by Laura Lee
“God, she’s such a waste of space,” Peyton whines. “Daddy doesn’t even want her living with us. It’s so obvious. I really wish he would’ve just let her stay in the system. She so doesn’t belong.”
Imogen, one of Peyton’s minions, pouts. “You poor thing. I can’t imagine living with someone so... uncouth. Did you hear the way she talks? And what’s the deal with the red lipstick in the middle of the day? Like, oh my God, ghetto much? She looks like a whore.”
“I certainly wouldn’t say no to having that lipstick smeared all over my cock,” Bentley quips.
I flash him a glare, but the asshole just smirks at me. Bentley and Reed are like brothers to me. We’re so in sync, we can often read each other’s minds. I’m sure Bentley knows my thoughts are currently echoing his.
Whitney, Bent’s on-again, off-again fuck, scowls. “Gross. It’s not even funny to joke about something like that.”
His grin widens. “Who said I was joking?”
Whitney’s lip quivers. “Baby, stop. People are going to think you’re serious.”
I have to fight the urge to plug my ears. I swear to Christ, that chick must have a mouth like a Hoover for Bentley to put up with her nasally voice.
“Oh-em-gee, you should’ve seen her before my mom’s stylists fixed her hair.” Peyton leans forward, smiling as if she has some juicy gossip. “She had bright purple highlights, split ends for days, and the rattiest clothes I’ve ever seen. I was totally embarrassed to be living in the same house with someone so trashy. Can you believe she refused to let them do her hair and makeup before school today? I’m pretty sure she’s only wearing that slutty lipstick right now... maybe some mascara. And her hair is totally air dried! Can you imagine?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes when Imogen and Whitney gasp. God forbid someone doesn’t put on twenty layers of makeup and styling products in the morning.
Peyton laughs mockingly. “I guess you can take the girl out of the projects, but the projects will most certainly never leave that girl.”
My eyes automatically follow said girl across the dining room. She’s facing away from me, but as I take in her waist-length dark hair, I find myself imagining what it would look like with a pop of color. Hot as hell, I’m guessing. Bentley meets my eyes again and I can tell he’s having the same thoughts.
Don’t even think about it, my eyes warn.
If you’re not going to tap that, I sure as shit am, his eyes reply.
I scowl, which only makes the asshole laugh.
“What’s so funny, babe?” Whitney trails her nails down his forearm, using the most obnoxious baby voice.
“Nothing, babe,” he assures her. “Just guy stuff.”
She pouts, clearly not satisfied with that answer but smart enough not to press for more. Well, look at that: you can teach a dumb dog new tricks.
Reed leans back in his chair and taps my shoulder. “She gonna be a problem, man?”
Reed’s a man of few words, but his intuition is on point. He and Bent know my plan for destroying Charles Callahan. He can sense that Jasmine’s arrival is something to be concerned about.
“Later,” I tell him.
He nods, knowing this isn’t the time or place for this discussion. I’m going to need a minute to figure out what our next move will be. The only thing I do know right now is that Charles’ bastard will not fuck this up for me. If that means I have to fuck her life up in the process, so be it. Collateral damage is always inevitable in war anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
JAZZ
I breathe a sigh of relief when I walk into AP Lit and see no sign of Kingston Davenport. I stopped by the bathroom on the way from lunch, so the class is pretty full by the time I arrive. The only open seats are in the last row, so I make my way down the aisle.
“Whore,” one girl mutters as she makes a failed attempt to trip me.
“How much do you charge for blowies, honey?” This comes from some future politician looking douche who’s eying me like I’m a big, juicy steak.
I ignore the derogatory whispers and stares, refusing to give them the satisfaction. Karma will bite these motherfuckers in the ass one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I keep my head down, pull my tablet out of my bag, and open the online classroom portal, waiting for our teacher to begin.
I glance up when all hushed voices suddenly stop. I assumed the teacher was approaching the podium, indicating the start of class, but I should’ve known better. Not only does Kingston walk through the doors right as the bell is ringing, but he’s flanked by both Reed and Bentley. And, of course the only available seats are the three in my row.
Fuck my life.
Bentley flashes an arrogant smirk and drops his ass on the seat to my left. Kingston takes the desk beside him while Reed is on my right. I stare straight ahead, willing the damn teacher to start class already.
Hot breath hits my ear right before he speaks. “Hey, Little Red Ride Me From the Hood. Look at you, surrounded by three big, bad wolves.”
Wily fucker. The wolves are Windsor’s mascot and Bentley’s obviously dogging where I came from. Too bad for him, I’m not ashamed of my roots.
I swat him away with my hand. “Clever. Now back the fuck off.”
His chair protests as he scoots his desk closer. “You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth, Jazzy Jazz?”
I glare at him through the side of my eye. “Don’t have a boyfriend, Get Bent.”
“Ooh, she has claws!” he taunts. “You know I love it when you talk dirty, baby.” Bentley grabs his crotch. “Makes my dick so hard. Why don’t you come a little closer and see for yourself?”
I eye his crotch and give him the most unimpressed look I can manage. “Sorry, I forgot my microscope. How ever will I find it without one?”
Reed releases a deep chuckle. Well, I’ll be damned. I made the silent, broody one react.
Bentley’s jaw drops. “You apologize to him right now!” He looks down to his lap. “It’s okay, buddy, she didn’t mean it.”
I try disguising my laugh with a scoff. Damn it, why do I find this idiot so charming?
“Don’t hold your breath. Actually... I take that back. Please do hold your breath. If I’m lucky, you’ll pass out and I won’t have to listen to your ridiculous nonsense.”
“Miss Callahan, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
I glance up at the front of the classroom to find Ms. Henderson staring at me expectantly, her annoyance obvious. What the hell? I’m not the only one talking!
She raises a delicate silver brow. “Well?”
“No, ma’am,” I mutter.
Ms. Henderson gives a tight nod. “Good. Now, keep quiet, please. Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re comfortable because the seat you chose today will be yours for the rest of the trimester.”
I stifle a groan.
When our teacher turns to write something on the whiteboard, Bentley leans over again. “Ooh, it looks like we’re about to get some real quality time together, princess. Today must be my lucky day.”
I grind my teeth together. “Shut. Up.”
“Maybe I will if you give me that pretty red mouth of yours. I bet your throat feels real nice and warm on the inside. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
I fight a smile, wondering what Madeline would do if she saw me right now. She was already in a huff because I refused to let anyone do my hair or makeup this morning. Little did she know, I stashed my favorite mascara and lip stain in my bag and applied it during the ride to school. My uniform skirt is black and red plaid and the reds matched perfectly so I considered it a sign.
Bentley flips the back of my hair. “This silky hair of yours would look even better wrapped around my fist.”
I’m about to tell this asshat to fuck off but the one next to him speaks up first.
“That’s enough,” Kingston growls.
Bentley slouches back in his chair. “Just having a little fun, man.”
“Don’t worry, Bent. There will be plenty of time for fun later.”
What the hell does that mean? And why did my mind automatically go to the gutter thinking of all the possibilities? I really need to get a handle on my attraction to him.
For the next forty minutes, I do my best to ignore the three ridiculously hot assholes next to me. The moment the bell rings, I dart out of the room as fast as possible.
As I’m crossing the threshold, I swear one of them says, “You can run, but you can’t hide, princess.”
MADELINE IS WAITING for me right inside the front door when I get home from school. She scowls when she sees my red lips but that quickly morphs into a plastic smile.
“How was your first day at school, dear?”
I shrug. “It could’ve been worse. I met a really cool girl, so that’s a plus.”
“That’s great! What’s her name?”
“Ainsley Davenport.”
Madeline’s smile is genuine now. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Ainsley is a lovely girl. Her mother and I are friends.”
I frown in confusion. “She said her mother passed away.”
“Oh, her birth mother did, quite a few years ago. I was referring to her stepmother, Vanessa. She’s the third Mrs. Davenport.” Madeline holds her index finger up. “Wait... the fourth. Or... maybe she’s the third wife and he’s her fourth husband? It’s all so confusing.”
“Of course,” I say mockingly.
“You should get cleaned up and ready for dinner.” She appraises me. “Please don’t test your father’s patience tonight and wear something nice from your closet. And remove that wretched color from your lips. The Davenports will actually be our guests for dinner. Unfortunately, Ainsley can’t make it because she has ballet rehearsal, but her twin brother will be here. Have you met Kingston yet? He’s Peyton’s boyfriend.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Oh, I’ve met him. He’s a peach.”
My sarcasm either went over her head or she’s choosing to ignore it.
“Fabulous!” Madeline clasps her hands together. “Dinner will be at six o’clock sharp. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure the chef has everything I’ve asked him to prepare.”
How is this my life? I groan as I head to my room, trying to think of a viable excuse to skip dinner.
CHAPTER SIX
KINGSTON
“Would you like a scotch, son?”
I bite my tongue to prevent myself from lashing out. I’ll never get what I need if Charles Callahan suspects how I really feel about him.
“That’d be nice, Mr. Callahan. Thank you for offering.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Charles, boy? We’re practically family. Marrying Peyton is just a formality.”
I’d like to say that will never happen, but if I don’t manage to dig up his deepest, darkest secrets before then, it might. Peyton is a lot of things, but patient is not one of them. She’s made it clear she expects a ring on her finger by Christmas and she has no intention of having a long engagement. She knows I’m using her, and the manipulative bitch is twisting it to her advantage. Peyton doesn’t really care about me, but she does care about her image and the marriage clause in her trust fund. It’s the only reason she agreed to this little arrangement of ours.
I pretend to be her doting boyfriend in public and she gushes about how wonderful I am to Daddy Dearest. Peyton thinks I’m trying to earn her dad’s trust and respect so he’ll make me partner in his firm once I graduate law school. The fact that she actually believes that garbage proves she doesn’t know me at all.
I take the tumbler from him. “Thank you, Charles.”
He laughs. “Now, was that so hard?”
My father laughs. “How are things at the firm?”
“Can’t complain,” Charles replies. “Our second quarter revenue was at a record high.”
Yeah, I bet. Charles Callahan is one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the country. He has a perfect winning record so of course, anyone facing a nasty charge would want to retain him. It doesn’t matter what you’re accused of or how guilty you are. If you’re wealthy enough, and Charles agrees to represent you, an acquittal is almost guaranteed. The man has so many officials in his pocket, it’s obscene.
If my suspicions are correct, he has some pretty hefty blackmail on those officials from his business with my father. Neither one of them are aware I know about their disgusting side venture. It’s one of the many cards I’m holding close until the timing is right. I need to play the game until I can gather enough evidence, no dirty judge or DA can dig them out of it. Hence, why I’m currently in Charles Callahan’s cigar room, acting like I enjoy hanging out with these old pricks.
I grind my molars when he pats me on the back. “I’ve got some new Cubans for after dinner. You interested?”
“Of course he’s interested,” my father answers on my behalf. “What else would he do? Gossip with the hens?”
Both men laugh at that while I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate my father just as much as I hate Callahan. They’re both narcissistic sociopaths and massive chauvinists. A woman’s purpose in their world is to look pretty, keep their mouths shut and their legs open whenever they feel like busting a nut. I like fucking hot girls as much as the next guy, but women with nothing between their ears drive me insane. Sadly, there’s not many options outside of our circle.
That said, nothing would make my father happier than watching me follow in his path, so I allow him to believe I share his opinion. And nothing would make Charles happier than pawning his daughter off to someone as wealthy as well-bred as I am. I wonder if he would still feel that way if he knew how many times I beat off earlier to fantasies of his other daughter.
“How are things going with Jasmine?” my dad asks Charles as he takes a seat on the tufted leather couch.
Well, now here’s a topic I’ll actually be interested in. It’s like he read my mind.
Charles sighs. “Not well, Preston. Not well at all. She’s stubborn, impulsive, and... rough around the edges. It’s going to take a lot of effort to make her heel. Madeline has taken her on as a little pet project, so I’m hoping she’ll whip her into shape soon enough.”
I smirk. Good luck with that, Chuck. If the limited interactions I’ve had with her are any indication, Jasmine heels to no one. It’s one of the main reasons I find her so intriguing.
“If Madeline can’t handle it, I’m sure Kingston here would be more than happy to show her how things work around here,” my dad offers. “Right, son?”
I swallow the remaining liquid in my glass before nodding. “Of course. I would love to put her in her place. I met her this morning and I can certainly appreciate your problem, Charles. She’s rather... spirited.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Do you really think you could break her of that stupid notion?”
Both men are watching me carefully, waiting for my response.
I give them a confident grin, despite the fact that confidence is the last thing I’m feeling right now. “Without a doubt. In fact, I’d be happy to start right away. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be the most obedient woman you know.”
Charles’ eyes light up. “I knew you were special, son.” He turns toward my dad. “If he does well with this, maybe we should bring him in on other projects.”
My father nods. “Agreed. I think it’s about time.”
Well, well. It looks like I may not need Peyton after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAZZ
At quarter to six, Ms. Williams showed up at my door to ensure I
was dressed properly. Apparently, the sperm donor didn’t trust me to do it myself, which was actually pretty smart of him if I’m being honest. After donning the green Prada dress and gold sandals she pulled out of my closet, I’m being ushered to the formal dining room.
When I hesitate at the bottom of the staircase, she gives me a little shove. “Hurry, now. The Davenports have been here for a while and they should be finished with pre-dinner drinks. Your father does not tolerate tardiness.”
I have a feeling he doesn’t tolerate much of anything.
When I arrive, Madeline, Peyton, and the third—or fourth—Mrs. Davenport are sitting at the table, sipping on champagne.
“Oh, Jasmine, there you are!” Madeline motions me over. “This is Vanessa Davenport, honey. Come say hello.”
I nod to the pretty blonde who couldn’t possibly be over twenty-five. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Davenport.”
She stands and does this weird air kiss thing on each side of my face. “Oh, my, you’re absolutely gorgeous!” Mrs. Davenport faces Madeline. “Maddie, you didn’t mention how beautiful she was. Charles must be so proud.”
Yeah, because a woman’s value is in her beauty, right?
“Thanks,” I mumble, reminding myself this woman has done nothing wrong to me.
Right before I sit down, three men enter the room.
“Preston, come here and meet Jasmine.” Vanessa practically pushes me toward her husband. What is it with these people and the pushing? “Isn’t she lovely? God, what I wouldn’t give to have skin this flawless!”