Without warning, Xander’s face pops into my head, replacing the creeper, maybe because he’d be the one I’d call for help?
But he’s not that guy anymore, that’s for damn sure.
Part of me hoped he’d be there when I went back to the club that second time. Did he feel the same way? Is that why he showed up there? Do I have two fucking stalkers?
I scrub a hand down the front of my face and scrunch up my nose when I see the splotches of color streaked across my skin. My makeup. I never took it off before falling into bed at whatever godforsaken hour I rolled in.
His words explode like bullets in my mind, and my chest tightens as I recall his forceful grip on my body. How dare he lay a finger on me when he gave up that right when he walked out on me? And why did he want me out of that club so badly, anyway? It wasn’t like he or his family owned the damn place. Why would he care if I was out having a drink with a friend?
I’m not his concern anymore. He made that crystal clear, multiple times.
And I certainly don’t need a keeper.
There. At least that’s one thing I don’t need.
My skin prickles, the memory of his hard, muscular body pinning me to the wall making my insides radiate with warmth and desire. Goddammit! I am a serious head-case. That jackass bully has my panties damp and clinging to me. As angry as I am, there’s no denying the yearning that bubbles to the surface whenever he’s near. His intoxicating scent, his sinful lips, his half-hooded gaze.
Sweet Jesus, I need a cold shower.
And some makeup remover.
I grit my teeth and slam my clenched fists on the mattress. I do not have feelings for that douche-nozzle! I do not find him attractive or desirable! I do not want to feel his devious fingers trailing across my flushed body!
All of his delicious qualities vanished when he rejected me. Xander died that night, and a new asshole emerged from the ashes like a phoenix straight out of hell’s gates.
I let out a loud groan and stick a pillow over my face, screaming into it.
Maybe if I keep repeating that bullshit mantra, I’ll start to believe it.
I slide out of my bed and trudge into the bathroom in my princess suite, squinting at the bright white marble as the lights illuminate the space.
I throw my hair into a messy bun, remove my smeared makeup, and brush my teeth.
I’m still clinging to the hope that a shower will help.
But as the cold spray washes over me and all of my remorse and regrets, I realize it doesn’t.
Nothing can help the overwhelming feeling of dread and loathing that has plagued me for years, but I still try. Being sent away from my home without a reason, when the only person who I thought I could count on was still here, sent me off the deep end. I felt pain all the time. Loss has been such a big part of my life since Andrew died, and only Xander had been able to fill that void. My parents retreated into their own worlds after the accident that claimed him, their relationship total and complete bullshit. They think they can hide behind a façade of money and things, but I see through it all. They fell apart. We all fell apart. And then they tore us apart. I hate them for it, for not caring about the one child they still had, for shipping me off and ruining everything good in my life.
I rub my temples and turn the shower handle off. I know I shouldn’t have taken those pills last night. I never should have started taking anything in the first place, but boarding school was lonely, scary, and not the kind of adventure I was prepared for as a teenager. All I wanted to do was fit in, and in London the crowd I was fitting in with partied. Hard. It wasn’t all bad, though. The drugs and alcohol helped make me forget the dark cloud that loomed over me so I could feel normal for a little while...until the comedown. It’s always damn awful, something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
No, I take that back. I would wish it on my worst—Xander. He’s the one who should feel like shit this morning for acting like such a deranged jerk last night.
I step out of the glass enclosure and wrap myself in one of the plush, monogrammed towels my mother insists on me using. The fibers scratch my damp skin. Ugh. I hate coming down. Everything sucks.
As if it didn’t already.
I look around my bedroom...really look. It’s all so familiar and foreign at the same time. All of the memories staring back at me from the photos on my dresser and walls were so far into the past that they didn’t feel like my own. I was there for all of them. The pictures prove it. But I’ve plunged into so much murk since those happier times that I can’t actually recall the happiness I felt.
Ear-to-ear smiles, flanked on both sides by Andrew and Xander, my two biggest fans, not a care in the world until both of them were yanked from my life.
But as I look at those images now, I feel nothing but numb…my heart and my soul.
My shoulders slump forward, turning away from my past life. I need caffeine. But coffee means I have to go downstairs. Where they are. God, I have so much to say to my parents...so much that’s been festering...but why would they bother listening to me now, of all times, when they never have before? I don’t want to see them. And I definitely don’t want to deal with my father’s wrath. A night to sleep on it would make other people mellow out, but not Charles Hawthorne. Time to mull things over only makes him more irate.
Sucking in a deep breath, with my robe cinched tightly around my waist, I head for the stairs. Taking them one at a time to avoid creaks, I hold my breath, listening for voices. But the house is quiet.
Where is everyone?
And how did I get so lucky?
Usually at this godforsaken hour, Moira is cooking breakfast in the kitchen watching the news, while my parents are in the parlor reading the paper in silence.
It’s always silent now.
No conversation.
No laughter.
No sign that a family actually cohabitates here.
Because we sure as hell don’t live together.
The kitchen is a ghost town. But since I’m a glutton for punishment, I wander through the house toward my father’s office. The door is open a crack, light creeping into the hallway, and the thunderous roar of my father’s voice means he’s on the warpath about something.
I jump when his fist lands with a hard thump on the mahogany desk.
Oh, yeah. He’s pissed off about something. Although, since rage is his preferred way of communicating, it’s hard to say whether or not it’s something big.
“That is not what I want to hear, Jessup! You better bring me some better news before the day is done, or your days at Hawthorne Industries will be numbered. Do I make myself crystal clear?”
Jessup, I don’t know who you are, but you’re screwed.
He slams down the phone before letting out a bellowing growl.
Great. Of course I’m the only one in this house right now. A target for his rage.
I try to scurry away without being spotted, but he’s now standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.
He clears his throat to make his presence known. But he doesn’t need to. I can feel his fury from miles away.
Think of something to say. Anything! Any reason why I’m over here!
I spin on my heels, shoving my hands into the deep pockets of my fluffy robe. “I was just coming to find you to apologize for yesterday.” The words come out of my throat like choked gasps.
“Is that so?” His brow quirks, his deep voice suspicious as he inches toward me. He has a pretty imposing frame — tall, wide shoulders, muscular chest. Intimidation personified.
I nod, any other explanation that might save my ass right now completely evading me.
“Don’t think I didn’t see him loitering when I came to the school yesterday,” he hisses, his face twisting into a grimace.
“See w-who?” I ask, knowing full well who him is.
“Do not let me find out that you’re tangled up with him again, Lottie, or there will be consequences. Serious ones.�
�� Dad’s eyes narrow to slits. “He’s no good for you or for our family. I’m warning you once again to stay far away from him.”
My jaw drops. I didn’t expect this. And something tells me I shouldn’t let my father in on the fact that Xander has made it his personal quest to make me suffer.
Maybe I should tell my father. He’d make Xander pay.
And maybe Dad and I would actually be on the same side for once.
But as tempting as it is, I keep my comments in check. “He had nothing to do with it, Dad.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“I haven’t even spoken to him since I’ve been back.”
He steps closer. “If I find out you’re lying to me,” he starts, his threat hanging in the air between us.
“I’m not,” I say. “I don’t want anything to do with him ever again.”
Dad’s lips lift slightly, as if he’s just won. He always freaking does. “Good. And make sure I never get called away from a meeting because of any bullshit at school. You lived on your own for a while. Find your way at Ridgeview.”
“Yes, sir.” My own words betray me. I hate that I cower to this man, but the last time I tried to stand up to him, I got shipped off to another continent. So why bother anymore?
From out of nowhere, Rolland appears and rushes to my father’s side.
“Sir,” he huffs, out of breath. “Someone has defaced your car!”
Shit.
My eyes grow wide as my father’s face turns a disturbing shade of red. From the look of panic on Rolland’s face, I can tell this is not going to be good. What could have happened to the car? It looked fine when I parked it last night!
“What do you mean defaced?” my father bellows, towering over our quivering valet.
“Someone scratched the word ‘Puppet’ into the paint of the trunk,” Rolland explains. “I already called the dealership and scheduled a restoration appointment for this afternoon. They will have it ready in a few days. I’ll take it over there myself in an hour.”
My knees wobble, and I grab the wall to steady myself. Only one person would do something like that, and the obviousness of that slanderous nickname is a dead giveaway.
Rooted in place, my entire body trembles. It was him.
“Charlotte? Do you know anything about this?” My father stomps over to me, grabbing my upper arm harder than necessary.
I blink quickly, shaking my head. “How could I?” I rasp.
“So if I have the dealership check the computer on my car, it would show that it was safely in the garage all night?” His hot breath lands on my face. Dammit! Is that even a thing? Can they really track everywhere those damn cars go? Fuck my life!
I swallow hard. I have no idea if I should call his bluff or not. It has to be a bluff, right?
“I didn’t do anything to your car!” I insist, my voice quivering.
Other than drive it to a club and then home after I got ambushed by Xander Iazetti.
But I wasn’t going to tip my hand that quickly.
“You’re trying to tell me someone broke into the locked and alarmed garage, carved ‘Puppet’ into the trunk, and didn’t stay to deface anything else, let alone steal anything?”
“Dad, I swear. I didn’t do anything to your car. I wouldn’t!” I haven’t even been home a week. How could everything be going to hell already?
He leans in close, sneering at me. My fingers itch to punch that furious expression right off his face, but I stand down. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, Lottie, I promise you that.” He puts his hands on my shoulders, the smell of stale coffee making my stomach roil. “But if I find out that you had a hand in this, you’ll wish you were still in London.”
Ha! Too late! I do wish I was still in London.
Mission accomplished, Dad.
* * *
Who would have thought that I would be happy repainting my locker? Anything to get me out of that damn house as fast as humanly possible.
As I drag the brush over the final offensive letter, the first bell rings. Students flood the hallway in seconds, most of them snickering as they pass. I really don’t need this crap. I’ve been gone for over a year, and all of a sudden, I’m back and being slut-shamed because some asshole has a grudge.
An asshole I used to love.
The anger rages deep within me. Having to clean up Xander’s mess pisses me off, but he won’t have the last word. Especially after what he pulled last night.
I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask for any of it. All I wanted was for my parents to actually pay attention to me, for my best friend to love me back. Instead, I was cast aside and unceremoniously yanked back to some weird hell that some call prep school.
Nothing here can prep me for what’s to become of my life.
“You can cover over it as much as you want, but there aren’t enough coats of paint that can hide who you really are, slut,” a mousy voice cackles from behind me.
I whip around, the paint brush still clutched in my hand. “What the fuck is your problem?” I grit my teeth, toe to toe with the girl whom Xander was sucking face with the other day. I give her a quick once-over. She’s got a good body, one that’s pouring out of the top and bottom of her uniform. But her smug face makes me cringe. What in the world does Xander see in this loose-pussy hooker?
“You’re my problem, slut,” she seethes, narrowing her dark eyes at me. “Why don’t you just get your ass back on a plane to Bumfuck, Egypt, or wherever the hell you came from? No one wants your nasty ass around here, anyway.” She flashes a fake, toothy grin. “Including Xander. He’s moved onto greener, more fuckable pastures.”
“Screw you, you dick-sucking trash,” I bellow, shoving her away from me. I was not about to take lip from Xander’s fuck-toy of the month.
She stumbles backward, her eyes blazing. “He doesn’t want you. He told me all about how worthless he thinks you are. How pathetic you’ve always been. A spineless little puppet that can never stand up for herself.” The skanky bitch sticks her hands on her hips, her lips pursing into a sneer.
“You can have him. Whores and douchebags tend to live happily-ever-after, don’t they? Oh, wait, he is just using you for the warm holes and gaping throat, or so I’ve been told.” I cock my head to the side. “Right?”
“You fucking cunt!” she yells, lunging for me.
Grabbing her hair with my free hand, I rake the paint brush down the side of her cheek and continue over the front of her half-buttoned shirt, streaking over the tops of her exposed tits. I work the brush until it forms a dark A.
“Don’t mess with someone who has nothing to lose.” I growl at her.
“Ahhhh!” she yells, grabbing my shoulder with her talon-like claws. Her left fist connects with my jaw, and a fierce, stinging sensation explodes into my cheek.
Game on, bitch!
I toss the paint brush to the floor, tearing at her long hair and pulling out her extensions. I let them fall to the floor, and her eyes go absolutely wild. I launch my fist back and clock her right in the nose. Blood gushes from her nose and she covers her face with her hands, her shrieks piercing the air.
I allow myself a satisfied smile. The gray ‘A’ is now bright scarlet.
Now, that’s damn poetic.
“What in the fuck!” Xander’s arms grab both of us, ripping us apart from our impromptu cat fight. “Charlotte, Melina! Stop!”
Trying to catch my breath, I shrug out of Xander’s grip.
“Tell your bitch of a lap dog to leave me the fuck alone.” I scream at him. My teeth clench, my fists balled and ready to pummel.
“Xander,” Melina paws at him like a pitiful child, holding a hand over her nose. “I was only trying to be nice to her. She attacked me!”
“I’ll deal with you in a minute. Go clean yourself up, for Christ’s sake,” he snarls at her. His voice hitches as he glares hard at her disheveled body.
Scampering off with tears flooding her eyes, Melina ducks into the girl
s’ bathroom down the hall.
But before she disappears inside, she flashes me an evil smirk coupled with her middle finger. I have a number of places I’d like to tell her where to stick it, too.
A few teachers make their way down the hall until Xander stops them dead in their tracks with a look.
One pointed glare sends these people running in the opposite direction.
What in the hell have I missed?
“You’re really causing problems here, Puppet,” Xander creeps forward, closing the space between us. He backs me into the lockers, but lucky for me, I avoid my own wet one.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I churn my jaw. “I think it’s you who’s causing all of the fucking problems, jerkoff.”
“Jerkoff,” he chuckles. “Is that the best you can do?” His voice turns husky as he presses himself against me like he did at the club. He clearly doesn’t care that everyone in the hallway is staring at us.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I mumble, making a half-hearted attempt to shove him away. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.” But he still doesn’t budge. He doubles me in weight and mass, easily, and he obviously has his own agenda.
“You need to be more careful, Puppet. You’re going to find yourself in one hell of a mess if you don’t. Your daddy’s precious car will be the least of your worries if you don’t start listening to me.” His warning is calculated as his lips dance right against my ear, and my bitch of a body betrays me yet again, melting into him like he’s the chocolate and I’m the marshmallow in a delicious s’mores sandwich. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest and it’s fast and furious.
Just like mine.
This has to be affecting him.
Argh! I don’t care if it is! I shouldn’t care! Why the fuck do I care?
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, I run things around here. I have eyes everywhere, Puppet. I know everything you do. Everywhere you go. Everyone you hang out with. You’d better stay in line and stay far away from that club, otherwise I’ll yank those fucking strings again, do you hear me?”
“You don’t own me, Xander. You can’t tell me what to fucking do!”
Puppet: Ridgeview Prep Book 1 Page 9
