Wrecked: A Novel (Charming Knights Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Mmm,” I moaned, turned on by his care for me. “But I want you to hurt me. That shot of pain is always followed by so much good.” I rubbed his body, his chest, his arms, feeling his tense muscles through his shirt.

  He growled suddenly and grabbed both my wrists, pinning them above my head. He leaned over me, his royal blue eyes glaring into mine. “I hated myself for hurting you, Hallie. I hated myself for not caring I was hurting you. I hated myself for wanting to go again right after even though I could feel you wince when I pulled out of you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I thought that was the whole point of this. A little help would be nice.” His heavy breaths burned my lips. “Don’t you hate me? I just told you that we’re married and you’re trying to sleep with me? You should hate me too.”

  Whatever you do, don’t hump his leg. “I don’t think I can hate you. This isn’t your fault. You just played cards in a game you didn’t start. You can hate yourself all you want, even though I don’t want that for you. Stop trying to push me away.” I tried to free my wrists.

  He let me go after a second, keeping his hands by my head.

  “Kiss me, Cage.”

  He kissed me so hard and for so long my belly was hot with need.

  “Can I give you a ring?” he asked, breathless on top of me. “I mean… you deserve—Fuck it, Hallie. I want a ring on your finger so everybody in the entire world knows your mine. For me. Not for you. I’m buying you the biggest damn diamond I can find and you’re going to wear it everywhere you go. Do you hear me?”

  He was part terrifying and part pure panty-melting sexy. “Yes, Cagey.”

  “That’s not going to work as a nickname.”

  “Too bad. I like it.”

  He tried to blink his exhaustion away, but the yawn that followed was enough to take us both under. He settled on his side with me curled against his chest.

  “I love you, Cagey.”

  He tried to fight, tried to keep his walls. But they were gone now, and all he could do was sigh and hold me tighter.

  “I’ve only loved you, my little star.”

  ***

  I woke up twisted in my sheets. Alone.

  But his shoes were still on the floor when I emerged from the bathroom after brushing my teeth and cleaning myself up. I switched my sweats for a pair of black skinny jeans. I put a bra on and threw on a dark gray cashmere sweater. I ran my hairbrush through my hair and gave my reflection a soft knowing smile before closing my bedroom door behind me and heading downstairs.

  “When Illa’s sipping rum in Jamaica, she’ll owe every second of happiness to you.”

  I froze in the hall. Behind me, my father’s presence instantly overwhelmed me. I’d avoided him even better than I had Cage. I saw Wreck everywhere I went, but I forgot my father everywhere I wasn’t. He had never been mine. But he felt so far from me in that moment I could hardly believe I lasted eighteen years in his coldness.

  It was time to play his game. I turned and appraised him with the same empty eyes he’d given me my entire life. “And when I’m signing my name from now on I’ll have you to thank for making me a Wreckmond.”

  He gave me an expressionless nod. “You will. You’re richer than the entire population now. College to appease my board of directors and then you’ll be my COO. My business partner. And you’ll be my most trust worthiest one. After all, what father can’t trust his daughter?” He patted my shoulder, lackluster in his congratulations, and his threat.

  He knew I loved Cage.

  He knew he had a forever threat.

  “Did you ever really love me, Dad?”

  He turned down the hall toward my parent’s bedroom.

  “Yes, Hallie.” He spoke with his back to me, walking down the hall as his words trailed after him. “I paid good money for you. Keep your investments close and your heart separate, honey. Don’t want your heart stabbing you in the back one day.”

  There was so much finality in his movements. The lack of attention placed on his hurtful words, as if he himself knew I wasn’t his anymore. And if I wasn’t his, then whose was I?

  I knew enough about this life to know that I wasn’t my own.

  Illa was flipping French toast on the stove when I came in. Wreck was already eating, his jaw working through his food as his eyes stared emptily at his plate. I never noticed how alone he looked without anyone around. Illa didn’t seem to be interested in interacting with him. He cut his food and put it in his mouth, and not once did he look like he enjoyed it.

  It broke my heart. The emptiness inside of him came from a lot of places. He either needed a downpour of love, or a chance to heal without the downpour of our responsibilities.

  I studied Illa’s back, familiar curves in her uniform, same stance I knew so well as she cooked. I examined the side of Wreck’s face. His handsome profile, the outline of his nose and stubble covered jaw made his full lips softer. She was my heart. Cage stole it. I wanted to give one the life she deserved, and I wanted to show the other the love he distrusted. But I was just me.

  Hallie Goodford.

  Scratch that.

  Hallie Wreckmond.

  I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

  “Smells good.” I shook off the chills traveling down my spine.

  Both looked over. Illa smiled sweetly, her eyes shining. Cage didn’t smile, but his eyes did.

  “Morning, baby doll. I’d ask where you been these days, but something tells me it has to do with Mr. Healthy Appetite.” She nodded at Wreck with a knowing smile. When I hugged her, her lips whispered in my ear. “You have to dish.”

  “Dish? Illa, seriously. Where are you getting your slang? Lettie?”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Brioche French toast with fried eggs and turkey bacon.” She opened the microwave to reveal a Moore Beans paper cup. But I knew what was really inside. “Organic fair trade for you, my princess.” She set it down on the bar next to Wreck.

  I brought the cup to my lips. My toes curled, and I moaned—I’d been doing that a lot in the past twenty-four-hours. Illa’s homemade hot chocolate was sinful. Rich deep and full of fat and empty calories. I loved it.

  “Thirds?” I heard Illa ask, lost in my chocolate bubble. My heart ached. I loved her so much I didn’t know how I would let her go. Graduation was less than seven months away.

  “Please,” Wreck answered.

  “He’s just being nice, Illa. He doesn’t actually care about eating.”

  “I don’t?”

  I shook my head. “I noticed that about you. You eat to live, but you don’t taste anything.”

  He smiled privately, his hair wayward and mussed. It was so obvious what we did last night. Sleeping over, no shoes, his shirt rumbled, like it spent more time on the floor than it did on him. I didn’t know if it was having sex with him or the secrets, but I no longer felt like a child in a loveless house. I felt like a woman stretching her arms in her inevitable future.

  “There’s a few things I enjoy tasting,” he purred, making my face burn.

  Illa turned around with a scowl etched on her face. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Listen, Mr. Wreckmond. I’m not as easygoing as the Goodford’s are. I don’t think you’re cute and I don’t condone obviously filthy jokes at my baby doll’s expense. I trust her judgement, so I know there’s a gentleman inside of you, and I expect to see him and only him when he’s eating my French toast. Do I make myself clear?”

  My jaw dropped. I’d never heard anyone talk to him that way except for maybe me. I didn’t fear him, though, and apparently, neither did Illa. That was interesting. Either she knew he’d never burn her, or she trusted my choices enough to know I’d never pick a man who would.

  His brows rose, and his smile became self-effacing. On the edge of his smile there was a spark of appreciation. “You’re right. I apologize, Illa. Hallie deserves respect.”

  “Damn right she does.” She stared at him for a long uncomfortable minute. He held her gaze bravely, like they were sho
wing each other things I wasn’t allowed to see. Finally, she nodded, pleased. “You’re hashtag #babecertified.”

  I gawked at her.

  Wreck laughed. “Hashtag #messyhairdontcare.”

  “Hashtag #saveme. Stay off social media, please, Illa, before I have to dig you out of another politically fueled Facebook war.”

  She waved my order away and set down breakfast. To save myself further embarrassment, I shoved my face.

  Father came in like a storm. “Egg white omelet, Illa, in my office in less than fifteen.”

  “We have brunch, Ben.” Mother followed, body practically bare in a peach colored bikini that looked maddeningly familiar.

  “Is that mine?”

  She glanced over at me, like oh, hey, didn’t see you there emotionally dependent human. “Is what yours?”

  “That bikini.” I pointed at her as father made himself a cup of coffee, Cage looked like Wreck, and Illa separated egg whites. “It’s mine.”

  “Brunch with who?” My father grumbled. “Not the Lowell’s again. The daughter’s a twit.”

  “Why are you wearing my clothes?”

  “Joseph invited us. The Spinoza’s are staying at the Charm Loft while their property is built. Owen wants us to play nice.”

  Wreck’s jaw twitched.

  I felt like I was in the middle of the world’s worst soap opera.

  Father turned, his handsome face impassive, but where there should be the same in his eyes, there was a glint of something dark. “We wouldn’t want to upset my oldest friend, would we, honey?” He kissed Mother’s cheek and whispered something in her ear. Straightening, he offered Wreck a fake business smile, the kind that looked good, but never touched his eyes. “Morning, Cage. You’ll both be at brunch, won’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Wreck said, tone as artificially charming as Dad’s.

  “Splendid.” He patted Wreck’s back. “When’s the next game? The Knights are undefeated this year.”

  “Tuesday.”

  “I’ll be there. There’s talk that NFL scouts have their eye on the captain. That’s an awfully amazing accomplishment. Joseph must be so proud of his son and his hobby.”

  Hobby. I knew my father well enough to know a threat when I heard one. Beside me, Wreck’s hand formed a fist on his lap. He heard it too.

  But he forced a smile anyway. My knight was always prepared for battle. “What father wouldn’t be?”

  “Why do you mind?” My mother spoke up, pinning me with a glare so evil it was the first time I realized that she wasn’t in fact my mother. She didn’t birth me, carry me, or create me. She married my father. “It’s not like you can wear it right anyway. You can’t even fill out the top. It’s a waste on a body like yours.” She rushed past me.

  “What a cunt,” Wreck ground out. “She resents you because she wants to be you, that’s all, Hals.”

  My flesh was emblazoned. Ila’s jaw was set, which was dangerous—she had a hard time keeping her mind to herself. She was already in danger. My father stared after my mother with his lips twisted in disgust. I didn’t think he cared about her comment, but more about the fact that she’d lapsed out of character. Pretense everyone!

  “Dad?” My lips took control of my mouth.

  “Hmm?” His eyes left the doorway Mom disappeared through and landed on me.

  “Please tell me my real mother isn’t a superficial hateful money hungry piece of trash like that one.”

  He surprised me by chuckling, taking a sip of his coffee as he headed out of the kitchen. When he’d left, I’d had enough of my family. “I hope your dad marries her, so she becomes your problem.”

  Wreck gasped indignantly. “That’s the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He pushed away from the bar and leaned down. “Your body is fucking life altering. If you ever let your mother, or anyone, make you doubt that again, I’ll have to spend hours reminding you. With no release,” he added, when I inclined my head in consideration. “Tell me your body is fucking life altering.”

  Illa was studiously wiping down the stove.

  “My body is life-altering,” I whispered.

  “My good little star.” He gathered my hair in his fist and tugged, exposing my lips for him to kiss. “I need to stop at my place to change. Take your time eating, I’ll run upstairs, get my shoes, and then I’ll come back and pick you up. Is that good for you?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “Now tell me you love me.”

  “I love you, Cage.”

  He kissed me deeply for too shortly. He released my hair and smoothed it down over my skull, placing a sweet kiss where he’d grabbed, before taking off.

  When I checked on Illa, she had her hand on her hip and she was both desperate for answers and eager to punish.

  “What in hell is going on there?”

  I put my face in my hands. “Oh, Illa. The most amazing, terrifying, maddening, sexiest things of my life.”

  She settled down beside me and grinned. “Dish it.”

  I didn’t even mind her horrible attempt at slang. I opened my mouth and spewed everything I could. But I kept her out of the story, because Illa would never allow the truth to hurt me.

  She’d sacrifice herself. I wouldn’t let that happen.

  ***

  The Spinoza’s were unbelievably attractive.

  Even the father, who had to be in his fifties, made me do a double-take. Skin like lightly cooked caramel, smooth and sweet. Eyes the color of polished onyx and similar hair. His smile made me want to smile. His laugh made me want to laugh. He was a dangerous man. Handsome and charming—those were lethal combinations.

  His wife, Esmie, was opposite of him. Skin the color of deep chocolate, hair the color of caramel, and eyes that were green like stone.

  The combination had created one of the most stunning women I had ever seen. Lara Spinoza. Skin like toffee, rich and flawless. Black hair in a gorgeous curtain framing her face. Eyes like her father’s, unblemished shimmering onyx. I envied her everything, something I never did. Perfect breasts, full and perky. A body that was all curves. Even her accent, with just a hint of Latin, was unfairly sexy.

  “I think I might be gay,” I whispered, grasping Wreck’s hand tightly.

  “She’s going to ruin Rip’s life,” he said simply. “Probably not a bad idea if you played nice with her.”

  I searched for Rip, finding him in a pair of black jeans and a black dress shirt with a black blazer hanging open. He was gazing at Lara like she hung the moon and blew apart his universe. To a man who wanted out of Charmant, he didn’t appear to want free of it now. He looked every part the heir. My heart dropped. I felt on the verge of tears.

  Wreck swallowed hard, gazing at his friend with narrowed knowing eyes. “Our house in Athens is big enough for four.”

  “We could be overreacting.” The backyard at the Ripford’s was stunning. Lush, green, and fabricated. The manmade crystal blue lake spanned and flowed over the edge of the canyon. There was a long stretching table on the patio deck set out with brunch items. The Spinoza’s stood in a tight circle, watching our group come in.

  Mother and Father had followed us here. I didn’t like how it felt, all of us being in the same space together. It was too indicative of the future. Not to mention there were secrets amongst us that I wasn’t supposed to know. When Mother smiled at Owen, I watched my father’s face. Most of the time my father saw one thing: money. He gave no reactions, felt even less. But in his eyes, there was a spark of something intensely painful in their light blue depths as he watched his wife.

  I wondered if the reason Father used Illa as a weapon was because he understood how effective it was to wield love like a sword.

  “I have one more secret,” Wreck whispered in my ear. “I want to say it before we sit down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re smarter than your rage.” He stood, straightening his tie. He was wearing a light gray dress shirt beneath a dark bl
ue jacket, and similarly colored slacks. His cobalt tie matched his high-top sneakers. With his hair combed back and unshaved stubble, he looked all the Globe Tonight successor and less trapped teenage heir. Cage and Wreck were at war. “Geoff,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hallie wants a tour.”

  Rip tore his gaze from Lara and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the lake, of course. You sounded incredibly inquisitive about this manmade monstrosity.”

  I held his arm as we three made our way down to the water’s edge. We left everyone else on the deck and settled on the pillars on the stone walkway overlooking the shimmering lake. Rip was on his left and I was on his right.

  “So, this is the lake.” Rip waved his hand at the water. “It’s wet and pointless. No one gets inside, but the contractor told my old man there was no way he’d build a lake into the canyon. It wasn’t possible. Suffice it to say, the second contractor didn’t argue, and my father won. Like he always does,” he added bitterly, running a hand through his black hair. “What’s this brunch about?” he asked, not an ounce of patience in his eyes. He wanted the truth.

  Not the Charmant treatment.

  “I don’t know. But I know we have to be here to watch it.” Wreck took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

  “I’m going to fucking snap, bro. I don’t want this shit. The money, the soul-sucking evilness that it comes with. You know, not everyone who’s rich is a prick? You can have it all and not be an asshole.”

  “Dad mentioned scouts.”

  “Yeah,” Rip breathed, smiling a little. “The Jets, bro. The New York Jets. They’re worried about taking me away from college, but if I’m going to end up playing in the NFL, what’s the point in waiting four years and risk an injury?”

  For some reason, Wreck’s pinky finger found mine where his hand rested on the stone between us. “Go for it. Storm and I will run plays during the summer to keep you warm.”

  “They mentioned you too. Think about it. We’d be unstoppable together. Leave this fucking place behind.”