Reckless Rules: The Elites Of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy

by Hart, Rebel

  “Let’s see if you really know what it means to be a good little girl,” he groans. “You broke the rules, so now you know we have to punish you.”

  Before I can even begin to guess what he’s planning to do, he whips me around toward the door. I am shocked as he leads me out into the hall, Trey and Vincent following behind.

  “I told you my parents are downstairs,” I remind him, thinking surely he won’t be so bold as to march me right out in front of them.

  “Good,” he retorts, unfazed. “I would like to meet your mom. I’ve already met your dad of course. Your real dad.”

  “Well, that makes one of us,” I muster through a gulp as he practically pushes me down the stairs. I pray my mom comes around the corner and catches the way he’s handling me, but he’s too smart for that. He’d never let himself get caught.

  “Ophelia!” she cries in innocent excitement as we round the corner of the kitchen. “I didn’t even know you were home! Much less that you had company!”

  Emmett’s fingers pinch into my spine, just out of her sight. His fingernails sting the thin skin against my bone, causing me to wince. I am tempted to show how much it hurts. To jerk away from him and see what my mom actually does.

  “Oh yeah,” I play along, deciding to keep them out of this. If the Elites can take down millionaires and convince major universities to deny a potential student, it would be nothing for them to ruin everything my mom and Brendan have worked so hard for. I can’t be the reason that happens. “I went out for a run. I just got back.”

  Her eyes look to the three guys expectantly, causing Emmett’s fingers to twist even harder into my back.

  “These are my friends!” I shout quickly, hoping he’ll ease his pinch. “I ran into them while I was out.”

  “I remember you from the hospital,” she shakes her head, looking like she feels foolish for not remembering sooner. “Emmett, right?”

  I see Brendan’s ears perk up from the kitchen at the mention of his name.

  “And of course I know you two,” she nods politely to Trey and Vincent, making my stomach turn.

  “How are you, Mrs. Lopez?” they chime in almost comedic unison.

  “Wonderful! How are you? And how is your mother!?”

  My mom’s small talk with them fades into the background as I look up to Emmett, searching his face for any clue of what’s supposed to happen next. But he just smiles and plays along.

  “It’s kind of late for houseguests,” Brendan finally jumps in, taking an authoritative stance behind my mom. His eyes are glued to Emmett. He still doesn’t trust him after the accident.

  “Yes, of course,” Emmett agrees politely. “We were actually hoping we could take Ophelia out to a movie. If that would be alright with you?”

  “Are you driving?” Brendan quips back, not missing a beat.

  I smile up at Emmett in anticipation of his temper emerging, blowing their whole cover. But he’s too smooth for that.

  “Actually, no,” he laughs. “Vincent is this time. I promise we’ll take good care of her. And we’ll have her home as soon as the movie is over.”

  “What are you going to see?” my mother asks sweetly, causing my heart to drop as I realize they’re actually going to let them get away with this.

  “There are a few things starting soon,” Trey explains. “We were gonna decide when we get there.”

  My mom looks up to Brendan for final approval, but her eyes seem to be trying to convince him to say yes. I want him to look at me instead of her. To somehow telepathically read into my suppressed dread.

  “I do have school early tomorrow…” I remind them gently, fully prepared for Emmett’s responsive twist into my back. But Brendan seems to read it as some kind of reverse psychology, much to my disappointment.

  “Well then…don’t be out too late,” he says finally, sparking an erupting of nervous sighs from the guys around me. “You haven’t gotten out much with friends since you got here, Ophelia. You’ve been working too hard. It’ll be good for you to have some fun.

  Ha, I think. Fun. Somehow, I don’t expect much fun to come out of this. At least not for me.

  “Great, thanks so much,” Emmett says sweetly. His façade of innocence and niceness making me sick. “We’ll bring her home as soon as the movie is over.”

  I eye my mom desperately as they turn and push me toward the door, but she must be mistaking my fear for nerves or something else. Some other kind of normal teenage girl behavior. She responds with a wink and a wave before the two turn back for the kitchen.

  They laugh victoriously as they shove me out to the car. We’re all dead silent as we drive with me sandwiched in the backseat between Trey and Vincent. I catch Emmett glancing back at me every few seconds through the rearview, and I can’t help but laugh about his blatant lie to Brendan about not being the one to drive tonight.

  I hold my breath in anticipation of whatever happens next. Did this have something to do with what Liam seemed to be hinting at? Whatever it was he looked so sorry for? What my dad was worried I needed help with? But that can’t be. The Hendersons and the Elites are working against each other now.

  But to my amazement, they take me to the movie theater. I still expect it to be a front, even as they approach the counter and buy us tickets.

  We file into the theater and find seats. I follow along like a lost puppy, completely at their mercy. I know it’s no use to try and get away. This whole town is full of their puppets, and no one would help me when they inevitably caught up to me.

  Trey and Vincent even bought popcorn. They try to sit on either side of me the way we were arranged in the car, but Emmett snaps at them, demanding them to move aside so he can sit next to me.

  “Move over, idiots,” he hisses, pushing them out of the way and sitting down next to me. I search his face for some kind of emotion, but he’s blank and avoiding eye contact.

  The whole thing is chillingly normal. Just a group of teens going to the movies. I want to rest in that, but my nerves won’t settle enough to let me. I know something is coming.

  Vincent sits on the outside with Trey next to me. Once the movie starts, I can feel his gaze burning into me.

  I almost laugh when I realize we’re watching some old slasher horror flick. Of course that’s the kind of thing they’d bring me to see. Forcing me to sit here and watch them get off on half naked girls running away terrified in the night, screaming in terror before they inevitably get slashed to bits.

  I side-eye Trey as I realize he’s still watching me instead of the movie. I try not to make eye contact, but his sneering lips are practically drooling as he grins at me.

  “What?” I snap in a whisper, wishing he’d move the fuck over. But his arm inches further across the arm rest, taking up even more of my space.

  He says nothing, and Emmett is distracted, looking straight ahead at the screen. A few seconds later, his arms inches even closer. His hand touches my knee and swiftly moves upward.

  “Get off of me!” I hiss, trying to push his hand away.

  “Come on,” he whines. “I’m bored. Let me touch you. I’m tired of watching Emmett have all the fun.”

  His hand persists, trying to catch a handful of my breasts. I kick him away, the shuffle prompting a series of shushes from the back of the theater.

  This catches Emmett’s attention as he snaps to, looking over just in time to catch Trey’s hand recoiling from my chest. Suddenly Emmett’s hand darts out across me, catching Trey’s hand in a tight grip. I can see their skin turning white and red from the force of his grasp.

  “Don’t fucking touch her,” Emmett growls, his neck bulging with wide eyes as he stares Trey down.

  Thinking back on one of my first encounters with them, and how Emmett seemed to even encourage other guys having their way with me…whatever it took to humiliate me, I am surprised at his sudden protectiveness.

  Trey finally fights his hand free, glaring at Emmett with wrinkled brows as he rubs to self-s
oothe the bright red skin of his wrist. “Jeez, man,” he yelps. “Chill out.”

  Emmett’s eyes barely cross mine as he turns back to the big screen. I try to ignore how much it turns me on to feel protected by him in some way. Even if he’s also my attacker at times, it’s almost sweet in a sick and twisted way that he wants to be the only one bringing me harm.

  Jesus Christ, Ophelia. He has really fucked you up in the head.

  Even still, I can’t help but glance up at him every so often, wishing this could be like a normal date with a guy I’m attracted to. That all the bad history between us and crazy events at play could just suspend in time temporarily. He could brush my hand over a shared bucket of popcorn. I could jump and scream when the killer in the movie pops out, sending his arms around me in protection with a comforting laugh. Maybe we’d even hold hands and kiss.

  But that’s not for Emmett and I. Or at least not for him. He’s too fucked up, as Malcolm would say. And I’m just the idiot girl caught up in it all. Not knowing what’s good for me enough to be able to stop these feelings.

  The rest of the movie is uneventful, but I never feel at ease with them. I’m on high alert the entire time in anticipation of what comes next. It almost scares me more that we make it through the rest of it without incident. By the time the credits are rolling, I realize I’ve barely paid attention to a single second of the film. I was too caught up in a daze of uneasiness and dread. Expecting them to do something crazy at any minute.

  But no. The credits roll and we stand to exit the theater. I realize whatever they’re planning will probably happen now and my heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe as we approach the car again. I wish I could be back inside, not paying attention to another movie.

  This time, Vincent drives and Trey sits in the passenger seat, leaving me alone in the back with Emmett. At least there’s some distance between us.

  As soon as I have the thought of gratitude, his arms wrap around me tightly, one hand wriggling down to unbuckle my seatbelt before he drags me into his lap.

  “What the fuck are you doing!?” I shout, kicking and squirming to get away.

  “We’re gonna take a little drive,” he explains in a hauntingly snide tone. “And I want you close to me.”

  All I can think of is the last time these fuckers took me for a drive, and the time after that when Emmett tried again to lure me away in his car. My hands and arms flail frantically for escape, but he quickly grips onto me in every direction. He holds me down long enough to secure his stretched seat belt over the both of us. With one arm held firmly across my chest, holding my arms down, a black cloth falls over my eyes.

  “No!” I yell hopelessly, not wanting to be blindfolded. But the cloth ties tight across my vision, blocking out the outside world. “Emmett, please…don’t do that!”

  Vincent and Trey cackle. They love it when I’m struggling.

  I finally give up and grow still, surprised by how quiet Emmett is beneath me. His hands move up my arms, making their way to either side of my head as he strokes my hair.

  “Shhhh,” he hisses into my ear like a snake, smoothing down both sides of my face in some twisted form of comfort.

  I remain perfectly still, my pounding heart beating through both of us as I’m forcefully latched in his lap. Like a scared rabbit who finally gives up and goes limp in the arms of its captor.

  The car drives off into the night, me bouncing around in Emmett’s lap with every bump of the road. I can feel the stiffness in his pants against my thighs as he keeps his mouth close to my ears so that I can hear every deep, hot breath that burns against my skin.

  I stay focused on trying to time how long we’ve been driving. I know it’s an impossible task, but maybe even if I don’t know where our final destination is, I can have some idea of how far it is from the theater in any direction. It’s the only thing I know to do. But even that seems futile as Emmett’s hands move over my skin in the dark.

  “Hey man, let us have a go at her,” Vincent blurts suddenly, sending chills down my spine. “We can pull over somewhere on the way.”

  Well, at least I know they would need to pull over on the way, meaning that’s not the end goal when we get to wherever we’re going. But I should know better anyway. The stakes are higher now as things are coming to a head with my father. Their fucked up sexual assault games are on the back burner now. Just a fun side perk for them as they hold me captive.

  “Drive,” Emmett demands coldly, stern enough to scare me. I can only hope it’s as effective on his friends.

  “Maybe we should just tell Vivian then,” Trey taunts, staring us down threateningly in the rearview.

  “She knows what I have to do,” Emmett answers despondently. The threat doesn’t stop his hands from creeping across me. He keeps my hands sandwiched at his sides, in between his chest and arms. Leaving me helpless as he runs his palms across my knees and up my thighs. He lingers too long at the tops of them, in between my legs.

  In the darkness, knowing it would be undetectable to anyone but Emmett, I give in. I cave under his touch, leaning my head back against his chest in submission as he explores my body. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a choice anyway. Or because of all the tension that has been building since the first time we met. Or perhaps it has something to do with knowing I mean enough to him to stir up trouble with his girlfriend. Whatever it is, I decide not to fight it. He says nothing to acknowledge my sudden willingness. We both seem content to steal the time we have.

  The muscles and folds between my legs swell with warm wetness as he clenches my inner thighs. I wish he’d move up higher, forgetting for a moment that we’re not alone. But he moves up to my stomach, working his way under my shirt and sliding up across my abdomen. My hips buckle and my back arches, sending my tense abs further against his hands as his lips graze my neck and ear.

  “Good girl,” he whispers so soft that only I can hear it.

  It almost kills it for me, causing me to recoil slightly. But as his hands move up to my ribs, I melt back into the touch. I’m putty in his hands. Just as his thumbs graze my bra across my hardened nipples, causing me to bite my lip to suppress a moan, his body straightens. He goes tense beneath my body and pulls his hands away. My shirt is swiftly tugged back down over my breasts, feeling cold in comparison to the warmth of his touch.

  “We’re here,” he blurts coldly with a gentle smack to my thigh.

  I am left unfulfilled and reeling. So much that I almost forget to be afraid of what happens next.

  18

  Chapter Eighteen

  I find my way down from whatever crazy plane of existence I was just on with Emmett as the car rolls to a stop, crunching across a driveway. I laugh once he slips the blindfold away.

  They’ve brought me to Jameson Manor. Everyone knows where it is, meaning they never needed to blindfold me at all. It was just a fucking power move. Another scare tactic to mess with my head.

  But if they hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have just been felt up by Emmett. And judging by the dampness between my legs, I enjoyed it much more than I’d like to admit. Which only makes me hate myself. Especially as he yanks my arms behind my back and shoves me toward the door.

  There’s an ornate iron fence lining the property, enclosing a large circular driveway in front of the main manor. A series of statues surround a huge fountain in the center of the drive, and there are several other smaller buildings in the back. Probably guesthouses and other quarters for their staff. I assume one of them is a pool house with the large bean-shaped swimming pool that peaks out from behind the house.

  In the distance I can spot gazebos, a tennis court and putting greens for golf. Sprinklers are sputtering away as they mist the perfect green grass. I can only imagine what expensive cars must rest behind the garage doors. They really have it all.

  The yard is huge and well-kept with big, perfectly trimmed trees. They lead me past brick walls covered in sprawling ivy and manicured hedges up to the thick
white columns and large brick steps leading to the front door.

  The manor towers above us as we approach the entrance, my neck craning to make out the multiple balconies and rooftop patios. I hope to god we aren’t headed for one of those spots once we’re inside. One drop down from any of them and I’d be a dead woman.

  We enter into a foyer with high vaulted ceilings that are covered in ornate gold leaf patterns that match the crown molding. A large chandelier sparkles up above the wide spiral staircase. It’s more classic than I expected, but I guess it makes sense since they are such old money. I imagine the Hendersons’ mansion is more modern.

  I am too taken in at the sight of it to say a single word as they lead me up the stairs and into a bedroom. Each door we pass on the way reveals another spacious room perfectly decorated with giant velvet curtains draped across tall windows. The hallway is lined with expensive-looking paintings and sculptures. I have never been in such a nice house before. Every room I’ve seen so far even has its own fireplace.

  They say nothing as they file me into one of the bedrooms, before promptly leaving and locking me inside.

  “Just wait here,” Emmett calls out from behind the door. “I’ll be back soon enough.”

  “Great,” I grumble sarcastically. I’m still for a moment, in shock from the sheer size and decadence of the house. I quickly begin to look around the room, hoping to get some clue as to exactly where I am.

  I recognize the backpack thrown on the floor in the corner, but I quietly look inside to confirm. The name scribbled across the notebooks and homework assignments tells me I was right. This is Emmett’s backpack, meaning this is probably his room.

  I scan the framed photos scattered across his dresser and nightstand, confirming once again that he’s featured in each one alongside smiling friends and family. I even spot one of him and Malcolm together. They’re younger. Probably close to the same age they were in the photos Malcolm kept in his glovebox. It tugs at my heart.