Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  Shaking my head, I allow everything I'm feeling—anger, sadness, betrayed—to slide out of my body like rain down a windowpane. There's no use in it. Instead of helping me, it would only cause me to harbor a senseless grudge that’ll suck the very life out of my body.

  "You know what ... I don't even care anymore," I say, and my defeated tone makes Hunter stop and really look at me. "No matter what I tell you, you're going to believe what you want. No matter what kind of proof I shove down your throat, you will never say Maverick is yours. You automatically assume he's the product of a fling with your brother. So, whatever ... do what you want."

  "What are you saying?" He backtracks from the bed like I physically wounded him instead of the other way around. His eyes flick between mine, trying his best to read my mind, but it's useless.

  My mind is a dark place to frolic, even for someone like Hunter.

  Meeting his eyes, I release an exasperated huff of air at the sight of his confusion. All the need and fight is gone. Fixing my shirt, I slide off the bed and stand just in front of him. It hurts to be this close to him and see the doubt in his eyes, but I know I need to do this.

  "If you don't believe me, then that's your problem. I'm through fighting over it. And my son doesn't need that kind of negativity, either. Yes, what I did was wrong. Keeping him from you and your family wasn't a wise decision. But can’t you see the reason I did it? This, right here, is exactly why.”

  "Harloe, that's still no excuse—" He tries to butt in, but I put my hand up to stop him. This isn't his time to talk. It's mine. And I'm finally going to make sure my voice is heard.

  "You don't want to be his dad?" I ask, my body filling with determination. "Then go back to pretending I don't exist. That's one of the things you're best at, anyway."

  Stepping past him, I make my way out of the room. He doesn't follow, doesn't even try to stop me from leaving. All the while, my heart feels like it's shattering for the second time inside my chest. Little pieces are sticking to every vital organ, slicing and dicing, making me bleed from the inside out.

  Everything hurts—my heart, my head, my lungs from not being able to breathe.

  Making my out of the hallway, I come face-to-face with three solemn expressions. Easton can't even look me in the eye. No loss there.

  Zeke won't look away like he knows what went down, and he's known about it for quite some time. I narrow my eyes at him, holding my breath to keep from huffing and puffing like an angry beast.

  The last person I glance up at is Leo, who looks like he's swallowed his tongue.

  "This whole time you had a kid and didn't tell me?" he murmurs so low, I barely hear him.

  "Couldn't tell you. It would've gotten back to Hunter," I explain.

  "You could've told me. I would have guarded your secret with my life."

  See, that's the problem with these Golden Crew boys. The only secrets they guard are their own, no one else's. And they think us civilians don’t know that. Well, that’s his mistake.

  I bark out a rasping laugh. "Never thought I'd see the day Leo Sutton would lie to me." I shake my head, disappointed. "Why would I risk him finding out about his son if he doesn't even believe he's his?"

  Leo's eyes round in shock, his gaze darting back toward the hallway, before his eyes find mine again. "Oh, yeah." I nod my head. "Didn't tell you, did he? Your boy back there? He thinks I fucked Owen back in high school, and he's whose baby I had."

  I leave without another word, slamming the door behind me. Fuck Hunter. Fuck the entire Prince name. Just as soon as I can, I'm ridding Maverick of that filth and making him a Rose. If it weren’t for my dad, I’d probably just change both of our last names and be done with it. You know, start fresh.

  All I know is Maverick doesn't deserve the kind of attention he’ll get if his own father denies him, nor does he deserve the hurt.

  So, I won't tell him about any of this. When he gets old enough to ask about his dad, I'll make up a story and stick to it. Maverick will never know that he was unwanted.

  By the time I get halfway across campus, I hear my name being shouted from behind me. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head as I groan long and hard.

  It's Hunter.

  Hastening my steps, I'm near my apartment before he catches up with me, jerking me around by my elbow.

  "What do you want?" I seethe, jerking my arm away from him.

  He gasps for air, saying, "A paternity test."

  All the air in my body whooshes out like I've been punched in the gut. A paternity test? He wants proof that Maverick isn't his.

  Looking at him like he's crazy, I merely shake my head in disbelief at such a request. I start walking backward, keeping him in my sight at all times.

  If he can make a request like that with a straight face, then it's untelling what other crap he'll do to get his way. Hunter has sunk to an all-time low.

  What sucks the most is the fact he can't just take my word for it. It's not like I'm asking him to help out with Maverick, financially or emotionally. If that were my plan all along, regardless of how I felt about Hunter, I would have shown up and demanded child support.

  That's not what this is about. Never in my life have I felt so low, even that night he cast me out of their house like I was a walking disease. All because he thought I lied to him, cheated on him, with his brother, of all people.

  I've never lied to him before, and I don’t plan on doing so now.

  If you can't do something without having to create some elaborate story to cover your tracks, then by God, maybe you shouldn't be doing it. And I never created some story, I just didn't say anything. Why should I have? I never expected to see Hunter again. I never expected things to go down like this and have to explain myself for not telling them about Maverick.

  I didn't think any of them deserved to know about the precious soul who literally saved my life. They didn't need to taint Maverick's innocence with filth and lies.

  And again, I didn't think I'd ever see Hunter! That needs to be said twice because it's the most important.

  “Are you freaking kidding—”

  "Yes," he interrupts me. "I want a paternity test."

  "Because you still think he's Owen's."

  When he doesn't answer, my insides feel like they're being overrun by lava. Heat encases every sliver of my being, and it's all directed at the man standing in front of me.

  I feel like one of the mentally deranged—stoic and blank on the outside, but on the inside, I'm bouncing off the walls, grabbing my hair by the handfuls, and jerking it out.

  Hunter makes me feel like I'm insane.

  For God's sake, he's the only guy I've ever had sex with! He's the only man who’s known me intimately, and that includes something as innocent as fucking kissing. Even when I dated Leo, he and I never kissed. Never so much as tried.

  "You are fucking crazy if you think I'm putting my son through that when I already know, for a fact, who the father is. Fucking. Crazy."

  "Stop jumping to conclusions,” he growls, looking fresh with anger. “A paternity test is the only way."

  I snort. "I don't care what you think the only way is. You'll either believe me or you won't, and Hunter, I really don't give a shit if you do."

  Hunter advances on me as I backtrack toward my apartment. "Lo, work with me here, okay? I'm not saying this shit to hurt you."

  You're doing a fairly good job of it, anyway. That's all he's been capable of doing since that dreadful night.

  Hurt me with his villainous actions.

  Hurt me with his words.

  Hurt me with his absence.

  And now, he's hurting me with his doubt.

  Hunter is a bottomless pit of hurt, and I've been burned by him enough to last a lifetime.

  "All you do is hurt people," I snark with a cruel expression. "You pushed me out of your life over a lie. A lie you, apparently, still believe. Did you ever stop and consider that maybe, just maybe, the one who could be lying is your br
other?"

  "That’s not what this is about. Furthermore, what reason would he have to lie, Harloe?" He looks away, jaw ticking in anger. "When you told me it was a lie, I almost believed you. I was ready to call my brother a liar and stomp his ass again. But then a kid pops up out of nowhere, with the evidence already lined up against you. What am I supposed to take from that? We. Were. Always. Careful."

  "He is lying!" I cry out, frustrated. "Instead of making up excuses, stop blaming me for something I didn’t do! Ask him! Get to the bottom of it! You know, like I told you to do weeks ago. Also, the reason I never told you about Maverick is because I knew, I knew in the bottom of my heart, you'd eventually do the same to him that you did to me."

  I head into my apartment complex. I'm seriously thinking someone has a curse on me or something because my life has gone to shit all within the span of a week. No sooner than I start up the stairs, Hunter's shoes pound the concrete behind me as he closes in.

  I groan. The fight that's been burning inside my gut is pretty much all steam at this point. Fighting with Hunter is like fighting with a brick wall. He's not ignorant, but he is bullheaded and stubborn. He always thinks he's right.

  Just like his mini-me always thinks he's right.

  All the fight drains out of me. My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds by this point. I am absolutely through with this. I expected Hunter to take it terribly, yes. But I never, in all my wildest dreams, expected he'd try to outright deny that Maverick is his son.

  Never. And that fucking hurts.

  Grumbling under my breath at the absurdity that is my life, I get to the top step and can't take it anymore. Turning toward him, I cross my arms and refuse to move. "Hunter, go away."

  He stops on the step down from mine, but with his height, it makes us eye level. He stares hard as if trying to overpower me mentally and make me back down. I have news for him—it doesn't work like that. My top priority is protecting my son, and Hunter is a threat.

  A threat that should never have been a threat in the first place

  "Let me see him."

  "Why?" I throw out my arms, completely fed up with his juvenile behavior. "So you can let your venomous lies taint him?" I shake my head, saying, "I don't think so.”

  "You can't stop me." He rumbles in agitation, pressing closer until our fronts touch. “Why are you making things so difficult?! You’re taking everything out of proportion. It should be me who’s throwing a temper tantrum right now, not you.”

  His fucking name is on the birth certificate, too. God, why am I so freaking stupid? I should have told the doctors I didn't know who the father was.

  He steps forward once more, and his height and bulk force me to move a step back. My body is aware of his touching and gliding against mine, and just like biology, my nipples harden to tight peaks. Even though nothing about what he's doing right now is sexual, that doesn't stop my body from intimately noticing how close we are.

  "Step off, Hunt." I grind my teeth, hating the way my entire body lights up with his proximity.

  Even when he's being an asshole, my body turns into a wanton slut.

  "Make me, little con," he breathes angrily, his voice having taken a huskier note, chest rising and falling just a tad faster.

  We both stand in silence, battling with the other. Hunter isn’t going to back down from this, no matter how hard I push in return. He’s determined, just like I was when I left his house.

  "Ugh, you're so infuriating!" I whisper-yell, nearly throwing a hissy fit right there on the landing. "Why do you want to see him so much, hmm? You've already denied that he's yours, even though he is."

  "I did—I just have my reasons, okay?" He sighs, stepping away from me. "Now, let’s get this over with."

  Rolling my eyes, I turn around and head toward my door. There's no use in telling Hunter no, or even trying to force him to leave.

  What Hunter wants, Hunter gets.

  He follows after me like a lost puppy. I can't stop myself from peering back over my shoulder, catching his eyes once, and then catching him staring at my ass on the last time. A blush steals across my face when I spy the look of hunger flash through his eyes. He licks his lips, completely unaware I'm seeing him visually feasting on my backside.

  But nothing is going to happen. He's an asshole. I've made it a point to stay away from assholes.

  My brother is going to pay for this. I swear on all that's holy, I'm taking him down.

  When I get to my door, I hesitate for a moment. My pause causes Hunter to huff and puff with annoyance.

  He's irritated? I'm being forced, knowing if I don't do what he says, then he'll bend my arm anyway. And this is all to let him see his son—a little boy whom he doesn't even have the balls to claim. If I weren’t already crippled from that alone, the fact that he's even standing here right now would do the trick.

  Maverick doesn't deserve to be anyone's second choice. I couldn’t care less about me. But for him? His dad is Hunter Prince, and no paternity test will say differently. But fuck, how it would be grand to see Hunter proven wrong after all these years. That train of thought seizes my muscles, my mind running a mile a minute.

  "Are you going to open the door?" he grunts.

  Standing there, I try to push my anger and humiliation to the side and think from a different standpoint. It's hard, not going to lie. My emotions are heightened, and all I want to do is dig my heels into the ground and not budge an inch.

  But what would it feel like to finally prove him wrong? How good would it feel to look Hunter in the eye, knowing that he knows how fucked he made everything?

  Fuck, I’d probably dance a jig and scream from the rooftops, I told you so!

  There's no doubt in my mind who Maverick's father is. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, when being asked to take a paternity test, it's not my feelings that are hurt, it's my pride.

  However, I think pride is going to take a backseat on this one. I’ll get that back, in spades, when the test comes back. And then, I’ll go a goddamn step further and force Owen to tell the truth. I don’t give a damn if Hunter has to take me to see Owen himself. If he won’t fix this mess, then I freaking will.

  Oh, yeah. It’s going down.

  Turning toward Hunter, I release all the negative energy inside me. "I'll do your test."

  He cocks a brow in suspicion. "You will?"

  "Yeah." I nod.

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to see your face when you find out Maverick is yours." I point into the apartment behind me.

  "What if he's not?" he asks, and I swear, God, strike me down dead, that I hear a hint of melancholy filter into his words. Still, it just has to be me hearing things. Hunter wouldn’t be sad about losing out on something he never had.

  "He is. After we get the test results, you’re going to take me with you to ask Owen once and for all. If I’m there, I won’t let him fucking lie.”

  He swallows hard but stands just as strong as me. “Fine with me.”

  “And then,” I add as an afterthought, “I’m going to get the papers drawn up to legally fix his birth certificate and change his name. My son doesn't deserve to be associated with anyone who doesn't believe he belongs to them."

  His features pinch angrily. "I don't think so. If he's a Prince by blood, then he's gonna have our last name, woman."

  "If?" I release a dry chuckle, but the reality of it is a sad, sad thing.

  “I didn’t fucking mean it like that. Stop putting words into my goddamn mouth, woman,” he grinds out, practically foaming at the mouth with anger.

  "Maverick is yours, Hunter. Deep down, you know it just as much as I do. And when this test says that, don't bother coming near us. He hasn't needed you for the first two years of his life, and he won't need you for the next fifty."

  Just from the hassle he's given me for the past hour, I know he won't step up and be the kind of dad Maverick needs. It's okay to be pissed off at me, but not at a child. They’re innocent
.

  Maverick doesn't need that. I don't need that. It's just been Maverick and me since the beginning, and after this test, it’ll still be him and me. Because if Hunter doesn't believe me now, he's not going to believe me when the results come back.

  I'm not going to spend my life making up for Hunter's shortfalls, especially when it comes to our son. I’ll love Maverick enough for both of us.

  CHAPTER 28

  Every word that comes out of my mouth screams asshole. Even when I'm not trying to be, I can't seem to help it. Harloe just pisses me off with the best of them, and knowing she's hidden something as monumental as a child away from me makes me go over the deep end.

  I'm not asking for a paternity test to prove who the father is. I'm asking because my parents will not accept that little boy as an heir without proof. I don't care who takes the test, either Owen or myself, that test is getting taken.

  Plus, as shameful as it sounds, I can't help wanting validation. I know. Pathetic, right?

  When Duncan told me about Maverick, all I could think about was Harloe and Owen. About how he told me they slept together, describing the little noise she made whenever it felt just right.

  I thought about them sneaking around behind my back, in every possible position known to man, and I flipped out on her. Couldn't help it. She'd always been mine, and then ... she just wasn't.

  Even with the knowledge that Harloe's never lied to me before—that she detests liars as much as I do—I allowed my anger to get the best of me and said some hateful things. Stuff I can never take back. And fuck, I don't know. It's messing with me something fierce.

  I'm not perfect. No one is.

  Which is the realization I came to regarding Harloe, all the while I was waiting for her to figure out I'd fucked with her essay in Professor Erikson's class. I didn't, really. I'd never do something as vile as that. But since she hadn't even tried to tell me, even though I knew she had Maverick in that apartment with her, I had to do something.

  My first thought was to storm into the apartment and demand answers like Duncan accused me of wanting to do. I'd rather eat dog food than to prove that asshole right. So, I got crafty. I hit her where it hurts—or so she believes. And it got me what I wanted in the end.