Hu Money: A Forbidden Bully Romance (The Dirty Money Duet Book 1)

by BL Mute

  “Carmen.” I shake her shoulder lightly as I sit on the bed next to her.

  It takes her a minute to realize I’m there. She stirs before finally turning over to face me. “What the fuck, Lydia?”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “I figured you would be happy to see me.”

  “Maybe if I knew you were coming. But not when you wake me up like some creep.”

  “Look, I took the morning off because I have to tell you something. I have to tell someone.” I try to deflect her shock with something I know will excite her. Carmen has always loved a good gossip session.

  She rubs her eyes, then shifts in her bed, scooting up so her back is against the headboard. “Okay…”

  “You have to promise not to judge me.” I look away as I say the words because I know she won’t, she can’t, but I feel the need to say it so I can use that as an excuse as to why I haven’t told her already.

  She scrunches her face and tips her head. “You know I’m the last person to judge you for anything. But now you have my attention, so spill.”

  I inhale deeply through my nose and push it out through my mouth. “I slept with someone.” I twiddle my thumbs in my lap before I continue. “Actually… two someones.”

  Her sleepy eyes grow, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “What?”

  I just nod, letting her know she heard me right. Which is probably crazy coming from someone like me. I’m basically a prude in every sense of the word. I’ve has sex before Malcolm and Carter and Jake, but I never took it too seriously. It’s never meant as much to me as it does Carmen.

  She sees sex as a way to control the entire male race. She’s convinced her pussy can move mountains, and I don’t blame her because it very well could. With her looks, her take-no-shit attitude, and want for world domination, I’m sure some congressman will in fact make her pussy move the very mountains in her way, just to get in her good graces. Or rather, her pants.

  Sometimes I wish I were more like Carmen. I wish I didn’t care as much, and maybe that’s exactly who I was envisioning after my dad died without even thinking about it. I didn’t want to care anymore, and I didn’t for a while—until I cared too much all over again. For a boy I shouldn’t care about.

  Hell, I shouldn’t even trust Carter, if I’m being honest with myself, but here I am, doing exactly as he said. I’m not sure what it is about him—maybe it’s my mind only seeing the sweet, innocent boy he used to be. The one who would chase me and butterflies—or maybe it’s the fact I have more feelings for him than I’d like to admit, but I feel safe with him. Even if he isn’t so sweet or innocent anymore.

  I feel the only thing to do when he demands something is to give it to him. No questions asked.

  And deep down, I know he won’t hurt me. He’s been hurt enough for the both of us, so he wouldn’t inflict any more pain onto me.

  Or maybe these are all just things I tell myself to justify my utter stupidity.

  “Okay,” I say, severing the thoughts in my mind. “I’m going to say their names and give you a minute to process before I explain.”

  She bites her lip and brings her slender fingers to her chin. “Now you have me scared…”

  I don’t give her any more time to voice concerns or fears. Instead, I just blurt out their names like my mouth has no filter. “Carter McLane,” I start. Her dark eyes grow even larger, if it’s possible, but with my next words, I’m pretty sure I see the breath stop in her throat before it can’t be expelled from her mouth. “Malcolm McLane.”

  Her mouth gapes open like a fish gasping for the safety of the water when it’s onshore. “Lydia. You’re kidding.”

  I shake my head. Ashamed. Completely and utterly ashamed.

  If it were only Carter, I could maybe live with myself and brush it off as nothing, because him being my stepbrother, or tormentor throughout part of middle school and high school, is a hell of a lot better than saying, “Yeah, I slept with an old man. Oh, and did I mention he married my mom? So, I fucked—or rather, am fucking—my stepdad. Cool, huh?”

  She brushes her long dark hair behind her ears and sits up straighter, making sure to eliminate some of the shock off her face. “First, you slept with them, or are sleeping with them?” She almost looks like a concerned mother asking her daughter what exactly the big bad man did to her.

  “Slept? Sleeping? Both? I don’t know,” I admit.

  She sucks in a deep breath, the same way I do when I’m about to do or say something I don’t want to. “Normally, I would congratulate you. Scoring both McLanes… Damn. But your mom.”

  It’s a statement, not a question, because she doesn’t have to ask that question. I know exactly what thoughts are running through her head. I’ve already had them all myself.

  What if my mom finds out?

  Will it hurt her?

  Will she hate me?

  Will she hate herself for not seeing it sooner?

  “I need you to explain. Like, stat. I don’t even care about Carter; I saw that shit coming with magnified glasses. Hell, I think everyone did. But Malcolm?” she squeals.

  I throw my face into my hands and shake my head. “I know. I just—I don’t know.”

  “No, you know. And now I want to know. So, spill, bitch.”

  I do as she asks without question, the same way I do with Carter because I feel the same way about her. Maybe not exactly the same because I don’t want to ride her into oblivion, but the safeness. I feel a warm cocoon of understanding when I’m with her, and it makes me talk. Because I know I don’t have to worry, even if the thoughts still do pop into my head every once in a while.

  After I give her a quick rundown of events with Malcolm, and now Carter, from the past year, she starts with the questions. “That’s why you ran to Pine Hills, isn’t it?”

  I nod and can see her heart break right in front of me.

  “Lydia,” she moans sadly before pulling me into her side. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”

  I don’t tell her the only reason I’m telling her now is because Carter forced me to in order for his help. Instead, I tell her the truth. Or part of the truth anyway. “I was disgusted with myself. I didn’t want anyone to know. But now shit is getting out of hand slowly. Like… I see shit crumbling in front of me, and the weight it’s bearing on my shoulders is a lot. I just needed to let it out, I guess.”

  She nods in understanding. “Does Carter know? You know, about Malcolm?”

  I return her nod.

  “What does he say?” she pries.

  “I just told him last night. He hasn’t really said anything.”

  The truthfulness in my words hit me harder than I expected.

  What if he thinks I’m disgusting now? Or ruined? Or unworthy of him?

  I laugh internally at the thought. Me, unworthy of him? Yeah, right.

  “Well,” she starts talking again, “regardless of all of it, look at the bright side. You’re graduating, you have a stash of cash for whatever you want, and by the time you walk the stage, you can leave Bexley Falls in your rearview mirror for good. It’s not ideal, I’m sure, but it’s better than wasting away in this shitty, stuck-up town.”

  I chuckle because she’s right. I hadn’t thought about it that way. “True. I just need to get myself out of this mess first and hope like hell I don’t hurt anyone in the process.”

  “I’ll help if I can,” she comments, standing from her bed and opening her dark curtains.

  “Thanks. I may take you up on that,” I mumble, knowing I will need her help. I just won’t tell her that yet. “I have to go finish my shift before I piss someone off. We’ll hang out again soon. Okay?”

  She stretches, letting the silk camisole rise and expose her tanned midsection. “Okay. And I’m serious. I’m here.”

  I give her a half smile and a nod before exiting her room and going back downstairs. I slip outside before William can see me, then order an Uber and wait.

  When I’m droppe
d off at the country club, I go straight inside and to the kitchen, where I’m hoping to find Carter. I want to tell him I told Carmen and she’s on board to help even though I never exactly explained we would need her help. But to my dismay, he’s nowhere to be seen.

  I stop a waiter walking by. “Hey, have you seen Carter?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah. He came in for a few minutes but ended up leaving early. He didn’t say why.”

  I nod, feeling defeated. “Thanks.”

  All I’ve wanted is to talk to him and get the lowdown on this master plan he has. It’s the only thing I’m looking forward to at this point—being free of Mac and life going back to normal—but it seems he dodges me every chance he gets.

  At first, I assumed it was because of Mac. I mean, the warning he gave me about staying away from Carter couldn’t have been one-sided. He probably told him the same thing, but Mac isn’t here. There is no reason to run and hide from my presence.

  Unless… The thoughts hit me before I even have a chance to fight them away. Unless he hates me and thinks I’m disgusting because I’m literally fucking his dad.

  I groan and throw my head back with self-pity. I know I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me—he’s a nobody—but for some reason, that nobody is wiggling their way into my mind every chance it gets. He’s starting to consume me in every way, and I don’t necessarily hate it. I kind of like it. At least when the thoughts are of dirty words and rough sex and not my made-up reasons as to why he’s always so absent.

  “You’re Henry’s daughter, right?” the waiter asks, pulling me from the pits of my mind.

  His question catches me off guard. Everyone here knows who I am, but then again, I’ve never seen this guy before. “Yes?”

  He nods with a smile that could light up a room. “I didn’t get to meet him, but my cousin—Eric—he’s worked here for years and has told me stories. He seemed like a really cool dude.”

  I smile and push back tears. “He was.” I walk away before they have the chance to fall and hurry back outside.

  I thought I had gotten to the point in my grieving where it wouldn’t hurt when my dad was brought up, but I guess I was wrong. I don’t think that pain will ever fully go away.

  Maybe with everything else going on, my emotions are just heightened, and all it took to send me over the edge was someone mentioning his name and memories flipping through my mind.

  I plop down on the concrete steps in front of the entrance and scoot as far to the left as I can before I really let myself sob. Between blurry, tear-filled eyes, I order an Uber and wait some more.

  If my dad were here, he would know what to do. He would know how to get me out of this mess I’ve created. Fuck, I wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place. Suddenly, all my sadness turns to anger. I thought I was past this stage too, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

  I’m just a fucking kid. A kid with no dad, in an ugly world that I’ve made even uglier with my actions. If he never would have died, I could have salvaged what little patch of beauty still flourished in our corner of Bexley Falls. I wouldn’t have run from being the “good girl” he always loved me for being. I never would have slept with his business partner, and my mom would have never married said business partner.

  All of this started because he had to go and die.

  Because he had to leave me.

  Fuck… why does this hurt so bad?

  I wipe mascara tears from my eyes as my Uber pulls up and pull the mask I seem to wear so well back in place. The one where I seem happyish. The one where I don’t give a fuck. The one where I’m a badass and say fuck everything.

  All I want is answers and solutions.

  And I’m going to get them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  LYDIA

  When my Uber drops me off, I storm inside, letting the big wooden door slam behind me. “Carter!” I scream, and it echoes off the marble floors in the foyer.

  I’d like to think I’m pretty self-aware, so I know all of the shit in my mind is nothing more than me trying to drag myself down, but I don’t care. I still need to ask the questions that have been eating at me. I still need to hear it from him.

  Carter appears at the top of the stairs and leans his elbows on the banister. “Why are you yelling?” he asks, confused as fuck as to why I seem so upset.

  I march up the stairs. One by one, I slam my feet into them, ignoring the fiery hot pain shooting up my calves as I do. “Do you think I’m disgusting?”

  I was going to ask about the plan, see what my next step needs to be, but it seems my mouth and brain aren’t on the same page.

  He tips his head with a smirk, and it makes the stuff in my head seem more real and not at all me trying to self-sabotage. “What?”

  “Answer the question.” I can feel my lip start to tremble.

  All my time with Carter, and I haven’t felt this before. I’ve always liked him—when he wasn’t being an ass—but this is different. I’m not sure what changed and when, but I don’t want him to think of me as dirty. I don’t want him to hate me as much as I used to tell myself I didn’t care or I hated him too.

  The smirk on his lips falls as he studies my face more intently. “Have you been crying?” He reaches out with his thick, calloused fingers and brushes my hair to the side, getting a better view of the mascara streaks that stain my cheeks.

  “Answer me, Carter.”

  He drops his hand, and the softness of his eyes turns hard again. “Did someone tell you that?”

  No one but myself, I think.

  I shake my head and step around him. Him avoiding my question can only mean one thing and one thing only. He does. I rush to my room and close the door behind me before flipping the lock.

  I try to will the aching in my chest away, but it doesn’t work. And that just pisses me off even more. How could I go from not giving a shit to caring about the opinion of someone I claim to hate? That doesn’t even make sense.

  I snatch the pack of cigarettes and lighter I keep in my nightstand, then move to the window. With one thrust, I have it open and perch myself on its pane before lighting my smoke. With every inhale, I hold it a little longer before I release and relax the slightest bit as it helps melt my pain and stress away. Cigarette after cigarette gets lit, smoked, then thrown out the window. And with each new stick I light, my confidence grows.

  Fuck Carter, and fuck what he thinks of me. If he wants to use me, fine. But I’ll use him too. From now on, all I care about is untangling whatever fucking knots I seemed to create with Mac. That’s it.

  I keep telling myself that over and over, but when I step into my bathroom and see him standing over his sink, the entire pep talk I gave myself flies out the window with the lingering puffs of smoke from my cigarette.

  The anger and sadness I felt before slams back into me as his brown eyes stare at me. It’s a disgusting mixture that makes my stomach turn, but I can’t push it away.

  “Why haven’t you said anything? Why have you been acting like last night never even happened? You said we would talk and forced me to tell Carmen, but by the time I made it back to the club, you were gone.”

  “I had to leave.”

  “Why? And why won’t you answer my questions?” I sound far more pitiful than I like.

  “I couldn’t be in a place where he’s around every corner.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Mac. Every inch of that club is covered by him. The flooring? He picked that out. Along with the drapes and furniture. He’s everywhere, and I didn’t want to be there.”

  I tip my head. “Then why come here? He lives here, for fuck’s sake.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Yeah, but so do you.”

  I’m not really sure what he means by that, but I don’t have to wonder long.

  “I’d rather deal with being reminded of him here because I know at least you’ll be here. You’ll help distract me from all of the thoughts of him.”


  “Carter—” I try. I want to tell him how equally sweet and weird that sounds, but he cuts me off.

  “At least that’s what I thought. Now, all I can see is his hands on you.” His face scrunches up in disgust as he looks away from me. “And his lips. His cock pumping into you. I can’t fucking escape the pictures I’ve created in my head, and it’s driving me crazy.”

  The weight of his words falls over me, making me want to sink to my knees and apologize. Is this him admitting the budding feelings I have are mutual? “I shouldn’t have told you,” I mumble.

  His eyes snap back to me. “Why? So, you could still fuck us both without a worry in the world?”

  His sweet sentiment from earlier is quickly erased now that the asshole has emerged. “Without a care in the world? Is that really what you think. I didn’t sleep with your dad because of anything other than the fact I knew I could blackmail him.”

  He nods with a huff. “Yeah, but you kept going back because you liked it, right?”

  I don’t have to answer the question because we both know the answer. It may not be true now, but it was before. I did like what Mac could give me. I liked the escape and high I got off it, but that changed. And it changed when I had Carter.

  “Tell me, Bunny. Do you think about me when he fucks you?” He steps closer, invading my personal space, and runs his nose the length of my jaw. “Do you wish it was me?”

  I take in a shaky breath, pissed at how my knees squeeze together and the jolt that shoots to my pussy. This shouldn’t turn me on. It’s wrong.

  But it seems all the wrong things get to me lately.

  “You’re soaked, aren’t you?” he asks, breaking the beat of silence between us.

  “Fuck you,” I whisper.

  And that’s all it takes. He leans further down and reaches behind me, gripping each of my ass cheeks in his hands before hoisting me up. My legs go around his waist, and my hands find his hair, pulling his head back so my lips can capture his.