by Nina Levine
Reign Anthology
Addison Jane
Nina Levine
Penny Dee
K E Osborn
JA Low
Kat T Masen
Bec McMaster
Kally Ash
Evie Mitchell
Leesa Bow
Liz Lovelock
Emma James
Corinne Mazille
Contents
Illusive - The Exiled Eight MC
Addison Jane
Little Bird
Kally Ash
Surrendered Hearts
Nina Levine
King of the Boroughs
Penny Dee
The Unwanted Crown
K E Osborn
Three’s A Crown
JA Low
The Trouble With Love
Kat T. Masen
Prince of Ruin
Bec McMaster
The Marriage Claim
Evie Mitchell
Stardust
Leesa Bow
Queen of the V
Liz Lovelock
King’s Gambit
Emma James
Runaway Princess
Corinne Mazille
Illusive - The Exiled Eight MC
Addison Jane
Prologue
ZOEY/Angie
“Asshole,” I cursed, wiping at the foggy mirror and leaning in close to get a good look at the fresh bruise highlighting my cheekbone. “Dammit.” I’d have to try and hide the mark before Lisa got a glimpse of it. She didn’t take lightly to the men putting their hands on us because then she knew we didn’t make them happy. And unhappy customers aren’t good for business.
Making quick work of adding another layer of foundation to my face, I swiped extra blush strategically across my cheeks to give me what Lisa liked to call that innocent glow. The heat of the shower washed away some of the shame and disgust that tainted my skin, but it was never going to wash away that crawling sensation that had buried itself deep inside.
A feeling I was fairly sure was permanent.
The party was still pumping by the time I got back downstairs. I wasted no time, quickly snatching a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by.
Liquid courage.
Something to numb my choices.
Something to wipe my memories.
The young server didn’t even look twice. He’d been paid not to, even though I was acutely aware of the fact I didn’t look anywhere close to being twenty-one.
I wouldn’t be here if I did.
That wasn’t what these men were looking for.
Eyes skimmed my body as I passed by. I swore I could feel them reaching for me, their hands tearing at my clothes, the feel of their breath against my neck. Goddammit. My self-control managed to curb the disgusted shudder I could feel tickling at the base of my spine, but not the nausea that had already begun to stir inside my stomach.
“Jesus,” I cursed, lifting the alcohol to my lips, desperate for some kind of escape.
“No drinking, you know the rules.”
I stilled, my face sinking as the glass was plucked from my grasp before I could even take a single mouthful. Lisa’s taloned fingers wrapped around the tall flute, her long nails clinking against the glass.
“You’re underage,” she scolded, her nose flaring.
“Right, underage,” I repeated, spitting out a sharp laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I am not,” she growled and pressed the glass to her lips, taking a dainty sip just at the edge. Everything she did had to be elegant, high class. From the way she drank to her sleek ink-black hair that was cut into a sharp, sophisticated bob. Her eyes scanned the room constantly, aware of everything that was going on, mentally matching men with the generous array of teenage girls scattered throughout the room. Her eyes finally fell back to me, disappointment clearly evident. “You think stumbling around with a glass of alcohol in your hand is going to make these men want to get anywhere near you?”
“All the more reason,” I quipped, my lip curling.
“Angie…”
“Too young to drink, but just the right age to be fucked by perverts. Got ya.” The low murmur was meant to be under my breath, but like always, I underestimated Lisa Eyler and her ability to see, hear, and smell defiance.
And also, her innate ability to tear it from you.
Her perfectly crafted persona didn’t falter for a second. The typical warm, welcoming smile plastered across her face as she hooked her arm through mine and directed me through the crowd.
Throngs of A-list celebrities, CEOs, and court judges mixed and mingled like any high-profile event you would expect in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
It was everything you’d expect.
Million-dollar homes, wealthy residents, expensive parties.
Oh, and teenage girls being paraded in front of rich, untouchable men and sold like fucking cattle.
Invitation only, of course.
Lisa’s nails pinched at my skin with enough pressure to make my knees week, and a slight whimper escaped from my throat. “Lisa,” I hissed, a painful crack in my voice that could have easily been mistaken for pleading.
She didn’t respond, not until we reached the double doors at the end of the hall. One hard shove, and I went flying through them, stumbling, fighting to catch myself but failing. My hip hit the floor first, the carpet burning at my palms as I reached out to try and brace myself.
“Get up.”
I fought the aches and pains resonating through my body, trying to ignore them for just a second while I found my feet. I may have spent the past couple of years being beaten, broken, and used, but I hadn’t been defeated.
Not fucking yet.
“Go to hell,” I snapped through clenched teeth, blood dripping down my arm from where her nails had pierced my skin. I stood tall, meeting the hellfire gaze of the woman I’d once seen as a person I thought I could aspire to.
This kick-ass bitch, holding her own in a world full of men.
The kind that looked down on women, not seeing them as equals.
Though what I hadn’t realized when I’d first met her was her hold over these men wasn’t because they looked up to her, and it wasn’t because they respected her or the millions of dollars she had worked hard for.
No.
This world didn’t run on respect.
It was fueled by fear.
And Lisa Eyler had every single one of these men by the fucking balls.
When I didn’t move, she stormed forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair in her hand. I squashed the painful scream that filled my throat, feeling single hairs be ripped from my scalp as she pulled harder, forcing me to sink back, then onto my knees to escape the pain.
“You want to go back home, Angie?” she taunted, crouching down and pressing her face right in close to mine. She reached out, brushing away the stray tears that were now decorating my cheeks, thanks to the pulsating ache in my skull. “I brought you here,” she whispered, the gentle tone much like that of a mother trying to soothe her child. “I protected you from your dad. Paid for you to go to a good school. Found sponsors so you could join your little swim team.”
I was finally getting good grades, and I had always had this addiction to the water, but now with her backing me, I had the chance to make the national team.
Gritting my
teeth, I listened to the speech, the one I’d heard time and fucking time again.
How she was so good to me.
How she had saved me.
Given me a life I could have never dreamed of.
Reminding me of what I could go back to if I wanted to walk away.
A run-down apartment with the electricity turned off more often than it was on. The constant questioning of whether I would eat that day because my father spent everything he had earned on alcohol. Then used me as his personal punching bag because apparently, it was my fault my mom walked out on us.
I paid for my parents’ decisions every single damn day of my life.
That was until two years ago when Lisa showed up like the fairy fucking godmother I thought I deserved. She told me I was beautiful, told me how much potential I had to be something amazing, and I was at a place in my life where I didn’t even need amazing.
I would have been happy with just being something.
Anything.
She offered me a lifeline.
So I took the leap.
Right into the fires of hell.
And here was I was, praying that one day they might actually destroy me.
Lisa finally released me from her tight grip, my sore and aching body sinking back onto the floor. “Now you’re going to get up,” she explained, her fingers caressing my jaw as she stepped back. “You’re going to plaster a beautiful, welcoming smile on your face, and you are going to please the man I send in here for you. Are we clear?”
Gritting my teeth, I fought every natural urge I had to fight back, knowing it wouldn’t be any use.
All it would get me was punishment.
Locked away.
Possibly beaten.
And while telling Lisa to go fuck herself could have been worth a few days of not being able to get out of bed, it wasn’t worth it.
Because a few days ago, things changed.
So I shut my mouth.
“I said… Are. We. Clear?”
I cleared my throat, swallowing back the tears, and answered, “Crystal.”
1
Zoey
“Blair, move it,” I called from the front door of our little two-bedroom apartment.
My foot tapped impatiently on the tiled floor as I once again took another look at the time on my phone. I was going to be late—nothing new there.
“Keep your pants on,” my teenage daughter screamed back at me, forcing me to take two deep, hopefully calming breaths.
The kid was the brightest light in my life, but Blair was also the sharpest pain in my ass. She was like a walking, talking lesson in karma.
A few seconds later, Blair came flying out of her room, her backpack hanging from one shoulder as she hopped around fighting to pull on one of her shoes. “I’m just letting it be known again…” she protested, slightly out of breath, “… I’m not happy about this.” Blair finally got the defiant shoe on and huffed out an exhausted breath.
“Noted, for the eighty-fourth time.”
She stuck her tongue out at me as she headed for the front door, and I returned the gesture—because I was fucking mature like that—before pulling it closed behind us.
“Why couldn’t I just go to the local public school?” Blair continued to groan as we pulled out of the apartment complex parking lot in my trusty Toyota. This car had gotten us across the country and back again on several occasions. I’d been waiting for years for her to break down, but she was hanging in there.
Blair yanked uncomfortably at the collar of her polo shirt, then her nose screwed up in disgust. “You know… public school,” she continued in annoyance when I didn’t reply. “Where they don’t wear plaid skirts and collared shirts that make me feel like I’m being slowly decapitated.”
“Wow! Where’s your crown at, drama queen?” I snorted.
Blair patted her hand around on the top of her head. “Oh, dammit, I must have left it back at the apartment with my get-me-the-hell-out-of-here wand.” I tried hard not to smile. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need that today, so can we go back and get it?”
“Sorry, your majesty. The carriage is almost at the kingdom,” I informed her in a snooty-tooty voice, pointing to the large building up ahead.
“Fantastic.”
She felt like I was punishing her. And while I’d always fought tooth and nail to make sure Blair was happy, this was one of those times where I had to put my foot down and remind myself, she would thank me later.
After six different public schools in three years, five of which were in neighborhoods where I was afraid she was going to get gunned down by gang bangers, I was finally at a point in my life where my business was thriving, and I was able to afford to give her the education I didn’t get. Yes, we were still living in a tiny apartment, but the complex we were in had security, a pool, and it was nice. Right now, all my money was going into Blair’s schooling and advertising myself around the city.
We’d been here for just under three weeks. I’d secured myself a high-profile job doing the interior design for around twenty new apartments, which were being built a few blocks from our new home.
It was the biggest job I’d had to date—hence the move down here from Montana.
It was an opportunity I couldn’t say no to. It would keep us going for the next couple of months, then I just had to cross my fingers and hope they liked me enough to keep me on to do other projects with them, or they would recommend me to others. Basically, it was a leap of faith, one that Blair had taken with me more times than I could count on both hands.
It’d been her and I against the world since she was born. In a few months, she’d be the same age I was when I’d gotten pregnant—sweet sixteen— but in reality, she was an old soul already.
She’d had to grow up fast.
We both had.
And I was determined to make this stop the last one—the place where we could finally settle down and stop running.
I had to make this work.
I was going to make it work.
Come hell or high water.
When I pulled up to the curb outside the school, we sat there for a few minutes, staring at the perfectly constructed and intricately designed building.
“We both know I’m not fancy enough for this place, Mom,” Blair murmured, continuing to stare at the imposing structure in front of us.
It was hard for me to see her so nervous and unsure of herself. Blair was a fighter, but there were still moments where she struggled to find her feet in unfamiliar situations. Her fingers twirled unconsciously in her curly blonde hair. She hadn’t bothered to straighten it this morning, and even though it was pulled back from her face with a headband, it was wild and thick and often reminded me of a lion’s mane. And the girl was just as damn fierce as one too.
A sharp bell rang, and the few students who were scattered around the front of the building rushed away. A handful of girls scurried past the car, chatting and giggling to themselves.
Apart from the uniform, these kids looked like normal kids, the same as the ones you would find at any public school. Except they were going to get a better education, and they were going to have teachers who were paid to put in the extra time and effort with each student. These kids were going to be given opportunities to succeed with support, resources, and money. And as far as I was concerned, my daughter was going to be right alongside them, getting the education that I was denied. And it was going to be a damn good one, so I didn’t have to watch her struggle or fight to make a life for herself like she’d had to watch me do.
I took her hand in mine and squeezed. “Just do you, baby girl,” I encouraged her, drawing her eyes to me. I could see she was a little scared. I got it. I did. This shit was frightening as hell. “Fancy or not… who cares. Because you’re smart, and here, you’re gonna be challenged, and you’re going to excel.”
She sighed, nodding slowly.
Blair was smart—that was no understatement. Sometimes I wondered if she was
too smart for her own good. Trust me, I wasn’t one of those parents who thought their kids were perfect angels and could do no wrong. Nope, that dream went out the window when I was called to the principal’s office on her second day of Pre-K.
She wasn’t a bad kid, honestly.
“Do you think they’ll give me detention on my first day?” Blair asked as she reached for the door handle. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, praying to fucking anyone who would listen that she would at least last the first day. Unfortunately, along with her big heart and sparkling blue eyes, the other trait that rivaled her huge brain was her smart mouth and her inability to keep it shut when she felt like she had something to say.
“Blair… pleas—”
She threw herself across the center of the car and pressed a kiss to my cheek, effectively cutting me off, grinning smugly as she pulled the door handle and climbed out.
“It’s fine,” she tried to placate me, waving her hand as if trying to shoo me away. “I’ll see you after school here somewhere.”
I crinkled my nose and frowned at her jovial change in mood. “Listen here, missy,” I ordered, almost climbing out of the car when she rolled her eyes before focusing in on me. “No making anyone cry. No tormenting other kids with sick jokes about why you had to move school. No giving teachers lists of juvies when they ask about where they can find your records. And above all, no pretending to be allergic to the cafeteria food.”
With each demand, her smile grew bigger.
I knew her tricks.
We’d done this dance plenty of times before.
But each time she would come up with something new.
And each time, I honestly couldn’t fault her creativity.
“Mom, it’s gonna be fine,” she assured me again, leaning in the open car door with a smile. “I will keep the making people cry to a minimum… today. Just focus on work. Go and meet with that boss guy and impress his stupid business socks off.”
