by R Holmes
Immoral Confessions
Boys of St. Augustine, Book One
R. Holmes
Immoral Confessions © 2021 by R. Holmes.
Cover design: Najla Qamber, Qamber Designs
Editing by: Amy Briggs
Proofreading: Rumi Khan
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by and means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
About the Book
Playlist
Prologue
1. Valentina
2. Rhys
3. Valentina
4. Rhys
5. Valentina
6. Rhys
7. Valentina
8. Rhys
9. Valentina
10. Rhys
11. Valentina
12. Rhys
13. Valentina
14. Rhys
15. Valentina
16. Rhys
17. Valentina
18. Rhys
19. Valentina
20. Rhys
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by R. Holmes
About the Book
Immoral Confessions is a dark high school bully romance set at a Catholic boarding school. While the couple's story IS complete, there IS a cliffhanger for the series that will continue on into BOOK 2, TARNISHED VOW.
There are dubious scenes inside that some may find triggering including non consensual/dubious consensual scenes. Please heed this warning and read responsibly.
"This is R. Holmes' best work to date- I am obsessed! A story dark, provocative, and addictive-the perfect balance of that yummy bully love-hate tension with a nuanced and emotional character chemistry".- The Romantic Rush Blog
It started when I stole a secret I was never meant to keep.
Then, “I dare you,” was whispered in the dark of night.
Three simple words that changed everything.
I became the one thing that Rhys Blackwood hated more than he hated himself.
St. Augustine’s very own fallen angel had me in his hold and he wasn’t giving up until I was ruined.
I was a snitch. A liar. A pawn.
He was cruel. Merciless. The King.
Together, we were fated for destruction.
And where there are secrets and untruths… there are demons lurking beyond the shadows.
Playlist
Asshole- Hooligan Chase
Vicious- Tate McRae
I don’t think I love you anymore- Alaina Castillo
Stupid- Tate McRae
Fuck You- Silent Child
Such a Whore- JVLA
Like that- Bea Miller
Wait up- Charlotte Lawrence
Formula- Labrinth
Aura- Dennis Lloyd
I’m Not Mad- Halsey
Techno Thot!- KAMAARA
I want to- Rosenfeld
Bad Drugs- King Cavalier
Fallout- UNSECRET
Panic Room- Au/Ra
Sex with my ex- Loote
Grey- Two Feet
Human- Vanbur
Saints- Echos
The Fall- Bryce Vine
She thinks of me- Landon Tewers
Consensual- Landon Tewers
Black Magic- Eminem + Skylar Grey
Monsters- All time low
Reminds me of you- Juice WRLD
Teardrops- Bring me the Horizon
Fade- Lewis Capaldi
Unsteady- X Ambassadors
To those who aren’t afraid of what lurks in the darkness. For the lovers of the villains, the monsters, the broken. This one’s for you.
Everyone wants what they can't have. But, when it’s forbidden and illicit, our darkest desires stay hidden somewhere we never expect someone to look.
Veiled by the dark of night, all of those shameful desires stay tucked away.
We hide behind illusions. Perfectly constructed, never showing what's lurking beneath the surface. We’re scared to let the world see who we really are, what we truly desire.
People run from those desires because they're fearful of what it makes them.
They're afraid of the wickedness that has taken root in their hearts, to show anyone the ugliness that taints their souls.
A sin is a sin, no matter which way you try to disguise it.
Mortals have surrendered into temptation to sin for as long as time.
It’s what God made us to do. Fall, only to be forgiven.
Eve and the forbidden apple. David and Bathsheba.
But what immoral confessions deem you unforgivable?
How many times can you be tempted to sin before you're dancing with the devil and there's no redemption for your soul?
Then… you're fallen.
"Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation." Luke 11:4
"Move it, bitch." A hard, sharp shoulder connects with mine, causing me to drop the armful of books I was scarcely hanging onto right into the mud beside the walkway.
Of course.
The group of girls in their St. Augustine uniforms—red and navy plaid skirts, blazers adorned with the silver school crest, and signature red bottoms—snicker and giggle together as they stand there and watch as I begin to pick up all of my books they purposefully knocked out of my hands. But, not before throwing more insults my way.
"Go back to Hollywood, whore. Daddy might have paid your way in here, but there's no room for trash like you," their head bitch in charge, Mara, spits my way. She gives me a snide, cold grin before turning on her heel and leaving me there with my jaw clenched so tightly, the pain radiates up the side of my head. Her posse of mean girls follow closely behind her.
It takes strength from Jesus Christ himself not to cry in the middle of the courtyard, but I know it'll just make life worse. Then, not only will I be the outsider who wants to steal the most popular girl in the school's boyfriend, but I'll be the laughingstock of the entire school.
Getting paired with Mara's boyfriend in chemistry and texting him to try and set up a time to complete said project, apparently made me want to sleep with him and, therefore, be shunned by basically anyone and everyone who was anyone at St. Augustine.
Just another day at St. Augustine Catholic Academy, Catholic boarding schools’ very own version of the Upper East Side.
Where the girls are ten times bitchier, and unless you come from one of the founding families, you're not worthy of the ground their Louboutins walk on.
And me?
I'm a nobody. People look right through me like I don't even exist. Seriously, someone tried to sit in my chair yesterday in the library because they, and I quote, “didn't see me."
They couldn't see an actual person. One who was occupying a chair that they wanted to sit in.
Most days, being the nobody is exactly how I want it. I want to keep my head down, focus on my studies, and pass my senior year unscathed. Then I’ll get my one-way ticket to Harvard Law and never look back.
<
br /> Until the chemistry fiasco, I was happy being a nobody. Now, everywhere I turn, Mara Mikaleson is determined to make me as miserable as she possibly can. Her, and her posse of mean girls.
It’s like they seek me out just to make my life a living hell. I'm lucky if I finish an entire day without being tripped, finding gum in my seat after I sit, or even better yet, having "slut" written on my locker in bright red lipstick. Mara's signature YSL color, of course. There is no doubt whenever I’m targeted by them, they make sure I—and everyone around—know they have struck.
I bend down and retrieve the now soaking wet, muddy books from the puddle. Completely ruined. Great. Not only do I have to buy new ones, but they had all of my highlighted notes from weeks of studying. Down the drain in a matter of seconds.
The huge bell that sits high in the tower of the courtyard begins to ring, signaling that I am officially late for my last class of the day.
Late. Books soaking wet, and now I'll end up in detention because Sister Mary Margaret doesn't tolerate tardiness, no matter the reason.
My phone vibrates in my pocket insistently, and I try to juggle the ruined books between my arms to retrieve it from my coat pocket. When I pull it out, there's a text from my stepmom, Victoria, with another reminder to skip the bread at dinner tonight because I looked a little "fluffy" in the picture I posted on my social media page.
I groan out loud.
Can this day get any worse?
Truly famous last words.
My head falls onto the book in front of me and I let out a frustrated curse. It’s been hours, and I’m no closer than I was when I started trying to comprehend ancient artifacts of Europe. I’ve been hiding in the library most of the evening, praying I don’t have to deal with Mara.
The dark hue of moonlight shines through the immense floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows in front of me. Its colored rivulets of glass cast a pale glow on my history books that are spread out haphazardly on the library table.
I’ve barely lifted my head from studying since the sun went down outside. My head aches and my neck is stiff from sitting in the same position for the past four hours. All I need is to get a C on this test knocking my GPA down. I’ll spend twice the amount of time trying to get back the points I lost.
Exasperated, I sigh.
It’s fine, Valentina, you’ll just end up back in California living with your father and stepmonster who will put a lock on the fridge in fear of you getting “fatter”.
I slam my history book shut, then begin to put it into my backpack when I hear the entrance door creak open and muffled voices.
Shit. No one is supposed to know I’m here.
Sister Mary Margaret has been letting me study in the library after hours even though it is against the rules. I would die if I got her in trouble. I quickly gather my notebooks, pens, and laptop, and shove them in the bag before dashing to hide behind the shadows of the tall wooden shelves. My heart is pounding in my chest at the thought of being caught. I listen as the voices come closer and closer, and I place my hand over my mouth to silence the sound of my labored breathing.
“I can’t believe we are sneaking into the library, dude. I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames the second we walked across the threshold. Have you ever actually been inside a library? Can you even read?” The gruff voice echoes somewhere across the building, but close enough to where I can make out their conversation.
Who sneaks into the library except me?
“Fuck off. You’re the one failing English literature because you’re too worried about getting your dick sucked, asshole,” guy number one scoffs in protest, and I hear a fist hit flesh.
“Chill,” the command comes from a new voice. One that makes my skin turn hot, and the heat rush to my cheeks from the one lone syllable.
I peek around the edge of the bookshelf to try and get a better look at the group, but it’s too dark to see anything but the rows of shelves.
“Why are we here again?” the first guy says.
I hear shuffling and books being moved around and thrown to the floor.
“Numbnuts was here last night and set his phone down on a shelf.”
“What the fuck were you doing here last night?”
Their voices are getting closer and closer, so I tiptoe further down the shelf, ready to flee.
“Complicated. When the pussy calls…” He trails off and I hear how big his ego is simply by the tone of his voice. What a pig.
Finally, they come into view and my jaw drops when I see who they are. Rhys Blackwood. St. Augustine’s very own fallen angel. He’s so far fallen from grace, everyone knows there is no saving him. When you hear Rhys’s name… you hear the sordid tales of what he’s done at St. Augustine. The rumors about him run rampant. When you hear of him, you’re either fearful of what it means to be in his sights, or ready to fall at his feet. It’s only ever one or the other. It’s a shame, because he’s so beautiful it’s ethereal. The second he walks into a room, every eye in the room is on him. There’s something about him that sucks you in, only for him to swallow you whole.
He’s the most wanted guy at St. Augustine. Mara has been pining over Rhys since the second she laid eyes on him freshman year. Not that I’ve ever seen him give her the time of day. But then again, I don’t ever find myself in close proximity with the Boys of St. Augustine.
Rhys is over six feet tall, looming over most of the girls here, including some of his friends. Dark hair that looks as if he’s run his fingers through it a thousand times, over and over in frustration. Sinful, dark eyes that seem to bore straight into your soul. Looking into them, they’re a pool of black that you feel from the outside in. His lips were crafted to fit him, and only him. Only he could pull them off. Full and always twisted together in a scowl that I’ve come to know as his signature expression. I’ve never seen him smile, and all it did was make him that much more desirable even if it wasn’t his intention. I don’t know who Rhys Blackwood really is, I don’t think anyone does. The mystery only adds to the appeal, and causes females to fall like flies at his feet. Everyone wants to know him, be his friend, have five minutes of his time. An unreachable pedestal that remains untouched by most.
I watch as his lips curl in a snarl as his best friend, Sebastian, walks toward him with his newly found phone in hand and gives him a chilling smile.
“Got it. Thank fuck.” Relief is etched in his handsome features. While he’s nowhere near Rhys as far as looks go, he is still strikingly handsome. Sebastian Pierce. The kind of old money that is seen, but not spoken of. And when it comes to him, I truly think he has more money than sense. While remarkably handsome and chill at the same time, there is something about him I can’t place. All of my thoughts on the boys are assumptions or rumors that had been told many times over. Sebastian is an enigma. Tall, strong jaw, angular cheekbones, piercing eyes. His dark hair is always mussed and unkempt, despite his family's wealth and proper appearance. He does his own thing, and no one ever questions him.
Sebastian, from what I know, is the most down to earth one of his group. Not that I know much about them except what I hear in passing. They walk around St. Augustine and people bow. Untouchable. There’s no question; they own this school. It’s seriously sickening to watch the girls throw themselves at them. Like we aren’t at a Catholic school where virtue is sacred and protected. Not to these bitches.
But then again, St. Augustine isn’t like any another Catholic school.
“We need to talk,” Ezra, the other part of their group, says, shoving Sebastian. He looks around nervously as if he’s waiting for someone to jump out from behind the shelves and catch them in the act. Ezra is the complete and total opposite of Sebastian. Where Sebastian is funny and carefree, Ezra is intense and broody. He and Rhys seem to be cut from the same cloth. Jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. The light caramel honey mixture of his skin makes him a rare type of perfection. Captain of the hockey team and an all-round manwhore.
“Lower your voice,” Rhys barks.
“Dude, we’re in the library in the middle of the night. Not a mouse in sight.”
Rhys’s fists tighten against his sides, and he looks even more menacing than he did only moments ago.
“This doesn’t leave our circle, do you hear me? I’ve already spoken to Alec. He’ll be back on campus tomorrow,” he barks, right after telling them to lower their voices.
The air in the room shifts as they nod in agreeance with Rhys.
“We fucking take it to our graves. That house burned due to an electrical malfunction. That’s what the arsonist investigator will find, and unless one of you open your mouth, that’s all they’ll find. We were never there, and we keep our asses out of jail.”
What? A house? A fire..?.
My heart beats wildly in my chest hearing his words. The library is the last place I should’ve been tonight.
“Rhys… I think someone was in the house,” Ezra says quietly. His deep voice seems full of remorse. I hear the tremor and that makes me even more scared about what I’m hearing.
I watch as Rhys goes completely rigid. His body turns straight to stone. He clenches his jaw so tightly I think it might crack, but he eventually speaks again.
“There was no one there. We checked, three times.” His cold, dark eyes search the room as if he’s worried of anyone overhearing what he’s saying. If he knew I was here, I don’t think I would be safe any longer. If he knew that I was stealing his secrets, he’d come after me next.
