You're To Blame 2: A High School Bully Romance (Haven Saints High)

by Brooke Jordan

  “Maybe you forgot how far you’re willing to go for love because grandmother died years ago. But I would do anything to make Chelsea happy.”

  “Then you’d be willing to run our empire and produce heirs that will carry on our name. Your children will grow up and run this company too. Your father knew that before you boys were born. Not sure when he went all liberal, but I won’t stand for it.” He shot out of his chair.

  “Five suits await you in your quarters. Monday the chauffeur will drive you to the office. The remainder of the week, you’ll engage with the staff. You will begin working at Forrester enterprises June first of next year. Get your rest. You have a long week ahead of you.”

  He turned on his heels and vacated the dining room.

  “Fuck,” I roared, shoving away from the table.

  Why did I come here? I darted out of the patio doors. Turning my face to the sky, I exhaled. The night sky was riddled with stars. I wished Chelsea and I could lie under the stars at the lake house. I was a bitter asshole for so long. Holding her in my arms would bring me peace. Why did grandfather mention Chelsea’s family empire? She made it clear she didn’t ask her grandfather for anything. I was sure the only luxury she’d be willing to utilize was the jet. Was grandfather, right? I’ve indulged in the finer things in life for so long, if I didn’t have my family’s resources at my fingertips, would I be able to survive?

  I peered into the distance. I’d try. Chelsea didn’t give a shit about the money. She only cared we’d be together.

  Sunday, I studied for two exams I’d make up once I returned home. I spoke to Chelsea. Didn’t make sense to alarm her. I had no intention to run the company.

  My jaw twitched continuously on my drive into the office. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t saying I didn’t feed on power. Almost everyone did. I fed off a different kind of power. The energy from the crowd always gave me strength. I’d play grandfathers game this week. Once I returned home, I’d make arrangements to purchase a condo in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The moment graduation was over, Chelsea and I would hop on a plane and start our new life. Grandfather couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TATE

  Strolling around the huge, cherry wood table in the massive conference room, I shook several hands before taking a seat at the head of the table. I flipped through balance sheets and documents to solidify acquisitions of smaller corporations. I scanned our stock portfolio. My eyes bulged at the two companies I was familiar with, Stutton Oil Industry and Brauner Trading. The legal documents mentioned Mason’s heirs with Marisa and Chelsea. Why would their names be mentioned with my dead brother’s? What the fuck was going on? It appeared to be some sort of deal he worked out with Chelsea’s grandfather and Marisa’s father once the children were born. I needed to ask grandfather myself. Were they to have Mason’s children if he would have lived? If so, how the fuck could they use their great grandchildren and grandchildren for their own personal gain.

  I remember Rocco mentioned Marisa was in London often. Her presence here didn’t add up.

  THAT EVENING, I PONDERED on all the information I evaluated. Grandfather wasn’t home. He traveled to Covington for an overnight business trip. This better not had been some sort of stall tactic.

  Chelsea and I spoke again. I promised I’d be home in time for the game Friday night.

  Tuesday morning, I scanned more financial documents. I asked each board member to weigh in about the longevity of the company.

  “We are spending tons of money to acquire small companies. I’ll talk to my father and see if we can hold off on any of the future acquisitions. We are bleeding money.”

  I didn’t need a business degree to run our corporation. Dad had taken me into the office several times over the last two years. I was also enrolled in advanced accounting and other pre college courses. Haven Saints High prepared us to run our families billion-dollar companies. Grandfather was on the school board. As long as I performed well in my studies, he never complained about football—until now.

  I flipped through more documents.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  The door slammed shut.

  The tiny hairs stood on the back of my neck. Palming my hands on the table, my chest heaved. What was this some sort of sick joke? I peered across the room. A flush of heat shot through my body.

  “It can’t be.” I staggered to my feet. My eyes narrowed.

  “Give us the room, please,” he ordered.

  Hands in his pockets, he sauntered toward me.

  I blinked a couple of times, then the room was empty. He and I stood, staring at each other in silence. Or should I say, I was silent?

  “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” He smoothed his hand over his black tie.

  “Yeah. First the obvious question. How are you alive?”

  He flashed his pearly whites. “We haven’t seen each other in years. I miss you.” He wrapped his arms around me. I barely hugged him back. A million questions ran through my brain.

  I pushed him back. “How, Mason?”

  “Grandfather spent a lot of money nursing me back to health.” He paced the floor.

  My hand flew over my brow. “The team of doctors. Grandfather spoke to me in the hallway outside of your hospital room. He told me everything would be ok. I thought he just said that to put my mind at ease.” I braced my palms on the table again, desperately trying to wrap my mind around the magnitude of this moment.

  “Yes, the doctors were able to keep me alive. Another child died on that same floor. Grandfather paid that family to bury their child in my grave. They were pleased to be free of the funeral expenses. Grandfather persuaded mom and dad to have a closed casket. He said a child shouldn’t be displayed after death. They agreed. Once I regained consciousness, I had to learn how to talk all over again. The moment I felt rejuvenated, I set my plan in motion.”

  “Marisa. That explains why she traveled to London often.”

  “Yeah, she loved me. I loved Chelsea.” He flashed a sneaky grin.

  “Love will make you do the strangest things.”

  I walked in circles. “Mason, please tell me after all these years you still aren't holding a torch for Chelsea?”

  His eyes darkened, and he banged his fist on the table. “I am not holding a torch. I told you that day we fought Chelsea will never be yours.”

  “This is bullshit. You stay away from my woman. I can’t believe you’ve held this sick obsession over a girl who doesn’t want to be with you. Mason, Chelsea is in love with me. She is my girlfriend and next summer she’ll become my wife,” I snarled, pointing my finger at him.

  He tilted his head to the side and grinned again. “Didn’t you read the documents, brother?” he stepped closer.

  “Marisa and Chelsea will bore my heirs.” He stuck out his chest and raised his chin in the air.

  I shoved him back. “Mason, you will not touch my woman. I will bury you for real this time,” I growled through gritted teeth.

  A ridiculous, hysterical laugh erupted from his throat. “Tate, accept defeat. I will impregnate Marisa. Then I will pretend to be you.”

  I grabbed his tie and punched him in his rock-solid jaw. He held his face. “Won’t stop me from getting what I want. Chelsea will become my wife and bore my heir, even if it has to be over your dead body.” His blue eyes narrowed.

  I lost it. Saw fucking red. My fist slammed into his face again. We tussled around the room. He grabbed my suit jacket pulling me close. “These decisions have to be made by the stronger brother. You are so wrapped up in stupid football, you can’t let that shit go and run our family’s empire. You said it. We are bleeding money, Tate. These heirs will secure our financial future. Chelsea’s grandfather’s ready to sign the papers. The moment I impregnate Marisa, Mr. Brauner will be on board too.”

  “You think I will stand by and let you marry my girlfriend? There’s no fucking way.”

  I stalked toward the do
or. Two burly guys entered pinning me against the table.

  “Let me go.” I struggled to break free.

  “You see, Tate I had a long time to set my plan in motion. I know your life inside and out. Every car at home was bugged. Your bedroom was bugged.” He leaned over. “Your cleaning crew worked for me.” He raised his finger. “I can’t wait for Chelsea to moan for me louder and come harder for me than she did for you,” he snickered.

  “Motherfucker,” I roared, jerking my arms, lunging toward him. I wanted to bash his face in until it cracked.

  “You fucking, bastard. You will never get away with this.”

  “Oh, but I will. Friday, I will successfully tank your football career. I’ll end the night deep inside my woman,” he chuckled.

  “Let me go,” I growled.

  “Take him to his hole,” Mason ordered.

  ∞

  Every day, I sat in an underground dungeon at our family estate. The only reason I knew it existed, is because Mason and I went exploring and stumbled upon it. Probably dated back to the sixteen-hundreds. No need to yell. I was so far underground no one would hear me. All I could do was study the guards routines and listen to their conversations. I was allowed to shower at gunpoint. There wasn’t any privacy. I dressed in front of them and was escorted back to my cell. No luxury. I had a place to lay my head, a toilet, and a sink. If I was never getting out of this hell hole why allow me fresh clothes?

  Lying on the twin mattress, I closed my eyes. Mold and ancient dirt hit my nostrils. I often pulled my shirt over my nose, so I didn’t have to inhale the toxins.

  “Tate, how are you enjoying your stay?”

  A guard placed a chair in front of my cell and he sat, smiling.

  My jaw ticked. I wanted to slip my hand through the rusty bars and strangle him. A guard stood beside him pointing his gun at me.

  “What do you want? To gloat? Your lacky is out bearing his fucking seed in my girlfriend.” I bit my lower lip. “You sick motherfucker,” I growled.

  “Manners, Tate. If I thought you’d get on board, we wouldn’t have needed to go to such extreme measures.”

  “Right, you wanted me to be ok with lying to my girlfriend about why I needed to impregnate her. Baby, sorry we need to rush into marriage and have a baby. My family is on the brink of financial ruins. Your grandfather’s a billionaire. He can bail us out of our financial down turn. Yeah, I love her too much to lie to Chelsea. My woman’s smart, he won’t be able to pull the wool over her eyes for long.”

  He laughed. “You are right. She’s a smart girl. She detected Mason. But it didn’t put a cramp in our plan. Mason threatened to kill you and she fell in line. She’s agreed to marry Mason and bear his child. The wedding will be here of course.” He stood.

  “Grandson, you get to live another day.” He dusted off his navy slacks and turned on his heels.

  I ignored him. Propping my arms under my head, I laid back staring at the corroded ceiling.

  The day of the wedding, I’d put my escape plan in motion. I’d take my woman back no matter what.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHELSEA

  The twins and I sat on the sofa watching a classic holiday movie. Cinnamon and pine filled the air. Melissa’s home was professionally decorated. Me and mom decorated the interior of our house. Dad hired a company to display the lights in our yard. There wasn’t a nativity scene on our lawn like the Forrester’s. They spared no expense around the Christmas holidays.

  Rapid footsteps pounded the stairs.

  “Carson and Emma, Happy Thanksgiving.” He grinned.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Tate,” they shouted.

  He scooped up Carson and sat him on the other side of me.

  “Hey?” His little brows wrinkled.

  “Sorry, little man, this is my spot.” He sat on the sofa next to me. He looked handsome in the heather gray cashmere sweater. The navy dress shirt peeked out the top. I almost forgot he was the devil and not Tate. My heart sank. Tate had been gone for weeks. This holiday sucked. I didn’t feel like being amongst our families. Lying in bed would have sufficed. Emma and Carson served as a nice distraction. I could use them as an excuse not to be alone with him. He slipped his arm around my shoulder and nuzzled my hair.

  “You smell good, Chelsea.”

  My body shook against him. I wished I could run and never look back.

  “Dinner is served,” the chef announced.

  My heart beat again. Thank god.

  Mason intertwined our fingers and escorted me into the dining room. Emma and Carson rushed to their seats.

  Our parents sat amongst us clutching their wine glasses.

  “May I have everyone’s attention?” Mason’s deep voice bounced off the walls.

  “You have the floor son,” Brian smiled.

  Mason held my hand and dropped to one knee.

  “Chelsea, I am so happy to have you back in my life. I never thought I’d get this chance.”

  Sure, you didn’t, snake.

  “You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

  The fake plastic smile filled my lips. “Yes, Tate.”

  He slid the oval diamond onto my finger. Cheering erupted around the room.

  Mason swung me around and kissed my lips. I was so tired of faking it.

  Our mothers asked Mason and I several questions halfway through dinner.

  “Chelsea, do you have any idea when you’ll tie the knot?”

  “Melissa, yes. Christmas.” I smiled from ear to ear.

  “In London.”

  Dad choked on the turkey breast.

  “Are you ok, Dad? Why, should we wait?” I peeked at Mason, rubbing his hand. “Right, Tate?”

  He could barely muster a smile he was so upset. Yup, I threw a monkey wrench in his plan. I needed to save the real Tate. This farce had gone on long enough.

  “Where do you two plan to live?” Mom asked.

  “In London.” Mason was all teeth. Asshole.

  “What?” Mom screeched.

  “Chelsea will attend Oxford University while I run our London office.”

  Brian’s eyes bulged.

  “Tate, wait a minute. You said you talked to your grandfather, and you two reached an understanding.”

  “We did. I told him I’d be happy to run the company.”

  “Tate, before you left you said you wouldn’t back down. I told you I was proud of you for standing on your own two feet.”

  I laughed inside. Brian knew Tate would never back down. But he also didn’t know Tate wasn’t the son sitting before him, it was Mason. Standing to my feet and shouting Mason is alive, oh would feel good right about now. I also knew if I didn’t step in Tate might lose his life.

  “Brian, Tate, and I discussed it. We feel this is the best move for our family.”

  Oh, did I let that tidbit slip?

  Dad jumped up. “Is Chelsea pregnant? You two can’t start a family now.”

  Brain held dad back. I swear he was about to climb across the table and kill my fiancé.

  “Dad, I am not pregnant. I am just saying this will be best for our family. Tate and I are a family until we one day have a child.”

  Our fathers sat gulping their wine.

  “Tate, if you don’t want to move to London you can tell me. I will talk to my dad.”

  Mason grabbed my hand. “We are fine.”

  The servers placed the dessert on the table. We dug in. Silence fell around the table.

  “Mom, please don’t schedule surgeries around my wedding date. You have to be there.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, honey.”

  “Chelsea, are we allowed at your wedding?”

  “Emma, of course. I need you to be my flower girl. And Carson, you can be my ring bearer.”

  “Yay,” they chimed.

  Melissa didn’t suspect anything off about fake Tate. She gave birth to the boys. Wouldn’t she be able to tell them apart? Maybe she did, but didn’t know what to say to her
son.

  We played charades and Candyland. The night was perfect minus fake Tate. What was it like for Mason being around his parents? I ran to the kitchen to grab a soda.

  “Are you all right?” My heart lurched, and I gripped my chest.

  “Yes, you didn’t have to scare me.”

  He closed the space between us. “You didn’t have to tell our parents about us starting a family.”

  “Shouldn’t they know? They will be grandparents next year.”

  “You’re getting a kick out of all of this.”

  “I sure am.” My southern accent shined through.

  “Your dad was behind you to go pro. I guess you didn’t know that important detail. Do you know how much your family misses you?”

  His brow wrinkled. “They don’t miss me.”

  “Yes, they do. Come on.” We joined our families in the living room.

  “Tate, honey light your candle.” His mom nodded him over.

  He hesitated.

  “Go on, Tate.” I pushed him toward the oversized mantel.

  Brian kissed Melissa on the forehead and gripped his son’s shoulder.

  I stood in dad’s arms. Mom clutched my hand, and the twins fidgeted in front of us.

  “Mason, we will never forget you, son,” Brian’s voice wavered.

  “We miss you so much. There isn’t a day that goes by we don’t think about you,” Melissa sniffled.

  She peeked at her son. “It’s all right. Go on, Tate.”

  “Mason, I miss hanging out with you. You were my best friend. I love you,” his voice cracked.

  They each lit a candle, honoring Mason.

  Maybe the annual holiday remembrance would soften the beast’s heart.

  Mason turned and reached for my hand.

  Melissa swiped at the tears and cranked up the holiday music. The twins jumped around. Our parents huddled together sipping spiked eggnog.