Reckless Rules: The Elites Of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy

by Hart, Rebel

  My heart stings with an afterthought. I want to torture him the way he’s tortured me. And that desire rises quickly above everything else. “You’ll never taste me again,” I growl sternly, looking straight at him in pure coldness. His brows raise to my quivering voice. “You’ll never have any part of me again.”

  He raises a hand, and I don’t know if he’ll hit me or force me into his kiss anyway. But instead his forehead drops to the wall above my shoulder. Like he’s completely broken.

  “Never say never, Ophelia,” he whispers into my neck before pulling away. “There’s too much between us for you just to walk away from.”

  “Is there?” I question defiantly, steadying my voice. “There’s nothing between us. You’ve tormented me, Emmett. Your family and friends did too, and you’re no better than them. I see that now. I don’t care what anyone else says. I’ve looked into your eyes and have seen nothing. The same cold, empty, blank stare of your father.”

  “That’s not true,” he snivels, shaking his head to block out my words. “You know it’s not true. Everything I’ve done up until now…none of that was the real me. Just the small moments we shared when we both gave in…when everything else fell away. That’s all you really know of me. And I can show you so much more.”

  His words instantly slice through my resolve, pulling me in as his lips brush my cheek. I want so badly to make him hurt, and I can’t seem to convince myself that what he’s feeling now is hurt enough. It can’t be if he’s still insisting he’s entitled to me somehow. A truly sorry man would just walk away and let me be, just like my father did.

  His lips melt to mine as I surrender one last time. Everything inside of me screaming to push him away, but I’m paralyzed. Finally I hear sirens wailing outside, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long. “We have to go soon, Emmett,” I remind him, thankful for the escape as our lips part. “Do you know what we’re supposed to say?”

  “I want to talk to you after,” he insists again.

  “Emmett, no!” I beg against his persistence. “Please…why can’t you just let me go…”

  “I don’t know,” he rasps. “But I can’t. Not like this.”

  I see the red and blue flashing lights reflecting through the front windows and know we’re out of time. My fingers pull to the wet circles under my eyes, and I try to smooth back my hair. It’s no use. I’m a mess. We both are.

  “I’ll explain everything,” he maintains, pulling back to straighten his shirt and put on a composed face. “You’ll see. You have to listen to me.”

  Without another word, he walks confidently out into the foyer. I want to remind him he’d do well not to act so put together this time. He did just see his father die. A fact that will make the police suspicious if he’s not distraught enough, even if it’s fake. But I quickly remember he doesn’t have to worry about things like that. Not really. Whatever his own personal sway and power doesn’t take care of, my father’s influence will.

  I am left alone in shock once again. Still amazed that I’m so intertwined with this world of powerful and ruthless men. It’s too much to take in. All I can do for now is prepare myself to give a statement, putting myself that much closer to freedom at last. It will all be over soon.

  24

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I follow behind Emmett to face the sirens wailing outside of the manor. Bernadette is still hunkered over his body, crying in mourning. It’s a relief to see her feel something, even if Emmett would argue it’s misplaced. The room goes dark as the sun’s rays disappear from the windows behind cloud cover.

  The police don’t waste any time explaining they’ll need to take us into the station to give our statements. I don’t feel too nervous about it, knowing our story will be backed up with whatever contact my father has in their department. Plus, I have Emmett on my side for this one. They assure us it won’t take long.

  The police escort us from the manor as the sun starts to go down. On our way to the station, a thick fog falls over everything and I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance.

  The wind howls around us as we approach the front of the building. Buzzing doors and jingling keys echo out through the sparse waiting room of the station as we are both led through long winding back halls of officers speaking to each other in hushed tones, tucked away into different corners.

  We are, of course, separated. I’m taken into an interview room that is gray and plain with one small table scattered with pens and notepads. I note the handcuff rings implanted in the surface, wringing my wrists that still ache from my own time in cuffs.

  My stomach is uneasy as I rub my arms, nervously giving my statement to the police. I stick to the story made up about ditching school and coming back to this house to hook up. That’s where we claimed to have found his body dead on the ground. Anyone can see plain as day that he was shot directly in the forehead from the direction of the front door, but my father will make good on his promise. He has contacts who will still by some miracle get this written off as a suicide.

  Even though I don’t give two shits about whether it’s coined as suicide or murder, I must admit there is something satisfying about my own father having his sway over this town. Maybe for his sake some of that will be restored with Thomas Jameson out of the way. But I still have every intention of staying as far away from him as possible.

  “So, you and Emmett Jameson returned to his residence around four o’clock in the afternoon. Is that right?” The officer asks me again after he’s collected my statement and asked me to repeat it.

  “That’s right,” I say as confidently as possible.

  The officer scribbles a few more notes, scratching his head, and then whispers a few things to his partner. “Thank you, Miss Lopez,” he states, dropping his pen to the pad of paper. “We won’t be too much longer here.”

  I try to hide a sigh of relief that they’re buying everything. Either that or they’ve already been bribed and aren’t even going to bother with a real interrogation. I’ve been warned countless times that the cops around here can’t be trusted.

  “You haven’t been attending Weis-Jameson Preparatory Academy long, have you, Miss Lopez?” he stands to pace the room, changing his tone.

  “Just started this semester,” I reply glumly, feeling weighed down by everything that’s happened in such a short amount of time. “I’m attending on a track scholarship.”

  He nods, biting at his lip. “And you live with your mom and dad?”

  “My mom and step-dad, Brendan. Why?” I am starting to grow nervous with how personal the questions are becoming. What does any of that have to do with Thomas Jameson’s supposed suicide?

  “What about your biological father...” he proposes timidly. “Do you know him?”

  “No.” I blurt too curtly, causing his brow to furrow suspiciously.

  The room is suddenly cold. My heart starts to race. No one told me I should be prepared for questions about Theo. I don’t know whether to deny everything, or if they already know he’s been poking around in the Elite’s business recently. What if I incriminate myself by lying about something they already know?

  “You don’t know him at all?” he asks again, his tone peaked.

  “No, not at all,” I confirm nervously. As long as he keeps phrasing it that way, I’m fine. Because I can honestly say I don’t know my father. But if he gets any more specific…I’m going to freeze up.

  “You seem nervous,” he observes, towering above me with his hands rested on the table. “Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about your father?”

  “I just don’t know him. Like I said.” I bite my lip and stare to my hands, falling into a snowball effect. The more I know I look and sound nervous, the more nervous I get.

  He concedes with huff of breath, taking a seat once again. “Miss Lopez, I don’t want to be the one to have to tell you some of these things,” he continues gently, “or maybe you already know some of them and just don’t want to say… That’s fine
too. I understand. But…your father is a pretty dangerous man.”

  “How so?” I try to plea ignorantly, the image of him shooting Thomas fresh on my mind. But that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about right now.

  “He’s been investigated by the FBI for quite a few hefty crimes,” his fingers clasp and open as he speaks. “Insider trading. Money laundering. Extortion. Blackmail. The list goes on and on.”

  “Oh, I had no idea,” I mutter truthfully. I thought my father’s only crime was his relentless pursuit of the Elites, and whatever gambling trouble he had from before. I guess I should have figured there was more to it than that.

  But as the two officers stare me down, the weight of all the warnings I’ve been given about the local police looming right above them, I wonder if I can trust anything they’re saying. My father just took out the central figure of the Jameson Automobile Company…the town’s livelihood. Leaving everything in the hands of Emmett…a teenage boy.

  If they have any inkling at all that he’s responsible for Thomas’s death, they might be eager to take him down. I know my father has contacts in the police, but I’m clueless as to how far his reach extends.

  “Do you know where your father is right now?” they ask bluntly.

  “I have no idea,” I reply, once again grateful that I am telling the truth.

  “I understand,” he says again, only this time he seems to know there is more that I’m not saying. “Listen, you’ve had a hard day, I’m sure. We don’t want to keep you any longer. But could you do us a favor and let us know if your father tries to contact you?”

  “Why?” I protest, not wanting to commit to that position. “You said he was investigated for those crimes. But that doesn’t mean he’s guilty, right? Is he wanted for arrest or anything?”

  “Nothing quite like that,” he answers with a cocky grin. “We just want to let you know…if he pops up again…you can come to us. It might be in your best interest to keep us informed of any communication. To protect yourself.”

  “So…we’re done here?” I ask, already posed to exit. I feel like I’m lost in a minefield. One wrong word and the whole thing will blow up in my face. This was supposed to be a simple statement. Not an interrogation about my father, and I have no idea who to trust.

  “For now,” he leans back smugly, pressing a button that sparks a buzz and shoots my escape door open.

  “Thanks,” I huff as I bolt for the door. I start marching through the winding halls back out into the lobby. I need to be outside and free. My heart is still pounding in my chest, and I desperately need to run far away from here.

  I walk down the sidewalk away from the police station, trying to add everything up in my head. The police can’t be trusted. I don’t know who is on my father’s side and who isn’t. I don’t know who is playing for the old gang of Elites and who is rooting for whatever is on the horizon for Jameson Automobiles. I definitely don’t know where Emmett stands in all of this.

  My walk turns into a sprint the moment I’m back in a residential area. I decide to run home. I need it. I don’t even care that it’s starting to rain.

  I haven’t been running for long when I hear footsteps plodding up from behind. I glance over my shoulder to see Emmett racing behind me.

  “Ophelia!” he calls out breathlessly. “Can I talk to you? Please!?”

  I don’t answer. He is the last person I want to talk to. But with him following behind, I don’t want to go home. I don’t ever want him in my house again. So instead I keep running.

  He keeps stride with me, holding back by just a few feet. His stalking presence makes me feel like I am being held against my will, hitting the nerves of trauma from everything I experienced when I was being held hostage. All that his father did to me.

  Every sudden movement startles me, my brain jumping back to the abuse I endured at the hands of the Elites, Emmett and his father. It just makes me run harder as the rain pours down around us.

  We run like that for miles before finally stopping in a parking lot. I buckle over, resting my palms to my knees as I catch my breath.

  I notice clumps of feathers scattered across the ground nearby, sticking to what remains of a dead bird. I have to laugh to myself, thinking it’s a fitting representation of my life right now. Pieces of me still sticking around but maimed beyond recognition. All I can do now is try to reassemble the pieces, and I can’t do that with Emmett around.

  “Ophelia, please,” he pleads between gasps for breath. “Can’t you see now? I’m one of the good guys. I’m on your side.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me!?” I fire back with an angry laugh. “Is that why you beat me? Threatened me? Humiliated me? What was your excuse for all of that!? That was long before you supposedly started working with my father.”

  “I had to,” he defends softly, his eyes glinting with regret. “I had no choice. As far as I could see, my father was going to get away with everything and be fine. I couldn’t go against him or the other Elites.”

  “And you and Vivian?” I shoot back, still unconvinced of a single word and rapidly piling on more offenses in my memory. “What was all that about?”

  “At first I didn’t know any better,” he defends adamantly. “I mean, it’d make sense for Vivian and me to be together. It’s practically an arranged marriage with the way our families are. But then I met you…”

  “You met me, and you continued seeing her…flaunting it in my face,” I argue, still somewhat in disbelief that I’m even worried about his relationship status with everything else he’s done.

  “Vivian knew I had a thing for you,” he explained, flailing his arms in the air. “If I had broken up with her she would have told everyone it was because of you. I would have been blacklisted. If my own father didn’t kill me for thinking I was in cahoots with you and your father, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to help your dad. We’d probably both be dead right now.”

  “I’ll never be able to forget the ways you’ve treated me,” I continue, unmoved. Shaking my head at the memories flashing through my mind. “Then you sided with my father to get what you wanted. For all I know, you’re still working for him. It’s unforgivable.”

  “I had to, Ophelia,” he continues pleading. “If you just give it some time…I think you’ll understand that I had to. I had no choice.”

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe small parts of his behavior will seem better once I’ve had some time to think. But there’s too much of it staring me right in the face. The way he roughed me up with the other Elites. Sexually humiliated me. Acted like Vivian’s little puppet and did nothing to stop my torture.

  “Please let me try and make it up to you,” he asks softly with a painful sincerity.

  “What will you do now that your friends’ families will fall and yours won’t?” I ask bitterly, figuring he must think he’s hot shit right now. The Elites have been upgraded to a one man show. The rest of them are going down and he gets to walk away with everything. “I can’t help but think your motivations weren’t as centered on my safety and well-being as you claim. I mean, you ended up with a pretty sweet deal out of all this.”

  He moves closer in slow cautious steps, his eyes trained to me. “Not if you won’t talk to me,” he protests. “I don’t care about the money and all that other shit. The Elites can kiss my ass. I’ve always hated the whole fucked up game. None of it means anything if I don’t get you in the end. Please, Ophelia. You’re mine.”

  I want to scream. I don’t belong to anyone. Especially not him, but I can’t deny the way my heart warms and swells at the thought of it. What he used to always say…his little pet. I’m tempted to give in to it. Curl up right in his arms. Submit and give myself over to him the way I did in his bathroom. It felt so good to stop fighting it for once.

  He can sense my hesitation and takes it as an opportunity to inch even closer, placing his hand to my cheek. My lips part beyond my control and everything in me yearns to feel his lips against mine a
gain. I am so close to giving into him. My eyes close and I want to melt against his body, but I force myself to pull away.

  “I can’t, Emmett,” I whimper as my voice cracks, taking a few steps back and looking off into the distance. “I don’t see how I can ever trust you.”

  Maybe if I just try to forget any of this ever happened, I can move forward. It’s too painful to face straight on.

  It’s not just about Emmett. I don’t know how I can ever trust anyone ever again now that I know the kinds of things my father is capable of. My own father. His greed and maliciousness could be hereditary. Maybe it’s in my blood. Either way, even my own father would kill me to serve his own desires.

  I don’t let myself feel certain of anything anymore. I’ve learned my lesson well enough to know I’m not in control of what can happen. I have to trust my gut now. And I can’t shake the feelings of unease that plague me when I look into Emmett’s eyes, no matter what other feelings I have for him.

  But his moans of pleasure haunt me. The way his face wrinkled in ecstasy. I want to go back to that place with him, where I was able to let go as my body did the talking. Responding to him without hesitation. Surrendering to the sensations of how he felt inside. The touch of his hands. I half consider begging him to take me somewhere so we can have sex again. That made sense to me. But I know when it’s over, it would only confuse me more and leave me worse off than I am now.

  “I know you deserve better than me, Ophelia. You deserve better than your father too,” he insists, speaking to my hesitation.

  “I have better, Emmett,” I remind him bitterly. “I have a whole life outside of this shitstorm you’re wrapped up in. I have a mom and stepdad that love me. I had a promising running career ahead of me, if that hasn’t been ruined by everything that’s happened. I was just fine before you, and I’ll be just fine after you. If you’ll just leave me alone.”