I bounce the ball a few times before answering. “Other than the fact that she’s suffocating me?”
“I didn’t hear you complain about her letting you fuck her six ways from Sunday before Charlotte showed up back here in Ridgeview.”
I press my lips together. “Charlotte doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Yeah? Because I’d be really shocked to know that you would go running back to a girl who screwed some other dude and then blew you off. Are you really that guy, Xander?” Chase asks me with a self-satisfied smirk.
He thinks he’s got one over on me.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
My spine stiffens. I know what I told them, but it aggravates the hell out of me that they’re using my own lie against me. It was the easiest way to explain why Char and I fizzled, but I don’t like the implication he’s making. Or the thinly veiled threat to my authority, for that matter.
Not that it was a complete lie.
She did choose another guy over me.
She just didn’t fuck him.
It was more like him fucking me than anything else.
I walk toward him, my shoulders squared. “I think you know better than anyone exactly what guy I am, Chase. Because let’s face it, when push comes to shove and shit goes sideways, who are you gonna want in your corner? A dickhead like Blaine Montrose who needs Daddy to fight his battles for him, or a guy like me who wins the fucking battles?” I struggle to keep my voice steady even though blood bubbles under my skin.
“Well, that’s the thing, Xander. I’m not convinced you’ve won any battles. I keep hearing about them, but I haven’t seen a goddamn thing. I’d just like to know once and for all who the hell you really are. You talk about Montrose needing Daddy, but I haven’t seen anything that tells me you’re different from him. Maybe I want to see you put your money where your mouth is. Or are you just all talk?”
I shove him backward, my eyes narrowed to slits. “You wanna do this here? Now? You need proof of my reality? You wanna see what kind of shit I’ve done? Huh?” I pull a switchblade from my pocket because you just never know.
Especially after a heated pick-up basketball game.
My friend’s face drains of all color which is saying a lot since only seconds ago he was bright red from exertion.
“Xan! Are you fucking nuts?” Asher grabs my arm…not the one carrying the blade. Smart guy.
I look at him, my lips stretched into a tight line. “Not in the mood for some show and tell today, Ash?”
“Enough!” Chase growls, pointing at me. “Your tough guy fucking goombah attitude may work on everyone else at school, but it’s all bullshit, isn’t it?” He steps closer to me. “You put yourself on a pedestal at the fucking school for what? Is it image? Or all smoke and mirrors, Xander? My father said that your dad has been trying like crazy to keep control of his businesses in the area and that shit is sinking fast. You really wanna try and convince me that he’s on top? That you’re still on top?”
I choke on my next breath. What in the hell is he talking about? And why is his father talking shit about my family? Everyone knows the Iazettis maintain control over most of the real estate in this territory. And Dad has been away a lot more because he’s doing deals to claim more of it so we can expand. I should know about the real estate we own. I collect from the people who run those businesses! They answer to me, goddammit! I clench my fists, trying to settle the rolling feeling in my gut as it twists tighter and tighter. Control. My only bit of it, and it’s seeping into the air around me without any way for me to stop it. “Where the fuck do you get off talking shit about things you can’t even come close to understanding?”
“I’m just saying there’s been talk.”
“Who’s talking?” My voice is getting to the point of shrill. I need to end this. Now.
“People are wondering about what it is that you really do, what your role really is. Whether or not you’re really the guy you’re trying to convince everyone you are.”
I grit my teeth. “My work isn’t the type of thing I can post about on social media, dick. I can’t snap you pictures and apply the pretty fucking filters of the shit I do.” I rake a hand through my hair. “And why don’t we look at you for a second? If you think I’m so full of shit, why are you behind me every time I turn around? Huh? Or is this all crap your father is feeding you because he doesn’t want his precious reputation tarnished by his son hanging out with a known thug? Is that it, Chase? Is this really what you think? Or is it all Daddy?”
Chase glares at me. “I’m not an idiot. I can see things pretty damn clearly.”
“I don’t think you can,” I hiss. “Because if you did, you’d realize that what you said has consequences. Remember how I said before that people don’t ever think about them? Well, it looks like you might be one of those dipshits, Chase.”
“Xander,” Asher starts, recoiling slightly as I turn my death glare on him.
He holds up his hands and backs away slightly. Clearly they’re not in the same thought camp. Good thing for Ash.
“Look, you’ve been pretty secretive lately and brought us in only to shove us farther away. That whole thing with Charlotte at your house,” he shakes his head. “We were only trying to do what we thought you wanted. We were trying to look out for you because of what you said she did.”
“I never asked you to do anything,” I seethe.
“We gave her a hard time, yeah. But we’re just tired of you promising shit you never deliver. Our place at school? It’s ours. Not yours. We’re not your fucking peons, as much as you may want to believe that. People at the school don’t mess with us — any of us — because of who we are and what we have together. And before Charlotte showed up, we were tight. In control. Are you still in control, Xander?”
“There is so much you don’t understand,” I grumble. “Shit that you could never handle.”
The guys exchange another look.
“This isn’t the Xander Iazetti Show anymore,” Chase mutters. “Because I’m fucking tired of being in your damn shadow. We all have a place. And if you wanna keep yours, you’d better remember that. And remember who your real friends are, the ones who’ve been here the whole time.” He stalks over to the bench and grabs a towel, wiping his face with it.
A loud blaring sound comes from my bag and I jog over to it, grabbing my phone from the pocket. My chest tightens when I see Charlotte’s name appear on the screen. Chase lifts an eyebrow at me, obviously seeing the same thing.
Fuck him. I should’ve cut him before instead of just threatening to.
I stick the phone back in my bag and fling the bag over my shoulder. “I don’t like ultimatums, Chase,” I say in a low growl. “Pull the pole out of your ass and think for yourself, not your father. You want a seat at the top? You’d better remember that consequences do matter, and you really need to start thinking about them before you ever say shit like that to me again.”
I storm over to my car and slide in, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat. I gun the motor, peel out of the parking lot, and drive about a block before pulling over to the side of the road. My heart beats harder and faster, thudding against my ribcage.
Control. It’s the only bit I had and now it hangs in the balance.
I need to get it back.
I need to get my life back.
I pull my phone out of the bag and stare at the screen for a second.
Charlotte. She’s thrown everything into a tailspin and I’ve let it happen.
I’ve seen the aftermath.
But I also know it’s not even close to over.
I stab her number into the keyboard, my pulse throbbing. “Xander?” she says, her voice weak.
I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I rasp. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great. I really…” she sighs, her voice drifting off for the briefest moment. “Xan…I really need to see you.”
And just like that, I become one of those assholes who doesn’t
consider the consequences.
Chapter 8
Charlotte
“Charlotte Hawthorne,” the receptionist offers a tightlipped smile as I look up at her from my seat in the waiting room. “Hilary is ready for you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing my purse.
Hilary. My therapist from when my life went to shit after Andrew died. I knew this was coming when my mother started acting worried and heartbroken after my accident. With my confusion and memory loss shit, I’m actually kind of relieved to be here.
I walk back to the familiar room. It still smells like sage. The office is warm and cozy — two large armchairs, a worn leather couch, tranquil black and white photographs of lakes. Everything you’d expect from a therapist’s space.
Tapping my fingertips onto the open door, I enter the small office.
Hilary’s dark curls frame her face like a lion’s mane as she turns to me. “Charlotte, it’s so nice to see you.” She ascends from her chair, giving me a warm, short hug before gesturing to the couch. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you.” Sinking into the buttery cushion, my eyes dart all around the room.
“How are you feeling?” Her soft voice cloaked in a thick South African accent calms me instantly. She has helped me so much in the past, here’s to hoping she can do it again.
I shrug, “All right, I guess.”
She grabs her leather notebook and a pen. “Is there a place you would like to start?”
I blink at her, blankly.
Is there a beginning?
How far back are we talking?
The accident?
Just before it?
How about all the way to when my parents tossed me aside and shipped me off to boarding school?
Or when Xander rejected me the first time, or the second time?
“I don’t know.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Her eyes soften as she closes her notebook. “Okay, well…how about we start with how you’re liking school. Are you happy to be back at Ridgeview Prep? How has it been adjusting to not being in London?”
Happy? No.
Confused and overwhelmed? For fucking sure!
“It’s been okay. I made a new friend. Her name is Ellie. She’s really nice. She’s even been bringing me the assignments I’ve missed while I have been out.” That seems like the most normal answer I can offer.
“That’s really good to hear. Making friends is a wonderful first step into settling back in.”
I curl my lips as I fumble with the hem of my shirt.
“I want to dive right into the accident. Are you up for that?”
I suck in a deep breath while nodding.
“Good. Now what is the last thing you remember?”
I close my eyes as I try to think back. “Xander,” I mutter as my stomach knots. “He was with Melina and I couldn’t stay.”
“Couldn’t stay where?” The low timbre of her words whisk by me.
“I had to get away from him. I remember crying and Blaine comforting me.”
“Blaine Montrose? He was the driver of the car, correct?”
I nodded.
“I don’t really remember much after that. Other than waking up in the hospital.” And Xander being there.
“Take me back to seeing Xander. Why did seeing him with someone upset you so much?”
I tug on the end of my long locks, staring at her black kitten heels. “Because we slept together. The night before.”
As the admission left my lips, I wanted to take it back. Saying it out loud made it so much more real. Now someone else knows. It can’t just be a dark little secret buried in my heart.
“Are you and Xander in a relationship?”
I cock my head to the side, locking my eyes with hers. “No. We’ve never been.”
That one hurt to say. Fuck. I am such an idiot.
“Do you want to be?”
My mouth goes dry. I have no fucking clue. I love him, but I hate the things he’s done. I hate how he keeps saying he loves me and then his actions scream a completely different reality. I love how I feel around him — how my body craves his, how comfortable I instantly am in his presence, how he knows exactly how to make me laugh.
All I can do is shrug.
“That’s fine. You don’t have to know. How about after you’re with Blaine, do you remember talking to him? Do you remember getting into his car?”
“It’s all fuzzy.” I wrack my brain. “I remember crying and him putting his arm around me. I remember seeing his car and him holding the door for me. It’s like flashes of memories though, not fluid. Does that make sense?”
I feel like a crazy person. The height of teenage drama. I got into a car with a guy because the guy I really want doesn’t want me. How fucking cliché is that bullshit?
“It does make sense. With what happened to you from your medical file, I am surprised that you have even glimmers of memories. Let’s keep going. What flash comes next?”
I soften my shoulders, rolling my head around as I try to piece it together.
“Blaine and I were talking. He made the wrong turn.” Flash after flash, like clips of a movie reel pop into my brain. “There was a loud bang and then there was a lot of glass.”
I suck in a deep breath, willing my mind to keep the movie playing in my brain.
“Can you focus on what you guys were talking about?” Hilary’s voice breaks in as memories start to flood back in.
Oh my God...
That scar.
He was there.
He was the one who found me on the road after the accident.
My body quakes and trembles uncontrollably. Adrenaline soaks my blood as my heartbeat bounds against my temples. Every nerve in me burns and buzzes as Scarface’s last words assault me.
I mutter them under my breath to myself. “There are no accidents, Charlotte. Your dead brother knows that better than anyone.”
“What?” Hilary asks, putting her hand on my knee. “Can you repeat that last statement?”
My eyes snap to hers as my jaw hangs. “I have to go,” I finally spit out, scrambling to my feet.
“We still have thirty minutes left,” She jumps up, trying to stop me from leaving her office. “I think we were making really good progress.”
My eyes sting as I yank open the door. “I have to go,” I repeat.
Running out into the parking lot, I collapse over a nearby trash can.
Where is he? I need him! He said he’d come!
Standing like an idiot in the middle of the packed parking lot, I take a few deep breaths to keep the gagging in check.
Everything starts crashing back into my mind, making it hard for me to breathe. Hyperventilating, the crash assaults my mind over and over. The hot pavement. The feeling of relief when I see the cop walking toward me. The terror that commands me when I realize that it’s Scarface. His words. Those terrible, horrible, disgusting words. Words that meant so many things in my life were a lie.
Was Andrew murdered?
How could that even be possible?
Who would have wanted to snuff out such a bright light?
He was innocent.
I’m innocent.
Why would someone want to attack me?
What did I ever do to deserve this?
I feel dizzy. My knees wobble, damn near ready to give out. I sink down onto the curb trying to catch my breath.
Finally, Xander’s ringtone starts blasting.
“Xander?” I whimper.
“I’m turning down the street now, babe.”
“Okay,” I say with a shuddering breath.
No matter what it is, Xander is the one whom I run to.
After everything, he is and will always be the one I want to play knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress.
It doesn’t take long for Xander’s Pontiac GTO Judge to barrel into the parking lot.
I yank open the passenger’s side door and dive into the seat after
Xander moves his gym bag for me.
Xander is huffing, covered in sweat.
“What’s going on?” he asks, putting the car into park.
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “I don’t know what to make of any of this.”
“Any of what?” His hand lands on mine as our eyes meet.
I furrow my brow, forcing myself to actually spit the words out. “There are no accidents, Charlotte. Your dead brother knows that better than anyone.”
“What?” Xander’s face twists, confusion shadowing his features.
My eyes grow wide as I stare at the guy who has broken my heart over and over...he’s still the guy I love more than anything. My eyes dart away, looking out the windshield at a squirrel running along a tree limb. Damn. I wish I was that squirrel, then none of this shit would be happening. I wish I had never remembered any of this crap. It’s all too much. Too much weight, too much sorrow, too much pain.
“Char, what did you just say?” Xander’s hand grips around my wrist as he shakes my arm to make me look at him again.
“The man with the scar on his face, the one who was next to my car at the beach, the one who attacked me outside of Green Cactus! Fuck, Xander! I remember him now. He was there, at the accident scene! I was lying on the pavement, barely conscious, but I was awake enough to see him come up to me wearing a policeman’s uniform. He leaned over me and said those words.” Tears sprung to my eyes. “He meant Andrew was murdered, Xan,” I whisper. “Someone killed my brother and it could have been him!”
I couldn’t believe the words that were spilling out of my mouth. How could this be happening? Why was any of this happening? How could my brother have been a target for Scarface?
Thoughts pop between my ears like bullets and my temples throb from the unexpected pressure.
Xander drops my hand, running it over his as he lets out a low growl.
“He was there?” he rumbles, knotting his fingers in his short, disheveled hair. “He spoke to you?”
“It was-s him. I’d know his-s ugly face anywhere,” I sob as my head falls into my hands.
Xander starts the car again. “I love you, Char. And if it is the last thing I do on this planet, I am going to find that sonofabitch and make him pay for ever laying a finger on you.”
Princess: Ridgeview Prep Book 2 Page 5