’s a man on the edge, and the smallest reaction out of his acceptability, will have him striking like a vicious cobra.
“Say what you want and get the fuck out.” What the fuck am I doing?!
“I came here to talk to you,” he says, looking so earnest it nearly breaks my heart. Nearly. Not quite enough. Yet. “There’s thing you need to know, and I’m tired of hiding them.” He’s probably talking about the whole queen thing. Well, better luck next time, your buddy already beat you to the punch.
I give him a less than savory glare. “Like I care. Now go, I’m trying to rest.”
Am I trying to rest? Fuck no. But at this time, I really don’t want him to be so near me. Not after our last two fiascos. When I know there isn’t anyone else close enough on this floor that will hear me if I scream. I also don’t necessarily know which type of screaming, either.
I need to stop while I’m ahead. Nothing good can come out of me growing a set of balls now; not when everything is on their side. I’m in their home, surrounded by their people—I have no one.
Fuck, they even have my twin locked away somewhere. Haven’t seen him since he drove us back.
I never see him move, nor flinch in my direction. But from one heartbeat to the next, he’s across the room and ripping me up from my place on the floor mattress, coming face to face with me. I can smell the scent of the minty toothpaste he uses. It mixes beautifully with his manly musk. Mouthwatering is all I have to say, and I can’t deny that it isn’t heating up my lady bits as well.
“I’m about tired of your back talking and smart-ass mouth. Keep talking and I’ll find a way to douse that issue,” he tells me as I see a flash of excitement enter his cerulean gaze.
“How is that, hm?” Fuck me, I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me; slit my throat and leave me for dead, all because I couldn’t learn how to keep my goddamn mouth shut.
I quake in his grasp, gulping hard when his big, vice-like fist encircles my throat. He’s not applying enough pressure to cut off my oxygen. Yet. But it is enough to let me know he’s dead serious. I have my—tiny in comparison—fingers gripping his wrist as he holds me, almost to the point I’m on my tiptoes so we can be nose to nose.
Whatever I thought he was going to say, whether it be that he was going to gag me or cut my tongue out, is not what he finally admits. No, it’s so much worse. So, so much worse because it makes me ravenous for something, I have no need in wanting.
“First of all, you sassy bitch—I want you to wrap this cock tease of a mouth around my dick, then we’ll go from there,” he explains, running his thumb over my bottom lip. It causes me to shiver, even though I’m already a
trembling mess from his crude language.
The thing is, I don’t know if it’s a shiver of excitement or apprehension.
“You can’t be serious,” I gasp out. I know we had some close calls, but nothing ever came from them. Well, besides the fact that I was left with an aching in my pelvis for hours, upon hours afterward.
I watch as his breathing starts to speed up, as if he anticipates what’s about to happen. Fuck, I don’t even know what’s happening, only that it needs to happen right now before I pass out. The only thing I do know, without absolutely certainty, is I’m dripping wet and so ready. No matter what comes my way.
He jerks me closer, startling a squeak from between my parted lips. His breath skates over my ear; my eyes fall to half-mast at the feeling of sensual air wisping across my face. “Did I stutter? I said to wrap your cock-teasing lips around my dick. Now, be a good little girl and get on your knees.”
Before I can protest—or I think I want to protest, I’m too confused and aroused to say anything different—he grabs ahold of the back of my neck and pushes me toward the floor. I dare to raise my eyes to his as I descend to the floor and kneel. At this angle, he looks powerful and sexy as hell—with one hand on his hip and the other snaking around so his fingers can weave through my locks of hair.
His lip is trapped between his teeth as he waits for me to start obeying his command. My eyes narrow, weighing if I should accept the challenge or not. I know I shouldn’t, because things can really get ugly between us. But then again, I can’t stop myself from succumbing to the tantalizing allure.
Also, it’s already a fucking mess where Chaz and I are concerned. Nothing is going to fuck it up more, and that includes going down this road with him. But if he thinks this is going to be easy, then he’s sorely mistaken. He is going to be eating out of the palm of my hand by the time I’m finished with him.
Dirty Little Secret: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 3) Page 10