Old Money Roulette: Complete Trilogy

by Natalie Bennett

  QUEEN

  KING

  ACE

  Old Money Roulette Box Set

  INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  NATALIE BENNETT

  Copyright

  Old Money Box Set by Natalie Bennett

  © 2019 by Natalie Bennett. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Covers By Combs

  Editing by: Pinpoint Editing

  Author’s Note

  This Trilogy contains various dark themes some readers may find objective. The lifestyle of these rich corrupted characters is decadent and glamorous, how they obtain that lifestyle is brutal and immoral. Please know your limitations.

  -Happy Reading 

  Table Of Contents

  Copyright

  Authors Note

  Queen Of Diamonds

  King Of Hearts

  Ace Of Spades

  Old Money Spin-Off

  Other Books

  Links

  Table of Contents

  Playlist

  Queen Of Diamonds

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Part two

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Playlist

  NF-How Could You Leave Us

  Kygo-Fragile

  Hey Violet-Guys My Age

  Portugal-Rich Friends

  G-Eazy-Mama Always Told Me

  Lana Del Rey-White Mustang

  Lana Del Rey-Florida Kilos

  Lana Del Rey-Old Money

  Aquilo-Sorry

  Banks-Brain

  Banks-Drowning

  Lorde-Bravado

  Drake-Over My Dead Body

  Eminem-River

  Jhene Aiko-To Love & Die

  The Neighborhood-Daddy Issues

  The Neighborhood-Scary Love

  Slaves-The Pact

  Cruel Youth-Diamond Days

  Queen Of Diamonds

  The power of youth is on my mind.

  Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time.

  –LANA DEL REY–

  One week prior

  They say your body can pick up on bad vibrations. If your gut tells you something isn’t right about a person or situation, trust it.

  The chills travelling down my spine in spite of the sweltering humidity were the first indication that something was amiss.

  As I hurried towards the bungalow with shabby shingles and warped wooden stairs my apprehension heightened.

  At ten past four in the morning, no one should have been up, yet every light in the house appeared to be on. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as the feeling of being watched swept over me.

  I stopped just a few feet away from my destination and slowly glanced around.

  I relaxed slightly when I saw the street was empty save for the stray alley cats taking refuge in the boarded up mini-mart on the corner. A small laugh burst from my mouth. I knew walking home would make me paranoid––this neighborhood always did. But my car had a flat tire and I didn’t have a spare so walking was my only option.

  Pushing through the rusted gate, I continued up the pathway, trying to spot anything else out of the ordinary.

  Sliding my key into the singular lock on the front door, I found it wasn’t locked at all, but there was something wedged in place that prevented me from opening it.

  After knocking twice and not getting a response, I decided to try the back door that led into the kitchen.

  It was wide open.

  Gooseflesh traveled up my arms and dread bloomed in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat, taking in the splintered wood on the doorframe. There wasn’t any sound coming from inside.

  It was quiet; much too quiet, considering.

  I cautiously approached, digging my cell-phone from my shoulder bag. I knew without a doubt that something was wrong but I also knew better than to call the police.

  It had been drilled into me from a very young age: never involve local law enforcement if things were to go bad.

  I paused just inside the kitchen doorway and took in the disrepair. The fridge was pulled out from its nook, its contents strewn across the floor, joined by most of the dishes in pieces, leaving the cabinets barren.

  It took me less than two minutes to walk through the entire house and make it down the hall to my aunt’s bedroom. All the furniture in the living room had been flipped over.

  Couch cushions were gutted savagely, and the television screen was smashed in. The frame of the sofa was the culprit for blocking my entry into the house.

  Dank water from the broken fish tank soaked the Berber carpet and permeated the air. The tiny goldfish lay lifeless, their underbellies turning milk white. My aunt’s bedroom door was partially open and I didn’t hesitate shoving it the rest of the way in, preparing myself for the worst.

  The room smelled strongly of sweat, sex, and cigarettes. The blood sprayed across the headboard had my stomach keeling. The bullet holes in the back of her head had my heart capsizing in its cavity. Her frilly slip was in tatters, barely hanging on her body.

  Her underwear was down around her ankles and dark bruises marred every inch of her exposed flesh. From where I stood, it looked like the entire left side of her face had been beaten in. I backed up, my spine bouncing off the wall in my haste to get out of the room. I stumbled, swallowing down the acidic bile forcing its way up my throat.

  “This can’t be happening.” I choked on a sob and frantically scrolled through my contact list until I found the name of the person I’d fervently prayed I would never have to call.

  It was on the second ring that I realized I had no idea where my sister was.

  Chapter One

  Present

  Funerals aren’t for the dead. They’re for the living.

  Think about it. Why would the dead care what color their casket is or how many people showed up to see them off?

  They wouldn’t––because they’re dead. They can’t care about anything.

  Funerals were merely social gatherings, just like church was a place to be morally judged and condemned. The people around me were unknowingly proving my point.

  I was positive the woman three rows back––the one in a tight red dress––thought she was going to a nightclub instead of a cemetery. People were whispering amongst themselves as the reverend spoke. A few were even playing on their phones.

  My closest friends––my only friends––sat in the row behind me–Italian heiress Melody Belluci, and the brilliant hacker/software genius Peyton Ross. They were only people in the entire cemetery who knew what was happening.

  I kept my gaze trained straight ahead on the two identical cream caskets sitting side by side. One contained someone irreplaceable and dear to my heart.

  The other was a painful illusion, nothing but an empty vessel because there
was no body to go inside.

  The ache in my chest had me physically and mentally worn down, but I kept it together. Being strong was the last thing I wanted to do––which made it my only option, if not for myself, then for my family.

  Though I was beginning to wonder what the point was.

  The blatant disrespect openly displayed was a harsh reminder that the Rias family wasn’t the powerhouse it once was. My parents’ would be disgusted themselves if they were alive to see this.

  This wasn’t what my father worked his ass off to achieve. This wasn’t what he and my mother died for.

  It didn’t take long for the ordeal to be over. I’d say it only lasted twenty-minutes tops, but I couldn’t be entirely sure because I’d zoned out thinking of all the things I still had to do.

  There were no passionate speeches, lying of roses, or last-minute sobs of despair it was just over and done with.

  My aunt was forgotten before the first mound of dirt hit the lid of her casket. The dead stayed dead ten feet under, and the world continued to turn without sparing them a moment’s solace.

  It was proof enough that the statement every life matters––held no bearing to the truth. All lives are meaningless.

  I uncrossed one sticky leg from the other and swiftly stood up, smoothing down my black asymmetrical dress. It was so hot there was sweat gathering between my breasts.

  My uncle, Samuel, stood with me, leaning down to ask, “How are you holding up?”

  I hated that question. Were people ever really expected to answer only good, fine, or okay? Giving him a tight smile to appease the nosey masses, I responded quietly–“Peachy.”

  He picked up on my sarcasm with a hint of irritation written on his face. I didn’t care.

  Molly may not have been my aunt by blood, but she was still family. We butted heads constantly, but she didn’t deserve the cruel death bestowed upon her. And my sister should have been here beside me instead of god knows where.

  Her little Honda Civic was found just outside of town, totaled––a mass of twisted metal at the bottom of a deep ravine. There was no sign of her anywhere.

  The whole situation boiled my blood. It took everything inside me not to scream until I was hallow. This killed a part of me I wasn’t even aware I was at risk of losing.

  I wanted to lash out at everyone around me. It was my sister who was the sweet and loving one, which shocked the hell out of people.

  I got my mama’s wicked tongue, my papa’s volatile temper, and looked as sweet as an angel. Appearances were always deceiving.

  These people made me want to embark on a psychopathic rampage. It was the fucked up clandestine world that they lived in that continued to take everyone I loved away from me.

  Up until this point, I’d been holding onto the naïve belief that the world still had kindness left in it. What a way for the universe to prove me wrong.

  I bit down on the inside of my lip until I tasted blood. My eyes were burning to the point of aching, but I refused to let any tears fall.

  “Come, my dear, it’s almost over.” My grandmother’s gentle voice broke me out of my reverie. She held her arm out and I gently took hold of it, letting her guide me back towards the fleet of waiting luxury vehicles.

  As we walked away, a small group of men standing beneath a cherry tree caught my attention.

  One, in particular, stood out from the rest. I would forever remember this day when our eyes first met. They held for a full minute. It was the briefest of moments, but it represented the beginning of everything. I knew right then he was going to set my soul on fire and flip my already unsteady world on its ass.

  I had his undivided attention, and he had me curious. I know, curiosity killed the cat, but people forgot that satisfaction was a master of necromancy.

  My grandmother was wrong.

  This wasn’t almost over.

  It hadn’t even begun.

  Chapter Two

  I was grateful I’d remembered my sunglasses. The Bulgari lens obscured my eyes and hid the angry flames burning within them. Those making their rounds and offering up meaningless condolences were none the wiser about my current state of mind.

  Sandwiched between my uncle and my grandmother with my two friends nearby, I plastered on a well practiced face of neutrality.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  No, you’re not, I couldn’t help but think every time those same words were regurgitated by another stranger giving me a phony smile. The people in the room had no idea who my aunt even was, and less than half actually gave a damn about my sister.

  They were here to be seen and to see me, like I was some freak-show.

  I could see the questions in everyone’s eyes and the theories being formed about my abrupt arrival and sudden reappearance back into their elite society.

  Everyone was mingling, laughing, and conversing as if we were all at an annual get together instead of a wake.

  “I’ll be right back.” I gently touched my grandmother’s arm and gave her a small smile excusing myself. Judgmental stares tracked my every move across the room.

  “She looks just like her.”

  “I thought she was dead.”

  “Where do you think she’s been?”

  Ignoring the whispered speculations I made my way towards the ladies room located off the back hall. I pushed the door open and walked in to see a trio of women in black dresses bent over the basin.

  My mouth puckered in disbelief. I couldn’t stop the sound of disgust leaving my throat when one of the blondes looked directly at me and smiled.

  “Are you really this trashy?” My voice echoed in the confined space. I’m sure people in the main room heard but honestly, I didn’t give a shit. I’d officially just reached my quota of giving a fuck for the day.

  The blonde was now looking at me like I was the one doing something wrong. I shook my head and promptly exited before I acted on the thought of slamming her face into the goddamn mirror.

  For them to have the audacity to do that bullshit here of all places was just the cherry on top of a shitty day.

  I couldn’t care less that she wanted to get high. That was her own screwed up perogative. But there was a time and a place and this was neither of the above.

  She didn’t even try to hide the powder on the rim of her nostril.

  Suddenly in desperate need of some air, I took a hard left, changing course away from the main room and heading towards the patio. I knew I needed to keep my emotions guarded.

  You couldn’t show anyone your weakness. Once they knew it they would use it to tear you down, but there was no way in hell I was going to force myself to reciprocate a smile and play nice with a group of bitches who more than likely helped my sister destroy herself.

  The hot summer sun wasted no time in reacquainting me with its intense rays. Fortunately, there was a gentle breeze now blowing to offset the smarmy heat. I approached a stone banister and leaned my upper half over it with a sigh.

  Sometimes, I felt like this was all a dream, a corporal nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. How could it be real? It was hard to believe it had already been a week.

  The coroner on the family payroll told us my aunt was sexually assaulted, beaten, and then shot in the head twice post-mortem.

  It wasn’t the bullets that killed her; it was the violence of the assault.

  She died from internal bleeding and hemorrhaging in her brain. There were two separate traces of semen found inside her.

  I kept asking myself what kind of vile human-being could do that to another. What could she possibly have done to deserve it?

  The answer was rhetorical; no one should ever have to go through what she did. To die in such a slow, horrific way, feeling every ounce of inflicted pain and knowing no one was coming to save you.

  Even worse, I knew she would have begged. My aunt would have pleaded for her life and in the end, was given no amount of mercy. It was a crushing feeling that sunk down in my chest and
split me wide open. Molly was one of the kindest people. She’d gladly taken me and my sister Eva into her home and the payment she received for it was the loss of her life.

  Our father had sent us away for protection four months after our mother was killed. We’d just turned twelve. It was supposed to be temporary, but he was murdered just two years later.

  Surely the incidents couldn’t have been related? Eleven years was a long time to hold a grudge, which is how I knew in my gut that my aunt was dead because of something Eva had done. And since she was nowhere to be found I was left with no other option than calling our Uncle Samuel.

  He came immediately, taking care of everything and bringing me back to the most lucrative area near the island of Vice City, Remmington Hill Estates. Home sweet home.

  I’d gotten off work and received a golden ticket straight to hell. Pursing my lips, I looked down and watched the colorful koi swimming around in their manmade pond. If only life were as simple as flitting around in circles with nothing to worry about but gubbing my fat cheeks in anticipation of my next meal.

  “Elena.” A deep baritone voice spoke from directly behind me, sending chills straight down my spine.

  Jolting into a standing position, I pivoted on my thin four-inch heels and then side-stepped so I could get a good look at the man. It took me less than a second to place his face.

  He was taller than I initially thought. My heels boosted my five-three height to a good five-eight-ish, and he still easily towered above me. I drank in his black on black suit sans tie, golden luminescent skin, and high cheekbones.

  He had a masculine jawline adorned with neatly trimmed stubble. His head full of envious, thick, jet-black hair was manipulated in a way that made it look sleek yet graceful. Blinking a glare away, I looked into a pair of strikingly bold whiskey-colored eyes surrounded by a hazel ring–the oddest set of hues I’d ever seen.

  Handsome, beautiful, sexy–those words were too simplistic and dull to describe a man like him.

  He was spellbindingly exotic.