by Mia Luxe
The man’s eye’s narrow. “We deal with exclusive clientele. There are always members of the press that try to sneak their way in. Paparazzi who want the latest scandals. I need to verify you are who you say you are.”
I sigh and fumble with my driver’s licence, handing it over. He gives me the same treatment as my father, checking it three times.
He slides it back, and I pocket it. We drive up higher, and park in front of a huge, stone building. I get out and a valet in a well-fitting suit greets us. For a valet, he’s very muscular.
“Good morning, ma’am. There are no cell phones or devices with cellular capacity allowed here.”
My eyes go wide. “Are you kidding me?”
“Emily, give me your phone.”
I shake my head, and my dad grabs my arm so hard it sends shooting pain up it.
“Dad! You’re hurting me!”
“Just give me your damn phone,” he snarls, and I hand it to him. “You brought this on yourself.”
Tears well up in my eyes.
Days ago, as I’d sat in that hospital bed, I’d thought about calling the police.
They wouldn’t believe me. Whatever drug Mike slipped me, it didn’t show up on the blood test. If I told them he tried to rape me, they’d just assume I was trying to get out of trouble.
My father drives away fast, the tires of his Porsche squealing. He’s eager to make me someone else’s problem, so he can focus on saving his business deal with Mike’s father.
The valet is next to me, but I’m utterly alone. Brisk, mountain air fills my lungs. I’ve never breathed anything so fresh. Despite my fear and trepidation, having my father leave is a weight off my back.
“Right this way. Mr. Strom is waiting for you.”
I follow him, carrying my backpack. The rules of Strom Academy are strict. You can only bring toiletries and underwear. No makeup allowed.
No phones. No laptop. No makeup – and only the clothes on your back. What sort of strange place am I entering?
I bite my lip as I follow the valet up a stone staircase to the top of the building. My feet echo with every step.
The valet opens a wide, wooden door for me, motioning me forward.
I step forward cautiously into a massive office. There’s a huge wooden desk and behind it sits Tanner Strom. Even sitting down behind the imposing desk he’s a brutally big man. He slowly lowers his papers, fixing his intense eyes on me.
He looks the same as he did five years ago, when I last saw him at a family dinner. His jaw opens and closes, but he doesn’t say anything for a whole second, just watching me.
“Emily? It’s you. I wish I wasn’t seeing you in these circumstances.”
I gulp as the door closes behind me, and I step back when he rises to his full height. Tanner Strom is a giant among men. I was always used to seeing him in athletic clothes when he came to dinners at my family table. Now he’s wearing a suit with a white dress shirt that barely contains his muscular body. His suit and dress shirt can’t hide his rock-hard muscles, and I have to admit he looks damn good dressed up.
The worst thing is that I know he’s got a black ink tattoo of a bone frog down his right bicep. Despite his respectable appearance, the bad-boy tattoo always made me shiver when I thought about it growing up.
Tanner Strom was the object of my teenage lust, and all my feelings rush back in confusion as he stands before me.
4
Tanner Strom
This was a huge mistake.
I stand as Emily enters, and do a double-take.
I was expecting a five-years-older version of the quiet bookworm.
Instead, I’m struck by her.
She grew up, and she got curves. She’s eighteen-years of off-limit, gorgeous thickness that I crave.
Get it together, Tanner. She’s half your age – and your friend’s daughter.
“I’m not exactly thrilled to be here,” she says quietly. She’s having trouble meeting my eyes. I motion for her to sit, and when she does I sit down in front of her.
I wet my dry lips. My heart pounds as I drink in every inch of her body – like I was dying of thirst, but just didn’t notice until she walked into the room. Her full lips are pouting, begging for me to kiss them. I want to trace my tongue down her hourglass figure.
My cock surges and I flex my legs, trying to get the blood to flow into my muscles and away from a cock that suddenly decided it won’t be sated until it has Emily Jones.
“It doesn’t add up. Your dad called me, frantic, and said he couldn’t control you. But you didn’t seem like a spoiled rich kid the last time I saw you.”
She meets my eyes, and I see the flash of anger. Pride.
“A lot can change in five years. You don’t know me, Mr. Strom.”
Her insolent tone makes my blood quicken.
Tanner, call her father and get her out of here. If you spend another second with her you’re not going to be able to fight back the beast inside you. The beast that wants to break free and claim her as your property.
This is so fucking wrong. She’s half my age…
She’s my friend’s daughter…
And I need her.
“I know when I don’t have the full story. Back in the service, I didn’t send my men into a confined space unless I had the intel to ensure there was no ambush. Same situation here. It doesn’t add up. What do you possibly have to gain from driving some rich kid’s new supercar into his pool?”
She glares at me, and behind her rage I see something else.
Something deeper.
More primal.
She wants me.
I can always tell when a woman wants me. I almost wish she didn’t, because it’s going to make it even harder to resist.
If you so much as kissed a student, this whole institution fails. Your reputation is the only reason tycoons and CEOs send the kids they don’t have the time to parent to you.
“Is that what this? Some bullshit wannabe army camp?”
I yearn to bend her over my desk and spank her until she loses that dirty mouth.
She’s lost. I’m going to teach her everything she needs, even if it means holding her over my knee and turning that nice, big ass red.
“You’ll talk to me with respect. I can’t give you special treatment here, not even if I knew you when you were growing up.”
“Good. I don’t want special treatment. I just want to do my time, have you tell my dad I’m cured, and get out of here.”
I tap my fingers against the desk, perusing the firebrand in front of me.
This woman is going to be your ruin.
“If you want that to happen, you’re going to have to tell me truth. I’m not your enemy, Emily.”
Her eyes narrow. “Well, you don’t seem like my friend. I don’t want special treatment, but I also don’t want you to pay me special interest just because you know my dad. I’m here because I crashed a car into a pool. I get it. I get why my dad forced me to come here.”
I shake my head. “You’re eighteen. No one can tell you what to do.”
She snorts adorably. “Tell that to my dad. I was stupid enough to rely on him all my life. I don’t have any skills, I don’t have a job, and I can’t pay my tuition. I would have said ‘screw it’ and tried to balance work and school in some entry level job, but…”
I see the tear in her eye, and instantly my demeanor softens.
“My dad donates to the hospital I volunteer at. He… He told me if I don’t come here, he’s going to stop the donations. Please, just… Just ignore me while I’m here. I’ll do whatever I have to do, but don’t make this personal.”
Don’t make this personal.
That’s better advice than she probably thinks it is.
But I need to know. I need to know why a perfectly smart, intelligent young woman could do something like this.
I clear my throat. “I will get the truth out of you, Emily. Until then… Claudia will show you to your dorm room.�
�
The door opens, and one of my pupils gives Emily a tight smile.
Claudia shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t have entitlement or attitude problems like most of the other rich kids here. She just doesn’t eat, and for some reason, this is the only place she gets proper nutrition. The second she goes home she won’t touch a bite.
With the high stress households these poor young men and women are in, can you blame her?
Emily follows her out, and I watch her round bottom swaying as she leaves. I try not to think about it, but my hand clenches. I ache to feel her firm flesh under the palm of my hand as I teach her respect.
5
Emily Jones
“Hi, I’m Claudia.”
I’m a good judge of people, and instantly I know Claudia is going to be a good friend. She’s a little heavier than me, with a bright smile and sad eyes. She’s wearing a blue blazer with three buttons and a modest, plaid skirt that goes to her knees. Under the blazer is a pristine white dress shirt.
A little shiver runs through me, and I try to push Tanner Strom out of my mind. I know he’s too old for me, and I hate that I get a stupid, girlish pulse of desire whenever I’m near him. It’s confusing, and it makes me feel even more naïve and foolish to be here.
“I’m Emily.”
“We’re not far from dorms. The guys’ dorms are on the West Side, girls are on the South Side. How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
She nods as we walk through the hallways of the stone building and take the stairs down.
“I’m nineteen. Most of the pupils here are around your age, or a little younger.”
“What’s… What’s it like?”
She gives me a sad smile. “It’s… Sort of peaceful, if that makes sense. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. The only thing is… Stay away from Sarah. She’s kind of the Queen Bee in our dorm, and she can be testy to newcomers.”
I nod. “Thanks for the warning.”
She takes me outside, the sun’s dying light glowing like an overripe cherry. She leads me down a gravel path past a trough.
“What’s that? Are there horses?”
Claudia bites her tongue to stop herself from laughing. “Ha! Not really. That’s where we brush our teeth in the morning.”
“What? There’s no water in the dorms?”
She sighs. “I… I don’t know how to put this to you. Tanner Strom is a marketing genius. He pitches the idea to CEOs with awful kids that a little bit of good, old-fashioned discipline will set them straight.”
“Does it work?”
Claudia scrunches up her eyes. “Actually, it does. I’ve been here two years and the change in people from day one to the end of the year is… dramatic.”
“You’ve been here two years? You must have done something pretty…” I trail off, realizing I’m prying.
She ignores my question with a hurt expression. “Those are the showers. They’re shared. The thing I miss the most from home is privacy.”
She sighs. “I’m actually not here because I did something bad. It’s because of something I don’t do. If you tell me why you’re here, I’ll tell you. You don’t seem like most of the other people here.”
We walk past cabin-style buildings. A couple of girls, wearing the same clothes as Claudia, pause to glance at us. I can tell instantly that I’m going to be wearing the same plaid skirt and blue blazer uniform.
Which explains why I wasn’t supposed to bring extra clothes.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I tell Claudia. “I’m here because I drove a three-million-dollar car into a swimming pool.”
Claudia bursts out laughing, then stops when she realizing I’m being serious.
“I thought you were joking!”
“Sadly, no.”
It’s crazy being in such a new place. If you asked me a week ago where I’d be today, I’d have told you in Mike’s car, or at dinner with him, or studying with my friends – or in class.
I’d never have guessed I’d be in a military-style school for troubled rich kids.
“Alright. I’ll tell you why I’m here, if you promise not to laugh.”
“I promise,” I say instantly, “although you laughed at me!”
She stops and looks at me. “This is different. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but my mom died two years ago and I stopped eating. As a last resort my dad sent me here. Somehow… When I’m here, I can eat. I thought I was cured after last year, but it didn’t work out – so I’m back. That’s why I’m one of the oldest here.”
“Wow. That’s heavy, Claudia. Thank you for sharing.”
We stop in front of another identical cabin building.
“Well, we are here! Home sweet home.”
I pull the door open and walk in.
There are eight beds in total. Three of them have other students sitting on them, one reading a book and the other two braiding their hair.
“Hi gang. This is Emily. Emily, this is the gang – or, at least, the ones who aren’t on extra duties.”
“Extra duties?”
“It’s what you get if you’re bad,” says the girl who’s reading. “I’m Sarah Turner, of the Turner armored car family. And what is your last name?”
“Jones,” I reply, getting a bad vibe from her.
She smirks. I can tell it was a test.
Probably most of the kids have last names that mean something.
“Never heard of it. This is Stacey and Tammy,” she says, waving idly at the girls braiding their hair.
“Hi,” they say in unison.
“What did the other three girls do to get in trouble?”
Tammy giggles. “They snuck over to the boys’ dorms. Enjoy two weeks of working in the kitchens, washing dishes, you sluts.”
I raise one eyebrow, but don’t say anything. Sarah stands up. “Where’s your uniform?”
I look down at my sweater and jeans. I’m the only one who isn’t dressed in the blue blazer, white dress shirt, and plaid skirt.
“They haven’t given me one yet.”
Sarah raises her eyebrows. “You better get one soon. There are penalties for the whole dorm if one of us is out of uniform. You’d better not get us all in trouble.”
I open my mouth to answer when the door opens and Sarah sits down, looking away.
“Listen up, all of you!”
I turn, and a matronly lady in her forties glowers at us. She hands me a clear package brusquely. I can see it’s two pairs of the dress uniform in clear packaging. There are also a pair of sporty clothes.
Sporty clothes? I wonder if exercising is part of the deal here, just like at boot camp in the army.
“Thank you,” I reply, and Claudia winces.
“Did I say you could talk?”
“I’m so…”
She raises her finger to shush me.
“First order of business: You may have gained a new member to your dorm room, but you lost three others. The other girls have been sent to punitory dorms for their transgressions. They get worse food, poorer living conditions, and a lot of time to think about their actions. I trust none of you will be foolish enough to try to sneak into the boys’ dorms.”
We all shake our heads.
Punitory dorms? That sounds like a prison!
“Now, girls – I know what your favorite thing is: Our morning run. Well, our new arrival Emily hasn’t run with us for the last month. That means she owes us thirty extra runs. Which you’re all going to help her with, as a nice welcome for her.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I say, and Claudia closes her eyes tight.
“That’s twice you’ve talked without being called on. Everyone – now it’s forty extra runs.”
Sarah glares at me as if she wishes she could turn her eyes into swords and slice me down on the spot.
I open my mouth to protest, but Claudia grabs my arm and squeezes.
“Do you have a problem with that, newbie? I ask
ed you a question! Answer!”
Anger boils up inside me, but I know better than to get my team in more trouble. I shake my head.
“No problem.”
“Good,” the matron says, smiling warmly. “Now get changed and give me those clothes.”
I look around for a place to change, but don’t see one.
Now I know what Claudia meant about privacy.
I pull off my sweater, and thankfully everyone turns away discreetly. I change into the uniform. The outfit is tight and stiff, but I think it’ll feel better as I wear it in.
“My name is Miss. Turner. I’m the supervisor of the women’s dormitories. The rules are simple: Lights out at 2100 hours.” She pronounced it the military way – ‘twenty-one-hundred hours.’ “No noise after 2100 hours. Outfits will be kept spotless, and if there any issues report to the laundry for cleaning. Morning bell is at zero-six-hundred and the daily run is at 0615 hours. Breakfast is served at 0700 hours – first come, first served. Classes run from 0800 hours to 1800 hours, with appropriate breaks for meals, and dinner is at 1830 hours. You then have free time before lights out. Claudio will explain the rest. Now, do you have any questions?”
A million questions swarm through my mind. This place doesn’t feel real. It’s like a weird dream that I’m having.
I wish I could wake up.
“I… I don’t understand this place. My dad just trucked me over here without explaining. I don’t even know what the classes are.”
Miss. Turner smiles. “General studies with rigorous standards, ranging from entry-level university mathematics to sociology. We’re an accredited private university and students of Strom Academy earn two-years worth of credits in the space of one condensed year.”
Shit. This is going to be full-on.
“Thank you,” I reply, not sure if I’m allowed to talk.
“Good. Thirty minutes to lights out. I better not hear any giggling after dark.”
She turns and leaves, and Sarah stands up, giving me a hard poke in my breastbone. It stings.
“You just forced us all to run double in the morning. You better make sure your friend doesn’t have a heart attack.” She looks pointedly at Claudia, who looks down. Claudia and I might be heavier than the stick-thin Queen Bee who thinks she runs this place – but I know it’s unfair to judge.