BITTER PRINCE | A DARK COLLEGE BULLY ROMANCE: HEIRS OF HAVOC

by Winters, Vanessa

  I tipped him on the pizza receipt and thanked him again before taking my goods inside. The bag of goodies was never-ending. It was full to bursting with all my favorite things. Curly french fries from the burger place down the road, sushi from our favorite takeout spot, and expensive-looking chocolates. I laughed and shook my head. I had a hell of a best friend. I lined up everything and took a selfie with the camera on my computer, emailing it to her with a gushy thank-you message that would make her blush.

  Then, I took everything to my couch and turned on the television. Trying to drown out the memory of my loneliness as I picked up a slice of pizza from the open cardboard box,

  * * *

  It was past midnight, and my stomach was killing me from my overindulgence of all of my favorite foods. I felt like shit, so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. To protect myself against both the cold and from attracting unwanted attention from some of the shadier people who lived in my neighborhood, I geared up in two pairs of fleece sweatpants and two bulky hoodies, pulling my hair up into a beanie before tucking it under the hood and pulling the drawstrings tight. I shoved my feet into a pair of old hiking boots that had belonged to my dad—I needed three pairs of cabin socks to make them fit—and grabbed my keys before heading to the street.

  I hoped a walk would both settle my stomach and clear my head a bit before work.

  Outside, it was silent except for the quiet clicking sound of ice hitting the ground. I hadn’t been able to tell that it was iced over from my bedroom window, but I was bundled up and already out there. So, oh well.

  I walked down the street toward Main. In the distance, I could hear an expensive engine revving and whining and rolled my eyes. The rich guys in this town were ridiculous. Their privilege extended so far, they never seemed to worry about drawing the attention of the cops. I continued on, allowing my mind to run away from me for a bit. And when I let it roam, I kept coming back to my phone buried in the dirt of Congresswoman Carlisle’s windowsill.

  I wondered what I might find when I finally had a chance to snatch my phone back up.

  What secrets did she divulge in the privacy of her office? What kind of language would I find? Possibly some sort of a bribe? Or, maybe she was having someone killed? I snickered at the thought. For one, it wouldn’t even shock me if that’s what I found. If I played that recording back and there was any talk of some sort of a hit, I wouldn’t even be surprised.

  More than that, though, I wondered if I’d catch Jude on it at all.

  Granted, that wasn’t the point of any of this. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was him. But, I couldn’t help it. Maybe I’d catch something about him on this recording. His voice, or some mention of him that might shed some light onto why he was treating me the way he was. Maybe he was being manipulated into it. Or, maybe someone was blackmailing him. Something… anything to tell me that he wasn’t treating me this way simply because he wanted to.

  Stop looking for hope. He’s not yours, and never will be.

  I pushed all thoughts aside as the wind kicked up. I felt the small pellets of ice battering against my face and I quickly turned around. I gazed down the road and couldn’t even see my place, and it shocked me just how far I’d walked before I snapped out of my trance. I heard cars racing in the distance, their engines revving and their tires squealing around corners. I shook my head as I put one foot in front of the other, slowly making my way back to my bedroom.

  And even though my stomach felt a bit better, my soul didn’t.

  My heart and my soul ached just as much as when I had left.

  10

  Jude

  Lunch with Lila had been great. Just what I’d needed, actually. We had done exactly as I’d said, dressing up in our finest duds and heading to the swanky Seashell on the harbor. We had ordered a table full of the most expensive things they had on the menu and two bottles of Dom, along with a number of single drinks to complement the food. At the suggestion of the waiter, of course. And after finishing, we took the rest of the champagne and poured it out at the pier, telling our favorite stories about Dad.

  It had been freezing fucking cold, but the alcohol and memories kept us warm. We stumbled down the pier, arms around each other, belting out Dad’s old favorite Clapton song Layla,’ that he used to sing. And always—always—substituting Layla for ‘Lila.’

  “LILA!” I cried out.

  My sister hiccupped. “You got me something something!”

  “LILA!” I screamed.

  She hiccupped again. “I’m begging, something, knees!”

  Collapsing with laughter at our terrible voices, we sank against a raggedy wooden bench at the side of the pier. We were so busy laughing and exchanging stories and trying to recall the words of those lyrics that it took us a moment to hear our names being called.

  “Are you fucking kidding me with this?” I looked up to see my ‘darling’ fiancée looking absolutely furious in front of us.

  “Marrrrgeaux!” Lila pitched forward to hug her, but Margeaux sidestepped her, letting her fall to the ground in a heap of hiccupping giggles.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Aside from her expression, Margeaux was the picture of seaside beauty. Golden hair plaited across one shoulder beneath a straw hat, ribbon fluttering charmingly in the icy wind. I mean, who the fuck wears a straw hat when it’s twenty degrees out, even if you were on the harbor?

  Plus, she had on a navy-blue seersucker dress cut short to show off bare legs.

  I snorted. “Aren’t you cold?”

  She ignored my question. “Yes. Let’s go. Daddy’s waiting in the limo.”

  “Oh shit, your dad is here?” Lila laughed as I pulled her up from the ground.

  “Yes, he’s here, you idiot,” Margeaux snapped. “We were having lunch together at Seashell when we see these two drunk people who look weirdly familiar weaving around and making a spectacle of themselves. Daddy almost had a conniption when he saw it was his future son-in-law.” She turned on her heel. “Come on. The longer he has to wait, the angrier he will be.”

  Lila and I did our best to pull ourselves together as we tripped to the limo. Mr. Abbot was waiting in the center of the row and nodded to me to take the bench seat along the side, so the girls sat on either side of him. And when his eyes drilled into me, I had the sudden urge to break his nose with my fist.

  “Partaking a little early today, are we?” Mr. Abbot was a big man with a booming voice.

  The girls looked very small bookending him. And he made no effort to shrink himself either. With his legs wide open and his beefy arms jutting out, he looked like the picture-perfect image of the exact man my father had never been.

  “It’s the anniversary of our father’s death coming up, Mr. Abbot. We don’t normally act so foolish in public.” Lila did a remarkable job of sounding sober.

  His voice softened. “Well, now, everyone grieves differently.”

  I didn’t trust the change in his voice, though. The second I watched him drop his massive, meaty, fat-ass hand down onto my twin sister’s thigh, about three inches higher than appropriate, I felt my blood raging. My eyes narrowed. My fists clenched. And even though I felt Margeaux staring at me, my eyes stayed locked with his face as he spoke again.

  “You let me know if there’s anything I can do, honey.”

  “Over my dead body,” I murmured.

  Lila squirmed a little in an attempt to dislodge his hand, but I saw Mr. Abbot’s fingers flex around her leg, holding her there. I looked at Margeaux, who was staring blankly out the window, and dug my fingers into my leg. I needed to not haul off and shatter this pervert’s teeth. After all, I was going to be marrying his damn daughter this coming summer. The last thing I needed was yet another human being making my life an absolute nightmare. Because I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before the idea of swallowing lead sounded more appealing than this shit.

  But, the look on my sister’s face prompted me to speak.
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  “Hey, Li,” I said, my voice tight. “Isn’t that where the DAR meeting is being held next week?”

  She looked out the window. “Where?”

  I reached across and grabbed her hand, pulling her over to the seat next to me. “There.”

  She caught my drift and shot me a grateful look. “Oh, yes, you’re right.”

  Mr. Abbot wasn’t fazed. “Lila, you haven’t been out to the house much lately. You and Margeaux used to have sleepovers almost every week back in the day.”

  “Things have just been so busy lately,” Lila said with a smile.

  Margeaux was still studying the streets outside the window like she was somewhere else entirely. And for a split second, I felt for her. I knew the kind of terror her father was, because while Margeaux didn’t talk about it, almost everyone else did. I knew the bruises I’d seen on her body from time to time were from him. I remembered all the nights she climbed into Lila’s room by shimmying up the decorative vines, only to cry herself to sleep after her father beat her senseless.

  And as I watched her eyes grow glassy, I almost felt sorry for her.

  Almost.

  Mr. Abbot chortled. “You think you’re busy now, wait until you’re out in the real world! And I know my little Margarita here has been beside herself with wedding planning, haven’t you?”

  Margeaux didn’t seem to hear him. He reached over and pinched her sharply on the leg, making her squeak. And that made me want to break the man’s neck.

  “I asked you a question, Margeaux.”

  “Sorry, Daddy, I didn’t hear you,” she said, rubbing the mark he’d left behind.

  “I said, haven’t you been busy with wedding planning?”

  “Yes, very busy.” She looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, I saw her without the veil of irritation and frustration that had been between us for months. She looked very young, trapped between the limo window and her father, without anyone to pull her away. He might have tolerated me removing my sister from his clutches, but Margeaux was his property. And no one was coming between them.

  I knew our marriage wouldn’t change that, either.

  Mr. Abbot’s voice pierced my thoughts. “You hear that, Lila? Margeaux’s been practically swamped, and I know you must be struggling with this anniversary coming up. Why don’t you girls have yourselves a nice sleepover again tonight? For old time’s sake. I’ll have Cecilia whip you up a buffet of treats.”

  I spoke before Lila could. “Oh, we have that donor dinner tonight, remember? Margeaux, you’re coming as my date as well. Don’t tell me you forgot about that, too. You’ve been searching for a dress for weeks for this thing.”

  Lila nodded quickly. “Right, and unfortunately, there’s no getting out of this obligation. You know how my mom is.” She smiled at Mr. Abbot before looking over at her best friend. “Margeaux, you want to get ready with me at the house? You can come in with us now. You know it’s going to take us forever to get ready, anyway, what with how much hair you’ve got on top of your head.”

  We were pulling up the front gate, finally. Margeaux looked grateful and nodded. “Is that okay with you, Daddy?”

  “You go on with your little friend, honey. Have a nice time tonight. And Lila, I hope we’ll see you soon at the house.”

  She nodded politely. “Of course. Thank you for the ride, Mr. Abbot.”

  “Bye, Daddy.” Margeaux pecked him on the cheek.

  I watched him look shamelessly at my sister’s backside as she climbed out of the limo, skirt hiking up. Ad when he caught me looking and smiled, there was no trace of shame to be seen. “Hope you’re enjoying it while it lasts, son. Those bodies are gone before you know it, and you’re left with sag and wrinkles and pantsuits.”

  “From what I’ve heard, those aren’t issues you deal with very often,” I said coolly.

  He boomed a laugh. “Nailed me! You’re right there, Jude. Without a wife at home, there’s nothing wrong with sampling fresh local wares.”

  I swallowed the urge to strangle the man. “Thanks for the ride, sir.”

  Then, I ducked out of the car before exchanging one hell for another.

  But, before he pulled away, the window rolled down. “Before long, you’ll be calling me ‘Dad,’ won’t you?”

  And as I shot him a look over my shoulder, a slimy smile crossed his face before rolling the window up and driving away.

  With his sleek limo purring down our drive.

  * * *

  Something about that line stuck with me all night long. While Lila and Margeaux got dolled up and drank champagne in my room, I put on my suit and nursed a whiskey. We made our introductions at the benefit and created the perfect, symbiotic image of a bright-eyed, polite family. And all through the interminable dinner, the stiff dancing, the money raising, and the ride home, I rolled that word around in my head.

  Call Mr. Abbot ‘Dad’? That sleazy old pervert?

  Why hadn’t I realized before now that marrying Margeaux meant not only would she become part of my family, but I’d become part of hers?

  Might as well start swallowing arsenic now.

  Margeaux’s head lolled on my shoulder. She and Lila had started taking shots in the bathroom toward the end of the night and I knew she was already drunk.

  “Margeaux,” I said.

  She groaned. “Hm?”

  “After we get married, are you going to want to spend the holidays with your dad?”

  “A course,” she mumbled. “I’m the only family he’s got.”

  “What if we moved somewhere far away?”

  She snickered. “We’re not moving.”

  Beside her, Lila let out a soft snore as I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean we’re not moving?”

  She yawned. “It’s all planned out. Your mom and I talked it through already. Dad will join us for a joint Thanksgiving in Aspen, we’ll go to Nantucket together for Fourth of July, and Christmas will be at your family house. For the photo op, y’know. Sunday nights are family dinners, rotating between your house and mine, unless we do a group dinner at our house.”

  I blinked. “Our house?”

  “We’re thinking it’ll be in the Brentwood neighborhood. Overlooking the water, you know.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality.

  “Margeaux… I don’t want any of that,” I said.

  I waited for her viper side to come out, but she just snuggled deeper against me.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said with a yawn. “It’s not our choice. It’s all planned.”

  And just a few moments later, she was snoring.

  The rest of the ride home, my heart pulsed, blood roaring in my ears. What the fuck was all of this? Had they actually sat down and gone through the holidays and determined where we would be living? No one had even said a word to me. That trapped feeling started to take over again. I felt the walls closing in on me. I couldn’t catch my breath as the car rushed down the road, soaring us further toward Mother’s place. I swallowed to try and rid my throat of the knot that had formed. I gripped the leather seat, trying to root myself in reality as panic spun my head.

  A prison. My life had become a living, torturous Guantanamo. And I had no idea what the hell to do about it.

  However, as soon as the driver of the town car pulled in, I pulled myself together. I was getting all too good at burying things as needed, and I slipped out of the car to grab two of the help inside.

  I pointed. “Get them safely to Lila’s room and in bed. Put out some water and aspirin.”

  Then I took off.

  I walked so quickly toward my car it was almost a run. After the last time, I had taken the time to tuck a few extra bottles of vodka in the glove compartment. I grabbed one now and took a deep swig, feeling the pressure release a bit from my chest. And as soon as I got outside the gate, I rolled all the windows down, even though it was freezing. I relished the icy, fresh air whipping through the car. I let the car roll to a stop at Main Street’s four-way interse
ction so I could take another drink. I drank until the world felt further away, and only laughed when I dropped my phone on the floor while trying to play Eric Clapton.

  I revved my engine, marveling at the high-pitched sound it made. This car was a beauty. I gave the dashboard a fond pat.

  “At least there’s one good girl in my life,” I murmured.

  Then I slammed my foot down on the gas.

  I whipped down the street, buildings flying past me. Cold wetness came inside the car, pelting against and stinging my bare arms. I let out a whoop as I drove down Main, watching the speedometer slide from 90 to 100. I lightened my weight on the gas pedal as I came up to the curve that would shoot me outside of town and reached for the bottle to take another drink.

  And then I felt the car slip.

  11

  Brooklyn

  My head was down against the wind and the ice, so at first, I didn’t realize that the loud engine I’d heard earlier was getting closer. I didn’t notice until I felt it. The air whipped past me, and I saw a red Ferrari. One that looked awfully familiar as it flew down the road. I stopped in my tracks. This was a rich town with a lot of nice cars, but not so many red Ferraris. The rich here tended to prefer those cars that quietly declared their wealth rather than the flashiness of a sports car.

  Jude?

  The car looked a little unsteady. I checked my watch; it was almost 2:00 in the morning. My head whipped back up as the vehicle approached the sharp turn that led out of town. And when I didn’t hear those tires squealing from trying to slow down, felt my heart sink.

  “Slow down…,” I murmured. “Come on now, slow down.”

  The car didn’t seem to slow at all, though. As if the driver behind the wheel had a death sentence. I was already running toward the curve before it even slipped, because the ending of this story seemed obvious. I watched the two back tires give, sending the shiny red car swinging in circles on the slick road before flipping end over end down the embankment and into the trees.