Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1)

by Winston, Lexie

  "Happy now?” I ask him, using sarcasm as a shield for how unsettled his “visit” has made me. "Let’s add battery and sexual assault to your list of offenses, now shall we? Well, Jaxon, I will tell you, you're making my mother look like a real peach now. She might have abused me, but she never sexually assaulted me."

  He blanches at my accusations, and his face pales even further, which is an amazing effort with his lily-white skin. His eyes roam my naked body, pausing at both the junction of my thighs and level with my breasts. By the time his eyes meet mine, the bulge in the front of his jeans gives away that he likes what he sees. But the words that escape that mouth cut to the quick as surely as any blade.

  "How much would you have charged me, Harlow, that night at the club? A man likes to know these things up front, not after."

  With a step forward, I crack my hand across his cheek and growl at him, "Get out! You make me sick!"

  He puts his hand in his pocket, not even rubbing his now red cheek. Sauntering out of the room, he takes one final shot. "Let me know when you decide. With that banging body, it might be worth a few dollars to have a go." I pick up a lamp off the bedside table and throw it in his direction, but in my anger, it hits the wall next to the door, nowhere near him, and crashes to the floor; luckily, the carpet muffles the sound.

  Picking up my towel, I forget the moisturizer and quickly put on my clothes for bed in case I get any more unexpected visitors. My sobs echo through the bathroom as I leave the towel in the same place as my dirty clothes. I’ll worry about them in the morning. I’m too upset to do anything now.

  Throwing back the quilt on the bed, I climb underneath and pull it up and over my shoulders. My body and mind are a riot of feelings. My body is turned on by the touch of him and the look in his eyes, but my mind feels ill. His words are a vicious lash of innuendo and speculation, cruel taunts that hit a direct bullseye. Fury overwhelms any other feeling, and my body tenses, the roiling anger driving me to shake. How dare he compare me to that woman. He knows nothing! Spoiled, pampered little prince wouldn't know what it was like to live like I did.

  I toss and turn for what feels like hours, my mind creating scenarios in my head, playing them out and giving me options. How I could have responded, and what I would do next time something like that happened. I should have just kneed him in the junk, but with my luck, I would have only aggravated my ligaments and done no damage to him.

  Finally, I can't stand it any longer. Although my mind has calmed, my body is wound tighter than a grandfather clock. Rolling over, I pull the bullet vibrator out of the drawer and bring it under the quilt. I shove it down my pants to rest on my clit, running it through the wetness that coats my pussy lips before turning it on at a gentle speed.

  I almost hate myself when my mind goes to Jaxon’s strong arms wrapped around me, his hand against my mouth and then around my throat. The almost possessive squeeze of his hand and the memory of the violence in his voice causes me to tremble with want. As worked up as I already am, the vibrator doesn’t take long to get me to where I need, and as I shudder through the explosion that sets fire to all my nerve endings, it's Jaxon's fucking name that leaves my lips.

  Panting through the final waves, I wipe away the sweaty tendrils of hair that have settled on my face before I get up, walking to the bathroom. There, I wipe over the bullet with a cloth, which also joins the clothes on the floor, before returning it to my drawer in the bedroom. Finally feeling relaxed for the first time since coming back from dinner, I’m ready to head to bed when scratching at the door has me opening it and looking out. Not seeing anyone, I’ve gone to close it when something soft brushes past my bare legs. Looking down, I discover Princess, who moves into the room and sits in front of the bed looking at it patiently.

  Closing the door behind her, I move to where she is, carefully pick her up, and place her on the bed. She proceeds to stalk back and forth across the foot of the bed until I climb in and lay down. It was like she was waiting for me to get comfortable because as soon as my head hits the pillow, she comes up to the head of the bed and curls up on the other side, closes her eyes, and starts to purr. The sound is a gentle soundtrack that eases me into oblivion with not a care in the world. Or not too many, anyway.

  JAXON

  THE THUD AGAINST THE wall as I leave Harlow's room has a feral grin crossing my face. Heading back to our wing of the house, I make my way to my bathroom. Quickly shedding my clothes, I turn on the shower and hop in, wrapping my hand around my throbbing cock.

  Imagine my surprise when the woman I haven't been able to get out of my head turns out to be my father's biological daughter. What are the odds? Pretty fucking slim, I would think. My anger makes my grip harder and my strokes rough, and that makes the pleasure so much better. Groaning, I think about the luscious naked body that she didn’t attempt to hide from my sight. That body was made for sin. Long, lean muscles on her legs, arms, and stomach made feminine by rounded hips and lush perky breasts with pebbled nipples that made my mouth water. And to see her bare pussy...I just about said fuck it all and took her there against the wall. The way she responded to my hand at her throat, the glaze of desire in her eyes when she turned and defiantly faced me. She was like a goddess.

  Furious with myself and my body’s reactions, I set a punishing pace, and it's not long before that familiar tingling flows through my body as my balls tighten. Cum explodes, painting the shower walls, my knees buckling at the intensity while I moan Harlow’s name as she smirks at me from inside my mind. Putting my other hand against the wall to hold myself upright, I slowly stroke to extend the pleasure, the sensation bordering between pleasure and pain, causing shivers to wrack my body.

  Groaning, I think about her. My disappointment when she’d had that emergency that night was the strongest it had been in ages. I don't get attached to women. They're useful to relieve some tension, but then I send them on their way, so they don't become too attached. All of us boys have learned our lessons about clingy women. Or the ones who want to cause tension in the family. Or the ones who are jealous of Jacinta.

  We've just altogether learned it's easier not to get attached, but Harlow had been different. I thought she’d had no clue who I was. I thought we’d had a genuine connection. But she truly played me perfectly. And then for her to accuse me of sexual assault was like a knife being driven straight into my heart. Fuck! Scrubbing my hand through my hair, the tiles are cold where I lean back against them, disgusted with myself. Comparing me and her mother was a low blow, but I’m pretty sure I deserved it after letting my temper get the better of me. There’s just something about her that makes me feel so much... anger.

  Banging my fist against the tiles, I stand upright, washing myself and turning off the shower. Grabbing a towel, I dry myself before climbing into my bed naked.

  When Dad had announced that a biological daughter had been discovered, I can’t say that the shriveled up tiny bit of doubt that we’d all held when we were first adopted hadn’t reared its ugly head. That doubt that made us question if the situation was too good to be true after so many rejected foster homes.

  But Nana, Poppy, and Dad had squashed the doubt almost as soon as we’d all been brought home. They made us feel wanted and loved for the first time in our short lives, and not once had that doubt ever risen its head again until her. But now that little noxious feeling is like a small flame caught by a gentle breeze, slowly being fanned into something more.

  My sister has been particularly affected. She's “daddy's little girl,” and now there's another one coming into the picture. Jacinta and Dad are so similar in many ways. Both of them share a love of horses, and both are homebodies, preferring to stay at home and read rather than socialize with fake self-important people. She’d just gone to Fashion Week, solely because of her business responsibilities, and usually needs a week to decompress after an event like that. Quite often, when we’re home, you can find them curled up in the library, Jacinta knitting her latest sweater, D
ad reading a book or working on something for the business. No words are needed; they just like each other's company. But this new announcement has thrown her for a loop, and she is not reacting well.

  I have a feeling tomorrow is not going to be particularly pleasant for Harlow, and an admittedly evil grin crosses my face at that thought. Though there is that kernel of doubt, the one that took root when she claimed that her mom had died only after we'd met. Is she telling me the truth, or is it a convenient lie? Nana sure ripped us a new one earlier, and if her words are correct, then maybe Harlow’s are also. But I just can’t bring myself to trust in them. I can’t let that sway me. I need to stay the course and teach Harlow what it’s like to try and make a fool out of a Summers man. She’s not going to know what hit her. With that promise to myself, I roll over, plump my pillows, and wait for sleep to take me away from my confused mind

  Chapter Fourteen

  Harlow

  I’d set my alarm for the next morning, but it hasn't even gone off when my door slamming open startles both me and Princess. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of designer jeans, heels, and some fancy wraparound top that shows her body to perfection, is Jacinta. If she had a pair of wings, she could be a warrior angel out of one of my paranormal romance books with the fierce scowl she has on her face.

  Her eyes widen in surprise when she spots Princess. "What’s she doing in here?" she snaps, pointing at the cat.

  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up in bed, peering at her with blurry vision. "Fucking hell! What time is it?" She doesn't answer; she just starts to tap her foot against the floor impatiently. Oh, right, the cat. "She scratched on my door not long after I went to bed, so I let her in."

  "Declan’s going to be pissed. He’s been looking for her all night." Princess gets up and stretches her body, kneading at the blankets, before she walks over and headbutts me for some attention. I give her ears a little rub before she saunters to the end of the bed and leaps to the ground. Tail in the air, she walks past Jacinta, who reaches down to pat her. Instead of the warm greeting I got, Princess hisses and swipes at her hand, narrowly missing her. Jacinta quickly pulls her hand back, a surprised squeak leaving her lips.

  "What did you do to that cat?" She looks accusingly at me like I’ve somehow tainted her precious brother’s pet. I snort, throwing back the blankets. "Jacinta, I am many things, but bewitching a cat is beyond even my capabilities. Have you ever thought she’s just hormonal due to carrying around a belly full of babies?" Climbing out of bed, I stretch my tired body and test the limits of my knee today. It feels better, so I'm going to leave the crutches behind. One less way to stick out like a sore thumb.

  She eyes me like I’m a science experiment that she doesn't want to do, equal parts disdain, disgust, and judgment. "Well, hurry up! We’re going to be late." Crossing her arms, she leans against the door frame, obviously prepared to wait right there for me.

  "I guess it's lucky I showered last night,” I mutter to myself before asking her. "How come we're starting so early? I was under the impression we weren't leaving until nine."

  I reach for the bedside table where I’d placed my phone when I'd plugged it in to charge overnight. Messages from Max continue to flash across the screen, even though the sound has been muted. If I dont ring her today and give her an update she may fly over here herself. Maybe I won't mention what happened between Jaxon and me, though.

  A throat clearing behind me draws my attention. Oh, right, clothes. Unplugging and throwing my phone in my backpack, I open a drawer and grab a pair of ripped jeans and a fitted pink shirt that I know looks good against my tanned skin and blonde hair. Quickly, I pull them on before brushing my hair and heading into the bathroom to clean my teeth and put some mascara on my light lashes.

  When I return to the bedroom and sit on the bed to put on my Converse, Jacinta has her phone out with her fingers flying across the screen. I wonder if she's snitching on me to Declan or something else entirely, but the blank, haughty look on her face gives me nothing to go on. Lacing my shoes, I stand up, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

  "Okay, I'm ready," I tell her. Looking up from her phone, her top lip raises in a sneer as she surveys my outfit. And I’d thought her expression couldn’t get any worse.

  “What's all of.... that? You represent the Summers family and the Neighpalm brand now; you can’t be going around looking like... trash.” I flinch. Her words make a direct hit, which I know is what she was aiming for, and I hate giving her that satisfaction.

  “I don't own much of anything formal or designer. This is who I am,” I explain, shrugging my shoulders.

  Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “That will have to do. I don't have time for you to change." She takes off down the hall, her heels clattering on the wooden floors, as I grit my teeth and follow her. I hope she doesn't get too far ahead because I can't quite keep up. I’m still limping slightly, favoring my knee. One of the things I’d decided last night was to give them a little bit of slack, so I don’t call out and remind her that it’s hard for me to match her pace. No, I won't put up with hostile attacks like Jaxon’s, but Jacinta's passive-aggressive disdain is easy to deal with. I’ve got the experience. I mean, it can't be easy having a complete stranger waltz in and disturb your tight-knit family.

  We don't stop for breakfast, and I also don't see anyone as we leave the house. I'm not sure what time it is, but it can't be much past six-thirty. I'll have to check my phone when we get to wherever we're going.

  Outside, the daylight is just breaking over the treeline, so I wasn't far off on time. There's a big black limo waiting for us in the same spot Nana, Poppy, and I were dropped off yesterday. The driver is wearing a suit and cap and politely says good morning as he opens the door for Jacinta. She just ignores him and slides in, while I smile and say good morning back. He frowns at Jacinta slightly before clearing it and nodding his head, a smile lifting on one side of his mouth.

  When I get myself seated, the door closes with a sharp bang, and I watch him through the tinted windows as he makes his way to the driver's seat. Seamlessly, we start to move down the driveway. Jacinta has a tablet out, stylus in hand, and she looks to be drawing on it, but I don't pay too much attention. As the limo leaves the estate, I roll my window down to get another look at the abandoned mansion across the road. I need to start doing some exercise, so I might walk down and have a look next time I get five minutes. It’s also on my list to find somewhere to buy a camera and a chest harness. I'm going to film my adventure. You never know what I might find.

  "What are you doing?" Jacinta snaps at me, the contempt in her voice alerting me to the fact that I’ve once again offended her. "For God’s sake! Close the window; you're messing up my hair.” Turning to look at her incredulously, I can see there's not a strand out of place, but I don’t want to spend the whole day fighting, so I do as she demands.

  Pulling out my phone, I search the internet for any information about the old mansion and its eccentric owner. There are some cool articles about his famous parties in the seventies as well as a few others about his mysterious disappearance. It seems that he and his illegitimate son from an affair gone wrong went missing twenty-five years ago. No bodies were found, and the only suspect was the son’s pregnant girlfriend, but with no evidence, they had no choice but to let her go. She disappeared, and the place has been empty ever since. Lawyers for the state have said there were rumors that the pregnant girlfriend was carrying the son’s children, and those children would inherit anything if they came forward, but no one has claimed it as yet. Wow, how exciting! YouTube has no video footage of the castle, so unless it’s lurking somewhere deep in the internet, it’s likely no one has ever officially explored it. "God, could you be any more annoying? What are you smiling like a loon about?" Looking up, Jacinta’s unfriendly gaze meets mine. In my excitement, I forgot she was in the car, and I guess I wasn't hiding my enthusiasm for my plans.

  "Oh, ah, nothing really." I'm definitely
not sharing it with her; the last thing I need is to give her more ammunition to mock or criticize me. So, putting away my phone, I change the subject.

  "What are we doing today?" I ask, trying to make conversation.

  "We’re going to a photoshoot for my new line of lingerie and sportswear. There will be investors and buyers there, as well as the photographer and the models. Please don’t do anything to embarrass me. Just find somewhere quiet and out of the way to sit, and if anyone asks you, just tell them you’re an intern or something." She shudders, her Disney princess looks marred by the sneer that I’m starting to think will be her default expression around me. "The last thing I need to get out is that you're Dad’s illegitimate daughter, and your mother was a junkie whore. That publicity would kill me." She looks me in the eye when she says that, and there is not one ounce of kindness in her cold blue eyes. Such a shame, I was hoping we might have been able to build at least a tolerance for each other, but I guess that's not how this is going to go.

  After she fires that shot, she goes back to whatever it is she's doing, and I pull out my paperback that Maxine packed me. Reading the blurb on the inside, I chuckle at the words. "This book is a reverse harem story. As such, the female main character will not be choosing a love interest, and there will be multiple scenes with group sex in them." What has Max given to me? Looking at the front, there's a picture of a woman surrounded by six bare-chested men. Married to the Pack, the title says. I haven't had a chance to read in a long time. Between college and work for the Bostons, and course practicals, I can't remember the last time I sat down with a good book. I especially love anything paranormal, and this looks to fit the bill. Settling myself in, I open the book and start the story.

  I've been reading for about ten minutes when I hear her snort again. "What is it this time?" I ask, exasperated.

  "Of course, you would read a book about a slut," she snaps, her words acidic and harsh.