His Brat: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Isabella Starling

  But before I manage to do that, he hauls me up by my elbows, harsh and angry as fuck.

  "You're going home," he says, buttoning his pants.

  "What the fuck?" I yelp. "You're hurting me, jackass!"

  He moves away from me, his whole body shaking. He has to lean against the wall for support. "This is fucked up," he says, and then repeats it several times as if it makes things better. "Fucked up, fucked up, fucked up."

  "Max," I say softly.

  "Don't.”

  "Sir..."

  He slams his body against mine. "Fucking don't."

  My heart is in my throat as his mouth slides down my neck, inhaling me like I'm some kind of drug. And it seems like he'll never have enough, his fingers bunching in my dress... But then he pulls away and finally yanks my panties up.

  "Get home," he says. "We're done."

  "Max?" I ask, my bottom lip shivering.

  "This is wrong, we both know it." He leans down and hands me my bag and my phone. "Get an Uber. Go home. Stop thinking about me."

  "Will you stop thinking about me?" I ask.

  He gives me a fierce look. "Never."

  And with that, he retreats into the shadowy alley, leaving me to gather my pride, my heart and my love off the floor.

  As I climb into my Uber minutes later, I see him watching me from the shadows, and I feel my resolve strengthen inside me. He may think this is over, but I'll fucking show him who he belongs to.

  7

  Max

  After the debacle in the alleyway, I steer clear of Lola Grace. I don't need her messing with my head—I'm doing a fine job of that myself. I just need to get through the next few months, make sure my head is clear, and then I can be with her when all this shit has blown over.

  I spend most of my days in my apartment, only appearing when Annabel requires me to. I'm fully aware I'm her goddamn puppet, and I hate the thought of it, but the words of my parents always ring back in my head.

  You killed her.

  You're the reason she's dead.

  Quinn…

  I'll never forgive myself, Quinn. I hope you can forgive me, wherever you are.

  My thoughts of her are mixing with images of Lola Grace, and I can barely focus on reality. Annabel is becoming more and more demanding, and I’m becoming aware of the responsibilities I have with the woman. She makes it plenty clear she’s going to need my help with her campaign, and I’m going to need to help her any way I can.

  A few days after the alley incident, I agree to meet Annabel in her place to discuss some campaigning options. For once, I wake up in a good mood. I decide to meet Annabel early, and surprise her with coffee. Maybe I can make things easier on both of us if I act like the lapdog she wants me to be.

  This is temporary, I keep telling myself as I head to the bakery on the way to Annabel’s house. As soon as the fucking campaign is over, I can go back to being who I really am. I won’t need to deal with anyone’s shit anymore, and Lola Grace will be all mine.

  I grab a bear claw and two coffees at the bakery, eating the pastry on my way to Annabel’s place. I’m pretty sure her strict-as-fuck diet doesn’t allow for any extra calorie intake.

  The security guard in Annabel’s building knows me by now, and he lets me in with a grin. I discard the wrapper of the pastry and head up with the two coffees. The elevator ride is excruciatingly long, and I can’t help but let my thoughts drift.

  For weeks now, every thought I’ve had has revolved around Lola Grace.

  The way she feels in my arms. Her soft skin against mine. Inhaling her scent, fucking her like she was meant to be mine. This shit is getting harder and harder, and I’m becoming painfully aware of the fact that I need her in my life, badly.

  The elevator dings, waking me up from my thoughts, and I walk out into the hallway. The whole floor is owned by Annabel, and I don’t bother knocking before heading into her apartment.

  I walk along the marble hallway and leave the coffee cups on the counter in the fancy, perpetually unused kitchen. No sign of Annabel. I head to the living room to sit in one of the horribly uncomfortable chairs and wait for her, but something else catches my attention.

  There’s clothes strewn all over the floor leading to the bedroom. Not that I’ve seen the bedroom, but I assume it’s in the back, like in most apartments in the city. I follow the trail a little curiously, feeling amused. Of course I know what I’m going to find before I even push the bedroom door open.

  Lola Grace’s mother is riding some guy’s dick, letting out noises that would rival any porn actress. Her hair is wild and messy, a change from the usual chignon she favors. She’s butt-naked. Her body’s tight as fuck, but in a way I hate. Like she’s almost emaciated.

  The guy below her is thrusting his hips inside her at a pathetic pace.

  “Well, don’t let me fucking stop you,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

  Annabel shrieks and climbs off the guy in an instant. I merely grin at her as she shoots me a horrified look and covers herself up with a sheet.

  “I see your business meeting is running late,” I add to my previous statement.

  “You’re not due here for an hour,” she spits at me.

  “I thought I’d be the nice guy for once and come early,” I say, giving the guy on the bed a pointed look. His thighs are sticky. “Just like your friend here.”

  “Fuck off, man,” he growls at me, and I gear up for a fight. It’s just what I fucking need, to smash this man’s face in and let out all of my frustrations, finally letting it all out. But he dresses quickly instead, and my hopes of a brawl are extinguished by the time he gets up.

  Annabel’s putting on clothes in a hurry too, but I don’t bother moving from the doorway. I am her husband, after all. “Don’t mind me,” I drawl. “Take your fucking time, I’m only her goddamn husband.”

  My eyes zone in on the man and I furrow my brows. “Hey, have we met?” I ask him. He looks oddly familiar, though I can’t quite place him. Maybe he just has one of those faces. It is pretty average looking.

  “Not that I recall,” he snarls at me, brushing past me to get out of the room. “Call me later, Annabel.”

  Annabel doesn’t say a word back, instead just glaring at me and covering up her nakedness by buttoning up her blouse. I step closer to her, knowing full well how intimidating I look in my suit, towering over her. She gasps and looks up at me, and the sick bitch actually has a horny look on that cosmetically-enhanced face.

  “Annabel,” I say with a smirk.

  “Y-yes,” she stutters.

  “Your blouse is buttoned up wrong,” I add, and grin in her face. If she thinks she’s getting me, she’s mighty fucking wrong. There’s no way, even if Lola Grace wasn’t in the picture. Now that I saw her fucking that guy, all thoughts of her as a beautiful woman have gone out the window.

  Though I guess it’s the pot calling the kettle black. I was just lusting after the woman’s daughter moments ago… I shake my head to get the thoughts out. I need to treat this as it is—a business transaction, and nothing else.

  She blushes furiously and starts doing up her blouse again, turning her back to me. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, darling,” I say with another smirk, and she hisses something over her shoulder. I wait for her to finish before walking back into the living room.

  “So,” I begin. “What else have you been doing besides fucking someone else while you’re supposedly happily-fucking-married?”

  Annabel marches up to me and jabs a finger in my chest. “You’re one to talk,” she says sharply.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask in a pointed tone.

  Annabel snorts before answering. “Don’t give me that shit, Max. You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at her?”

  I look at my wife for a long time before exhaling slowly. It feels like I’ve been holding this breath in for weeks. “I don’t know what you mean,” I reply smoothly. “As far as the media is concerned, I’m your
faithful husband.”

  “Yes, as far as the media is concerned,” Annabel repeats, coming dangerously close. Her breath is cloying and almost sickly sweet, so different to Lola Grace it makes me cringe. “But we both know you have a hard-on every time my daughter is near, Maxwell.”

  I start to speak, but she places a revolting finger on my lips, and I inch away from her touch.

  “Shh,” she tells me with a self-assured smile. “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours, darling.”

  We stare at each other wordlessly until she finally grins, realizing she’s won—for now.

  Once again, I find myself wishing for this business transaction to be over already.

  8

  Lola Grace

  Even though I’ve been doing my best to run into Max again, he seems to be good at avoiding me. It’s pissing me off, because we both know we’d rather be together. Why does he have to make things so difficult for both of us? All I want is to finally be with him. And we both know we’ll end up together… He’s just making me wait, and I don’t like it one bit.

  School has been taking up a lot of my time, and one autumn morning, my professor calls me in to discuss a grade. I’m stressed as hell and manage to topple over a mountain of ungraded papers on my way into her office.

  Mrs. Roberts sits me down at her desk, giving me a concerned look. I already don’t like where this is going. I hope she doesn’t feed me some shit about my family.

  Of course, that’s exactly what she does.

  An hour later, I leave my professor’s office barely biting back a snarky reply. I managed to bite my tongue and not say a word, but I’m angry as I make my way out of the building. All these people at school think they know me, but seeing my family in the media, hearing my mom speak and hearing her plans for the city… It’s just a pretense, a lie, a façade she puts on for the media.

  I know people feel sorry for me about my dad, what with him passing when I was so young—but I barely knew him. I don’t need sympathy for losing a man I don’t even remember. What I do need is somebody to understand me… the way Max does.

  “Hey LG, everything good?”

  A voice interrupts me, cutting through my thoughts and bringing me back to earth. I look into a pair of friendly eyes and force myself to smile at Brett. He’s been texting me relentlessly, and while I ignore his calls and messages for the most part, I really can’t just walk past him in person.

  “Yep, all great,” I say simply, and give him a compulsory hug which he leans in for. Bet Max wouldn’t like that, I think rebelliously, somewhat pleased in the knowledge he would be angry.

  “You seem down,” Brett says. “A bunch of us are heading out for drinks. Do you wanna come with?”

  I think it over. I do still have my fake ID from the bar we went to with Stacy. I guess I could join them. Now that would really piss off Max. I don’t even know why I feel the need to make him react, but I know he’s been ignoring me and I don’t like the feeling.

  “Okay,” I find myself agreeing. “Let me just drop my books at home and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Perfect.” Brett grins back at me. “Be at this address at eleven P.M., okay?”

  “Sure.” I take a small piece of paper from him and he nudges me playfully.

  “Can’t wait to see you all dressed up,” he teases me.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I tell him.

  “Oh, I will. But you’ll look amazing in anything you wear, LG. See you later!”

  I wave him off, staring after him with a mellow expression. I really wish a guy like Brett would do something for me—on paper, and in person, he is absolutely perfect. All-American, honest, sweet and kind; the kind of guy my mom would be thrilled to see me engaged to. But all I can think about is Max… his hands all over my body, his fingers threading through my hair. And it just doesn’t compare.

  I walk home with a heavy heart, my thoughts once again filled with my stepfather and all the things he does to me.

  After coming home, I make a few quick calls and somehow convince Stacy to come to the bar with me. Feeling more confident now that I’m armed with a friend, I dress to the nines in a tight black dress and the boots I wore when I met Max. I skip the wig and apply a heavy dose of makeup instead, hoping I pass for twenty-one.

  Stacy meets me a block away from the bar. Giggling and planning our evening together reminds me of simpler times, but Max’s face keeps popping back into my mind and I can’t help but wish I were with him instead.

  “Let’s go in,” Stacy pesters me. “I want to see Jack.”

  Jack is Brett’s best friend, who has been flirting with Stacy for a week now. I giggle, giving into her pleading and following her to the bar. My heart pounds as the bouncer checks our IDs, giving us long and doubtful looks. Finally, he lets us in with a nod of his head and a short sigh, and Stacy and I squeal as we walk inside the bar.

  I spot Brett right away, and he notices us as well. His eyes light up when he spots us, and I can see the tell-tale look in them, the one that lets me know he’s either drunk or high. I smile reluctantly and follow Stacy to the bar.

  Brett hugs me tightly and lifts me off the floor. I don’t like it, and I struggle to break free, but once I’m back on the floor I give him a smile nonetheless, hating myself for being so indecisive. Brett is such a nice guy. Such a safe choice. Maybe a good way to forget Max.

  I find myself looking into his eyes as he chatters about something, trying my best not to compare them to those of my stepfather. I do relatively well, getting lost in his meaningless words and nodding at all the right places to make sure it seems like I’m following the conversation.

  A look over Brett’s shoulder reveals Stacy hooking up with Jack already, and I smile sadly to myself. At least my friend got what she wanted, even if I wasn’t so lucky.

  “LG, you look really down tonight,” Brett says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  “I guess it’s just school stuff,” I reply with a shrug. “Mrs. Roberts called me into her office today, asked me if my family situation is making me slack on assignments.” I don’t mean for the words to slip out, but I guess I’m desperate to talk to someone.

  “With your mom running for mayor and all that?” Brett asks, his voice sympathetic.

  I look into his sweet eyes and wish like nothing else I could just tell him the whole truth.

  No, Brett, because I fucked her husband.

  Because I’m in love with my stepfather.

  Because all I can think about is his hands on my naked skin, his cock inside me.

  “Yeah,” I reply lamely, and Brett smiles, patting my shoulder like I’m a dog or something. “It’ll be better once the race is over; everything will calm down a little and we’ll all be able to breathe again.”

  “I’m sure,” he replies with a carefree chuckle. “Hey, you got a new stepdad too, right?”

  Suddenly, I feel really sick, to the point where I’m sure I’ll just topple over and dirty the whole floor with my vomit. I look away from Brett’s inquisitive eyes and try my hardest to think of an excuse to get away from all this, right now. I need to leave.

  I remember Max’s number in my phone and I desperately want to call it, have him pick me up even if it means being scolded and yelled at. I just need to feel his arms around me tonight.

  “I need to get some fresh air,” I breathe, but Brett’s hand catches my forearm before I can make it another step.

  “Woah, LG, you look pale as a ghost,” he says worriedly. “Why don’t you have a drink? I’ll walk you out after that and make sure you’re all right, okay?”

  I give him a grateful smile. How easy my life could be if I fell for someone like Brett instead. I find myself nodding slowly, accepting the drink he passes me. I down it in one go, grimacing when the bitter taste hits my tongue.

  “That was absolutely disgusting,” I say, and Brett laughs out loud.

  “You not a fan of liquor?” he teases me.

  “Not
when it tastes like that,” I reply with a smile.

  “Okay. How about I walk you out now?” Brett says. I smile back and take the hand he extends towards me. “I’ll make sure you get home all right, Lola Grace, don’t worry. I’ll call you a cab or walk you or whatever. Just come with me.”

  I gratefully accept his offer and walk outside with him. The night air is balmy and pleasant and I almost feel like things are about to get better. Brett will make sure I’m fine and then I can call Max.

  Because that’s all I want… Max.

  9

  Lola Grace

  “Fuck dude, are you sure she’s all right?”

  “Yeah, fucking positive.”

  “But we gave her a lot. Too much even?”

  “Yeah. She commented on the taste.”

  The voices are hazy and I hear them before I see their owners. I slowly come to, my whole body pounding as if it’s been beaten. I realize my head is throbbing like someone’s hit me with a hammer, and my core hurts badly too. There’s another kind of pain, something that makes my head feel like it’s filled with wool.

  “Shit!”

  My eyes fly open in an instant, and they don’t need to adjust to the light, because there is none. We’re in complete darkness, and I feel cold. Really fucking cold.

  My hands fly up to my chest, and I feel my own bare flesh underneath my fingertips. It’s covered in goose bumps. It’s freezing in here, so why am I naked?

  I sit up, feeling something soft under my ass. The voices are quiet now. I feel around myself, quickly realizing I’m sitting on a bed. “Mom?” I manage to get out in a small voice.

  “Your mom’s not here, darling,” a familiar voice tells me, and I look around until I finally connect with a pair of familiar eyes. I smile weakly, covering up my body to keep some decency.

  “Brett, thank god you’re here. What the hell happened?” I ask, my voice soft and scared.

  “Oh, not much,” he replies nonchalantly. I am starting to come to, and now I have a really bad feeling. A pounding in my head, in my stomach, in my whole body. Something definitely isn’t right here.