Dirty Dark Prey: A Dark College Bully Romance (Elite Royal University Duet Book 2)

by L. J. Woods

  We walk towards the main room, sofas lining the walls and he tells me to wait here as he yells. “Remy! You have …” He stalls, looking at my tits. “Guests.”

  Pushing a tight smile on my face while I wait, I gaze around the room. It’s almost as big as Isaac’s. Almost as classy. Big leather sofas sit around a lit-up table in the middle of the room, glasses and bottles scattered on top. It’s cluttered but the wood and leather still shine.

  Two doors slide open like curtains, a tall man muttering on his phone in what sounds like French. “Oui, à bientôt.” He’s more slender than Isaac, long hair flopped to one side. He has some style in a fancy suit, but his clothes hang off his body in a way that shows he doesn’t care.

  The room behind him is even bigger and it looks like a stereotypical man’s dream. Billiard tables, dart boards and a giant bar towards the back below a massive screen. There’s even a pole in the middle of it all, a small stage around it.

  The doors frame him as he eyes me up, then his brows furrow. “You are not one of my girls …”

  My eyes move to that pole again, giving me an idea. “I can be. Crystal tells me you know how to treat a girl very well.”

  With narrowed grays, he approaches me, circling me like he’s sizing up his meal. “Is that so?”

  “That’s right.” I don’t know who Crystal is but guys like this? They don’t remember names. “She says Remy is the man.” Lowering my eyes to his crotch, I raise a brow so he gets my gist.

  “She is correct,” he says, walking towards the room as his bald friend gestures for me to follow along. When I step in behind them, Baldy holds out his arms, making me do the same and he frisks me, taking way too long by my tits and ass. “Remy Roy is the man. The question is, can you handle working for me?”

  His French accent is a little hard to decipher but that name lingers in my head. “Roy? As in … Marion Roy?”

  He pauses, his ass hovering over the suede chaise, slacks pinched between his fingers in each hand. Then his gray eyes flick up to mine. “What do you know about my mother?” That’s when I notice another gun on the end table beside him and I hope I didn’t give him a reason to use it.

  Baldy stares at me too and it’s not like I can say Isaac is on trial for her murder. So I think of something else, ignoring the pounding in my chest. “I hear she’s a powerful woman.”

  “Is that what you want to be?” he asks, settling on the sofa as I try to slow my breathing. “A powerful woman?”

  “I much prefer being around powerful men,” I lie. If my mom could hear me now, she’d be hella proud.

  He nods, gesturing to Baldy who moves over to the bar. “Smart girl.” Then he tips his head to the pole as Baldy comes around with a bottle. “Show me what you got.”

  Looking up at the pole, velvet bag in my hand, I take a second before my eyes land on the small bathroom tucked to the side. “Mind if I freshen up?”

  His shoulders drop. “I don’t have all day.”

  Nodding, I make my way to the bathroom but when I get in front of him, I bend over so he can see the goods. “I’m worth the wait.” Then I slink over to the door with a look over my shoulder and a bite of my lip.

  Once inside, I collapse against the door and reach for the phone.

  “King” is the only number in there so I text it so the guys don’t hear me speaking to the enemy.

  Lexi: Did you know he’s Marion’s son?? Remy Roy???

  His reply is instant.

  King: Where are you?

  Lexi: Bathroom. Cant stay for long. Wtf am I doing?

  King: Get him alone. Is there a window? Leave it open. I’ll be there in twenty.

  Looking over at the small port window, it’ll be a tight fit, but it's large enough to get through. Popping it open, I look over the side. There’s a ledge and I hope he knows what he’s doing or it’s gonna make a big fucking splash.

  Lexi: Now what?

  I wait for an answer but I don’t get anything, so I look in the bag. Inside, my head tilts as I pull out a black lacy one-piece with a matching garter and tights. I’ll give it to him, King knows his lingerie.

  Remy calls from beyond the door. “I’m getting impatient, mon Cherie!”

  I’m quick changing into my outfit while I send Damien another text.

  Lexi: Hello???

  While waiting for another couple of minutes, someone bangs on the door. Remy calls again in a sing-song voice that sounds more threatening than alluring.

  King doesn’t respond, giving me no choice but to trust him.

  Twenty minutes.

  I can handle twenty minutes alone with the son of Marion Roy … right?

  Remy calls again, “You know, if this—”

  I swing the door open before he can finish his sentence, Baldy greeting me. His mouth opens when he sees my outfit and that puts a smirk on my face. Flipping my hair, it's time to put on a show.

  “Put on “Love to Love You Baby” by Donna Summer," I demand. It’s the longest song I know.

  Baldy obliges as I get up on that stage, the disco song blasting over the yacht speakers. While I move to the rhythm in the slinky way I know he’ll like, Remy settles into his seat as I plan my next task.

  How the hell am I gonna get him alone?

  His eyes stay on me as I drop to my knees, mimicking the moves I've seen other girls do. I’m playing to Remy, giving him flirty eyes, a flip of my hair. Leaning over so he can see my tits, his gaze settles on them as I crawl to his lap. He’s already hard before I bring his hands to my chest, grinding against him.

  If it looks like I'm into Remy, I'm doing my job right. But this dance is as cold and soulless as I am at this moment. The only thing keeping me going is how mad Isaac would be if he saw me. The rage I know he'll take out on me fuels me.

  Focus, Lexi.

  Remy groans, his hands pulling at the lace, but I slap them away. “If you’re looking to see all my skills, a private show is where I shine the best.” I flick my eyes to Baldy, making sure he gets what I’m saying. He stalls. So I give him less to think about when I pull my top down, cold air grazing my breasts. “I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

  Remy wraps an arm around me, flicking a finger at Baldy. “Don’t move from the front.”

  I’m relieved when Baldy leaves but when Remy starts undoing his tie, I gulp. He leans closer to my ear but it doesn’t give me that same blissful shudder Isaac gives. It grosses me out. “So … show me what you got for this very powerful man.”

  “Uh …” My eyes land on the bar. "You can't rush perfection, Remy. How about a drink? Just us two?”

  His eyes narrow. “You have had your fun. Let me have mine.”

  My back hits the sofa. His smile widens. He’s quick unbuckling his belt like he has to take a leak. There’s no suaveness. No smoothness. And when he whips out his cock, it’s … not inviting.

  I gasp when he tugs my lingerie to the side, cold washing over my slit. “You’re very hasty.” I hope he doesn’t notice the shakiness in my voice as he leans over me, the smell of heavy cologne choking me. It only makes me feel more trapped. Alone. Like a used mannequin. “I thought French men knew how to charm a girl.”

  He laughs. “I am about to charm your—”

  “‘Sup ‘Cuz." Damien’s voice brings Remy’s body to a rigid standstill. My eyes close in relief. "Something tells me you couldn’t charm a pigeon.”

  Remy's eyes move to the end table. He reaches for his gun but I reach for it first. It's cold and heavy in my hand, Remy glaring at me.

  “Careful, girl,” he warns.

  I don’t know what the fuck to do, so I point it at his head.

  Damien chuckles. “Might want to think about that before she blows your head off. She’s crazier than she looks.”

  My hand shakes when I cock the gun like I’m some sort of murderer. But I don’t wanna die. Not here. Not on this yacht. Not in this.

  Not without him.

  Damien’s right. Clearly, I can
be as monstrous as they are.

  Remy chuckles, flopping back in his seat as he stuffs his cock into his pants. “So this is it, yes? You are here to kill me too?”

  Damien walks over to the bar, getting himself a drink and raising the music. Then with that drink, he moves over to sit on the stage while I keep the gun pointed at Remy. It's hard to keep it steady with how shaky my arms are.

  “I’m here to make you a deal." Damien leans forward. "One we should’ve made a long time ago … had I known you existed.”

  “What makes you think I’ll make a deal with you? Your friend killed my mother. As far as I know, we have nothing to discuss.”

  “He didn’t kill her. I did.”

  The cloud of tension fills the room and everything seems to stop. They stare into each other's eyes like a contest. Then Remy lunges for Damien.

  Damien doesn’t even flinch as I push the gun further into Remy’s skull and that settles him down, his hands in the air.

  “Good boy.” Damien winks. “Besides, something tells me if you weren’t interested you would’ve killed us already. So, cut the shit, pull your strings and get my brother off trial. As a reward, I’ll let you in on what your mother was after. A piece of my company.”

  He stalls, his body relaxing like Damien's saying the magic words. “Why give me the company and not her? It is all she wanted.”

  “Simple.” Damien shrugs, bringing the drink to his lips. “You’re not her. Like I said, if you were her, I wouldn’t be sitting here. So …” Damien stalls, looking at the glass like he’s drinking vomit. But he takes another sip anyway, having a casual fucking drink while I'm having a heart attack. “What’ll it be?”

  “I do not make deals with you. I do not trust you or your family.” He cuts me a side-eye like I’m part of this fucked up family.

  “Suit yourself. Thought you’d be a good fit for the mansion in Eden. Guess I was wrong.” Damien starts moving to the bathroom and I glance between them.

  Do I get up? Do I move the gun from his head?

  If I move the gun, will I die?

  Is he leaving me?

  My hands tighten around the gun, my finger on the trigger as Damien gets closer to the bathroom.

  “Wait,” Remy calls. “Let’s talk cousin.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Isaac

  This is it.

  My last time in an Armani suit.

  My last time in suede loafers.

  My last moments of freedom.

  As far as I know, this trial is going to hell.

  My lawyer gives me the same look the jury does as the opposing lawyer rests their round of questioning.

  Stacy from the dance team clears the stand after telling the entire courtroom about the incident in the hallway with Lexi. Sure, she said she doesn’t think I murdered someone but after a story of coke-infused rage, it's a hard sell.

  Marion’s family’s lawyers did their research. A ton of it.

  I’m going down.

  The judge looks over at us, lowering his glasses with a stern jaw before he swings his gaze over to the plaintiff. He already hates me after the many objections I yelled or the fact that I’m not sober. No way was I coming to my trial without a boost. If I'm going out, I'm gonna be high as a kite when I do.

  “Do you have anyone else you'd like to take the stand?” The judge asks the opposing attorney.

  I'm in my own law drama and this is a lot less fun than TV makes it out to be.

  “We don’t,” she responds.

  He asks Alexander the same question. He looks around the stuffy wooden courtroom, scrambling for an angle, but I’m sure he sees what I see.

  We have nothing.

  My head hangs.

  His shoulders drop. “Your Honour, I—”

  “Yes, he does.” A familiar voice booms through the courtroom, all heads turning toward the door. “Nice. I’ve always wanted to stop a trial.”

  Damien walks in with that swagger he always has like he has all the time in the world. Like the judge isn’t about to throw me in jail and toss away the keys.

  "What is this?" The judge calls. "Bailiff!"

  “You'll want to wait on that.” King holds the door open like he’s preparing for the arrival of the Queen. “Remy Roy is here. Son of Marion Roy. That’s the murder in question, right?”

  My grip tightens on my chair before I push to my feet.

  The fuck?

  The crowd erupts into murmurs and whispers as the judge pounds his gavel for order. A tall slender man in a shapeless suit walks through the door. I don’t recognize him but my heart thuds. He looks like her. Long, stoic face. Thick dark hair. Gray eyes.

  Didn’t know Marion had a son but considering she was twice my age, I’m not surprised. Remy locks eyes with me before he smirks and I glance back at Damien. When I do, Lexi appears beside him in that same black outfit she wore when I last saw her.

  Where the fuck has she been?

  I've been keeping my distance but I still had eyes on her. When I couldn’t find her, I figured she was avoiding me.

  She smiles my way, a weak one, but I can’t return it. I’m too busy trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

  As the courtroom settles, the judge narrows his eyes as he scans the weird trio that walked in. Glancing at Perez sitting in the rows behind us, he shrugs.

  The other lawyer shouts. “You can’t just—”

  “I’ll … allow it.” The judge cuts off his words, curling his finger to call Remy to the stand. “Mister Roy. Please.” He gestures to the wooden box beside him.

  Looking back at Lexi, she sports her brownish golden hair but those eyes look tired. Somehow though, she looks more composed than ever. And now I don't know whether I should be grateful … or afraid.

  Did she convince King to do something? Is she about to make sure she ruins my life for good?

  “Do you know this guy?” My lawyer leans in, rummaging through papers. He's frantic. Nervous. “Did you know she had a son?”

  “No fucking clue,” I mutter back, watching Remy saunter to the podium.

  He’s sworn in and he takes a seat as my lawyer rises. “Mister Roy … please state to the court your relation to the deceased.”

  “I’m Marion Roy’s son,” he replies. “The only.”

  I can’t figure out what he wants, or why he's here. So my only option is to listen … and squirm in my fucking seat.

  “And where were you the night of—”

  “Listen,” Remy holds up a hand. “I do not want to be here all day, the courtrooms …” He looks around. “Depresses me.” Then he stands to his feet. “Isaac Johnson is an unforgivable bastard but he didn’t do it. I should know, I'm the one who put this together." He leans closer to the judge. “Can we drop this case?"

  The room erupts in whispers as my lawyer presses. “Do you have proof of this?” The judge asks.

  “Outside of my mother being a power-hungry bitch who bartered her own son’s future for money? Yes, I do.” He gestures to King who pulls out a manila envelope. “I can prove it was a suicide.”

  "Objection!" The other lawyer protests. “Your Honour, this evidence needs to be cleared by the court before it reaches the jury.”

  “Mister Mendez, please bring that envelope forward.” The courtroom sits on pins and needles as he looks over the documents and whatever it is, I hope it's enough.

  After a few moments of agonizing silence, the judge throws his glasses down. Leaning back in his seat, he rubs his temples. “This won’t work. This can’t even reach the jury.” A smile pulls at Alexander's face but he tries to keep his composure. My brows knit, body stiff in my seat. Is he saying what I think he is? “Based on what I’m seeing here and the turn of events, this case is dismissed until new evidence can be brought forward on why this wasn’t a suicide.”

  Remy turns towards me and smiles.

  My brows furrow, heart pounding against my chest as the judge’s words muffle.

  Did … di
d that just fucking happen?

  “Your Honour!” The other lawyer protests. “We have the evidence! This man, this monster …” He turns his attention to the jury. “He's killed once and he did it again with the school counsellor. There’s no explanation to that.”

  The judge hovers the gavel above its round wooden landing.

  Fuck.

  “There is an explanation. I can explain.”

  Lexi’s voice pierces through my chest and now I’m on my feet again.

  “No," I speak up, turning to her. "She can’t.”

  Her head whips to me, those eyes filled with determination. “Will you just—”

  “No!” I won’t let her do it. I want to hop over the wooden gate and put my hand over her mouth.

  She's fucking insane.

  “You can’t keep telling me what to—”

  “Lyon,” I warn. "You don't have to do this."

  But she’s too fucking stubborn to care, turning to the judge. “I did it. I’m the reason Drake—I mean, Doctor Donovan is dead. He’s not missing. I know exactly where he is and I’m the one who killed him.”

  More chatter erupts, the courtroom abuzz as my lawyer whips his head to me then her.

  The judge bangs the gavel. “Justin,” he calls his bailiff, gesturing towards Lexi.

  As he approaches her, my head whirls. “Wait! No, I can—”

  My lawyer’s hand comes to my chest. “Don’t fuck this up, kid. We’ll deal with it. Let her go.”

  And that’s when I realize he’s asking me to do the one thing I can’t.

  The one thing I won’t.

  “Lexi Lyon.”

  The man that got me off trial approaches as I light the jay King handed me on my way out.

  Remy Roy.

  I only got as far as the courtroom’s back steps before I pulled out this joint like I didn’t just get away with murder. Paparazzi swarm the front and it’s not long before they find me. So I’m squeezing a session in when I can.

  With Remy coming my way, I’m happy I have it. I don’t need any more drama. There's no time for it.

  Lexi saved my life. I need to focus on saving hers.