Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  At twenty-six years old, Markus was a monster wearing the face of an angel. He was better at playing the field than me, although he had years more practice. When I turned twenty-six, maybe I’d be that good, too.

  “I still don’t know why I had to come,” I muttered, turning my dark gaze to the window.

  Markus’s black hair was a bit shorter than mine, though his eyes were just as dark, if not darker. If you stared into his black, soulless eyes too long, you were liable to lose your sanity. He had a way with people.

  He also looked a lot better in a suit than I did, but that was just me being whiny and awkward in my own fancy clothes.

  “Because Travis is out of town on a job,” Markus hissed, shooting daggers with his eyes as we pulled up to the front gate. He hit the button to roll down his window, flashing his ID to the guard in the small guard station, who then nodded and hit a button to open the gate. Once the window was back up and no one else would hear him, he added, “And because you need to learn some responsibility.”

  My hands clenched on my lap. He always knew the things to say to irritate me to no end. “I have plenty already.”

  “Do you?” Markus shot back, rolling his car beside the others in the lawn. He put the vehicle into park and took out the keys, glancing at me. It looked like we were late to the party, but that’s how we always were—that way everyone could see us as we strolled in. No one would ignore the Scotts. “Because as far as I can tell, the only thing you seem to do is sit in your room and watch the days go by.”

  We got out of his car, and the cool air whipped my face the moment I stood straight. We wore no jackets over our suits, but Markus seemed to be fine. I was fine too, but that was mostly because I was trying not to let his words get to me.

  I didn’t just watch the days go by. I…I did homework, and stuff.

  It wasn’t like I had to try too hard, because my life after Midpark High was already set in stone. I’d decided it was pointless to go to college—some of us did, some of us didn’t. I was literally just waiting until the day I became one of the family’s many instruments of vengeance and retribution.

  Life was…boring now, what could I say? Although, it had gotten a little less boring with Jaz’s random addition—she still sat with me at lunch, made no moves to try to get closer to me, nor did she look at me like an outcast. The female population of Midpark fell on either side of the line, but she fell on neither. She was an outlier, someone I still couldn’t peg.

  I thought about her more often than I should, probably, but I kept her to myself. The last thing I wanted was for my family to find out that a girl had wormed her way into my head. We’d lost some brothers due to shifting loyalties; my family would not lose me, too.

  “So you slap me in a suit and bring me here,” I muttered, frowning as I stared up at the mansion we approached. A bellboy stood at the door, and as we neared the giant front door, he opened it for us, ushering Markus and me inside.

  “In life, you will be forced to do many things you don’t want to,” Markus said, turning his dark eyes to me.

  An older woman wearing all black brought us to the great hall in the back of the house, where everyone else was, already seated and eating. Numerous waiters frolicked about, rushing between tables for refills and second helpings. We were shown to our table, but we did not sit down. Markus went straight to Ollie, who stood off to the side, a tall glass in his hand as he spoke to some other people.

  I wanted to leave, but since I couldn’t, I was slow to sit. The placemat before me was empty of food, but I knew that the moment I sat down it would change.

  Someone came and poured me some water; someone else came and gave me a small salad bowl. I, meanwhile, wasn’t hungry for any of this shit.

  I heaved a sigh as I reached for the water and took a small sip. So many people all around, the noise level in the large room was almost too much. Everyone chatted away happily, and I had to stop myself from frowning. Markus and I were probably the youngest people here. Everyone else was at least fifty—excluding the busboys and the waiters.

  An older man from a nearby table got up, bringing over his wineglass as he sat himself in the empty chair beside me, giving me a once-over. “Well, well. From over there,” the man spoke, frowning slightly, wrinkles around his green eyes, “I thought you were Travis.” He downed the rest of the red wine in his glass, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly.

  I wasn’t sure how he thought I was Travis. The tattoos, maybe—but he didn’t have any on his knuckles or his hands. Besides the dark hair, we were different. Different eyes, different expressions…different levels of tolerance for stupidity.

  I wasn’t sure who this man was, but I imagined Travis was a better person, more able to deal with him. I, on the other hand, immediately wanted to punch this guy in the face—and I didn’t often get needlessly angry like that.

  The man wore a sleek dark blue suit, his blonde hair shorn short. “That would’ve made things too easy. If you were Travis, I could’ve strong-armed you for information about my son.”

  Saying nothing, I merely stared at the man, wishing he would get the hint and go away. Go back to his trophy wife—who looked like she was already drunk. My hand went to the table, my fingers toying with the silverware.

  A sharp knife. Sharp enough to pierce skin, but that would be murder.

  My family didn’t do public murder.

  “Can you believe that rotten son of mine disowned me?” The man went on, “As if he’ll ever amount to anything without the Salvatore name. Fucking good riddance.”

  Ah. That cleared things up. This man had to be James Salvatore, a man who’d gotten most of his wealth from driving up the price of whatever pharmaceutical his lab had created. He probably had looked better than he did right now.

  The man then shocked me by setting a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it hard. “Whatever you do, son, don’t be like my boy. Don’t let a girl come between you and your family. Blood’s thicker than water.” James Salvatore swore under his breath, pushing down on my shoulder as he stood up.

  By the time his hand left my shoulder, I was gripping the steak knife atop my napkin perhaps a bit too hard.

  Normally I played it cool, but some people just got under my skin. Or perhaps I was just a bit too on-edge tonight, not wanting to be here.

  I released the knife, slowly picking up the fork and nibbling at the salad before me. Using my peripherals, I kept an eye on Markus. Ollie had stopped talking to anyone else around him, and it was a long while before Markus met my eyes across the room. He tilted his head, and then he and Ollie started to make their way out.

  He wanted me to follow, which meant I pretty much had to.

  I stood up, moving across the giant room. As I went, I caught snippets of conversations, my ears always listening.

  “The parties aren’t quite like they used to be. Do you remember the ones Nathaniel Chambers used to throw, years ago?”

  “Whatever happened to Astrid and Celeste? You never see them around town anymore.”

  “I hear Oliver’s hitched up to his new maid. A maid—can you believe it? I bet she’s around here somewhere—”

  So many different conversations, so many different voices, all clamoring and fighting to be heard. I dutifully ignored them as I exited the ballroom. I wasn’t too far behind Markus and Oliver, but I took my time in following them, knowing it was family business.

  If it was family business, I had to be involved, too. It’s why Markus didn’t come alone.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, watching them round a corner and head up the stairwell. I might’ve gotten a little sidetracked, finding myself in the kitchen and then the living room, studying the place as if it held the answers.

  It didn’t.

  Just more mysteries to most of the Midpark townsfolk.

  When I reached the base of the stairs, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a long, silent sigh before heading up. I was excited to get out of Midpark High and be
fully immersed in the family business, but this wasn’t the kind of business I’d be balls-deep in. I wasn’t a suit-wearing guy.

  Granted, you did what the family asked of you when it asked it of you, and if you couldn’t adapt, the family took care of you. If you couldn’t contribute to the family’s wealth, you were no longer a useful resource.

  I was silent as I went up the stairs, about to head down the hall on the second floor—they couldn’t have gone too far.

  But then I stopped. Then my eyes focused on someone else standing in the hallway, near an open door as if she was eavesdropping. And—strangely—she held onto a small knife.

  Jaz.

  What in the world was she doing here?

  Her head was turned toward me, her ear practically on the wall near the door, which I assumed was where Oliver and Markus were. Jaz’s eyes widened when she saw me, and she opened her mouth but didn’t say a thing. Probably because if she did, it would’ve alerted the two inside the room that she was sneaking around, listening to things she probably shouldn’t.

  The last thing I expected to see was her, especially here, so I found I could not do a thing, even as she stepped back and shut herself in an adjacent room, hiding from sight. I couldn’t go to her without Oliver and Markus seeing me pass, so that was out.

  Still, what the hell was she doing here?

  I moved to the open door, practically interrupting Markus and Oliver, who were already in deep conversation. I didn’t fully go in the room though, folding my arms over my chest and leaning on the door frame, acting as a bodyguard of sorts. An enforcer. Backup for Markus, not that he needed backup.

  Oliver trailed off, his tired, weary blue gaze landing on me. “What…”

  Markus tossed me a glare, as if he’d known I’d purposefully followed them slowly. “Oliver, this is Vaughn, one of my brothers.” He returned his glare to Oliver, saying, “You won’t always be dealing with me, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  They stood in what looked like an office, built-in bookcases on either wall, tall windows behind the grand mahogany desk. Oliver stood near the leather chair behind it, Markus on its other side. He was smart to put something between him and Markus, not so smart to trap himself inside the room.

  Oliver closed his eyes, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. “I’ve done everything you asked of me, given all that I could—”

  “And yet the family demands more,” Markus said, cocking his head with a glower. One hand rested in his pants’ pocket, the other—the one with the watch—tapped the edge of the desk slowly. “Or have you forgotten what we’ve done for you? Without us, there would be no more Oliver Fitzpatrick. You’d be in prison, your name ruined.”

  “I’m well aware of how you’ve…helped me,” Oliver spoke, begrudging in admitting that we’d helped him.

  “The first time, we gave you leniency because you took Lorelei,” Markus said, scowl deepening. He was a man that could truly look frightening, even when he wasn’t trying to be. The way his body filled his suit, he was a muscular giant, towering over most. He had the intimidating presence nailed. “But don’t forget that you chose to come to us again when the twins proved they were too much for you to handle.”

  The twins—I remembered the pictures downstairs. The twins were long gone now, though I found it hard to put my mind to the matter at hand, knowing Jaz was here.

  Why was she here? What the hell was she doing here, sneaking around? And then, almost ridiculously slowly, I realized: did she live here? Was she related to Oliver? Was that why she was so curious about Celeste and her mother?

  Oliver’s shoulders fell, and he moved to sit in his chair, looking oddly small. “I did my best with them, I really did.” His face appeared pained. “I thought…I thought it was just a momentary slip-up.”

  “It was a slip-up because they weren’t trained. If you would’ve allowed us to train them as we do every other child in the family, Lorelei would never have died,” Markus told him, slow to sit in one of the chairs facing his desk. “You would’ve had no need for a second wife if that was the case.”

  “Every man needs happiness,” Oliver spoke, as if he was making excuses for himself, why he had to go and remarry Astrid Chambers, thereby cementing himself as the stepfather to Celeste, who captivated America when she was taken all those years ago.

  Oh, yes. I knew everything that happened. Why didn’t I tell Jaz when she asked? It wasn’t my place to. If she really wanted to know, she’d find out on her own.

  Markus smiled—a cold, cruel, almost calculating grin, one that flashed his teeth and showed just a hint of the beast lurking within. “Not every man, Oliver.” The smile fell off his face in an instant. “You know why I’m here.”

  Oliver let out a sigh. He opened one of his desk’s drawers, pulling out a checkbook. “I just sent in my last payment two weeks ago. How much do I need to give you to call your family off? It’s been years.”

  “I’m not here for another check,” Markus stated, leaning back in his chair, lifting his arms and resting them on the wooden armrests. “I’m simply here to remind you that someday the family will call upon you, and when it does, you must answer.”

  The lawyer knew better than to ask what would happen if he didn’t.

  Markus studied Oliver, and even though I stood behind him under the doorframe, I could imagine the look he gave him, how downright evil Markus looked right then. If anyone was a demon wearing a human mask, it was him. “Perhaps it’s not a good time to mention them, but we have located Zane and Thorn, in case you’re curious.”

  My eyes drifted away from Markus and Oliver, moving to the door down the hall where I knew Jaz was. She hadn’t come out. She was probably waiting for us all to leave. Well, wouldn’t she have a rude awakening coming once this meeting was over?

  “It took us a while to find them, but we did,” Markus was busy saying. “Do you want to know where they are?”

  Oliver still had his checkbook out. “That depends, I suppose. Are they safe? Is Celeste—”

  “Celeste Chambers is still alive, although I doubt she still goes by that name,” Markus said. He crossed his legs, looking at home, even though he was currently intimidating the shit out of Oliver Fitzpatrick. “Zane and Thorn are both alive as well. They’re resourceful; I’ll give them that. Must have something to do with the blood that runs through their veins…obviously from their mother’s side. No way they got it from you.”

  Zane and Thorn were, in a roundabout way, a part of the family. Even though the family had tossed Lorelei out because she refused to play her role in our legacy—years ago, back when Markus was still a child and I was not even a thought in my mother’s head—and the family always watched their own. It should come as no surprise to Oliver that Markus had found them.

  Oliver took the insult with a wince. “No, I’d…that’s okay. I don’t need to know where they are.”

  “If you ever change your mind, you know how to reach me,” Markus said, getting to his feet. “Never forget your debt to us, Oliver.” Straightening out his suit jacket, he turned and walked past me, turning in the hall and heading toward the stairwell. He went down without a glance behind him.

  The man in the chair looked uneasy. I could tell Oliver didn’t enjoy dealing with us, and I couldn’t blame him. We were an intense family all around, though he really should’ve been used to it from his previous wife and his sons. Anyone who had Scott blood never did things half-heartedly.

  I met Oliver’s eyes, gave him a smirk, and then reached for the doorknob, pulling the door shut behind me. It would’ve been smart to follow Markus, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t. Not when I knew Jaz was just down the hall, trying to hide.

  My ears heard no sounds in the office, which meant Oliver hadn’t gotten up yet, so I allowed myself the respite: I walked to the door I saw Jaz disappear into, quietly entering and closing the door behind me, locking both her and I in the room.

  It was another office—this one a woman’s, if t
he more feminine and smaller furniture meant anything. An urn sat on the right side of the desk, and Jaz stood near it, having set down her small knife to peer inside it.

  Huh. Must’ve been quieter than I thought, because she didn’t notice me. She was too busy studying the urn.

  “Find something interesting?” I asked her, less than a foot behind her.

  Jaz nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling on me with a look of fright in her eyes. During the turn, she knocked her hand against the urn, causing it to wobble. It would’ve fallen to the floor, but I was able to move closer and catch it before it tumbled…and pretty much pin her to the desk while doing so.

  My hand rested on top of the urn, and my eyes flicked to the silver engraving on its lid. Lorelei Fitzpatrick, Oliver’s old wife, whom he kept locked away in here. I was slow to return my gaze to Jaz, to note the pink rising in her tanned cheeks.

  We did stand awfully close, I supposed.

  I released the urn once I was sure it would not fall and took a step away from her, giving her room to breathe. Just enough, anyway. I was still probably too close to her. Closer than I should be, given how much she’d been on my mind recently.

  It was funny—I wasn’t the kind of guy who lost himself in thoughts of girls or what wonders their bodies held. I couldn’t care less. Most everyone at Midpark was annoying, mildly aggravating at best…but Jaz was something else.

  And now I knew why.

  Looking at her in her dark leggings, her black shirt…I knew it right then. She didn’t belong here.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Jaz whispered. Her dark eyes glanced at the urn, and she was slow to swallow. “Thanks for catching that, though.”

  All I did was smile, even if that smile felt a little hollow. Most everything did in life, lately—although her addition did shake things up a bit. I watched as the pink color in her cheeks slowly faded, gone the moment she stared up at me defiantly, fiercer than any wildcat.