Dirty Little Secret: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 3)

by Belladona Cunning

  “This is bullshit, D,” I growl under my breath, making my out of the manor.

  He grumbles, just as pissed as I am. “You’re telling me. I didn’t want to come along and watch you go Hyde on someone. It’s not my cup of tea.”

  “Don’t fucking call it that. I’m not two goddamn people, asshole.”

  He scoffs. “No; you’re worse.”

  “Get fucked.”

  Growling under my breath, I nearly rip the door of the car before barreling inside. If I didn’t have to do this fucking assignment for Joaquin, I’d be inside straightening shit out with Ariyal. Not giving a damn about the consequences, and just fucking tell her that she rocks my unhinged world. She’s the only woman I’ve met in my life that gives no shit about anything. She the only person that would much rather give lip than listen, even when it’s her life on the line.

  I can’t explain it. Last night, something just clicked. I still felt the animosity she has toward me, but it wasn’t holding her back like it did before. She was free, none of the restrictions she usually wraps herself in was present. It was beautifully reckless, and I wanted to devour every inch of her with my teeth, hands, and cock. Make her cry my name, instead of his. Feel her claw at my back. Not to push me away, but to pull me in.

  It should have been me. Instead, he wiggled his way—just like his father—into being the leader. He gets all the benefits. Her as a wife if he chooses. Her as his little plaything, even though she technically belongs to all three of us.

  Her ownership came about by some archaic law his father ‘found,’ when he searched through the history of our families.

  Personally, I don’t believe shit that comes out of his mouth. The only thing that asshole deserves is a bullet between his eyes. Just thinking about him causes a fury hotter than a million suns to blaze through me.

  The shitty thing about it is that Brett doesn’t even fucking see it. Or if he does, he’s ignoring it all together.

  Honestly, I don’t know which pisses me off more. The thought that he’s okay with what his father does, or that he’s allowing Joaquin to groom him to take over and continue running thing like that have been. No fucking way that’s going to happen. All of our little meetings we had when we were younger will not go in vain.

  The talks we had about changing everything when Brett took over; how it the hierarchy would split between the three of us and we’d all be in charge—no person, or their family name, better than the other. Just thinking about all those times has my hackles rising with indecisiveness.

  “D, you’d tell me if the status quo changed, right?” I flick my eyes in his direction, allowing him to see the unspoken question burning in them.

  Silence plays between us for a couple miles, forcing my attention back to the road or risk running off the road or hitting someone head on. It extends so far, so much so I start growing antsy in my seat. There aren’t many things that can cause my anxiety to skyrocket. But Ariyal just happens to make the small list of things that do.

  Finally, and without preamble, he surprises me by saying, “No.”

  Shunting my brows inward, my eyes dart back toward him before reconnecting with the road. From the corner of my eye, I note a pensive look resting on his features. My grip tightens on the wheel. “Care to tell me why?”

  With a sigh, he relents, squaring up with me. “Because it already has; no use in telling you something that’s already happened after it’s happened, kinda defeats the purpose.

  “Explain,” I grit out.

  “Remember that night Joaquin came back from back East; after the fact, telling us that Ariyal’s brand was complete?”

  “Yes,” I grit out. “I remember.”

  “I don’t think that’s the only thing he left behind, man.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Of course, that’s not all that happened. He fucking raped her, man. Joaquin practically gloated about it just now in the foyer.”

  “That’s not what I’m fucking meaning,” Dorran voice blazes fire.

  “Then what is it?” I bellow, having it up to here with his shit and beating around the bush.

  He turns in his seat as quick as fire, pinning me to my spot with a glare. “Then tell me why Arabella said he ruined her. Tell me fucking why she said her daughter was no longer the little girl she used to be.”

  “Trauma? Embarrassment?” I shrug my shoulders. “The truth of the matter is it shouldn’t have fucking happened. It is against family law to touch a plaything without permission. Joaquin should be pushing up daisy’s right now. Instead, he has too many connections and every goddamn body seems to be scared of him.”

  “And you’re not?” he asks, and I know he’s fishing for information. I’m not an idiot. Dorran, Brett, and I have practically grown up together.

  But even with our closeness, he still doesn’t know one thing.

  I am always three steps ahead of everyone in this game. While he’s scratching his balls and trying to think of a way out, I’m already slipping up behind him and slicing my blade through his throat.

  “No.” My mouth forms a small smile. “Not one bit. And if he doesn’t watch himself around our girl, I’ll cut his fingers off one by one, regardless what Brett thinks.”

  Brett doesn’t see the way Joaquin’s eyes follow Ariyal, like some horny dog with his cock hanging out. Besides the fact it’s disgusting seeing him drool all over her, he’s doing it to the wrong female. She isn’t his; never will be. Joaquin lost out on his chance when he killed one and sent the other away. All because of something Brett, his precious son, absolutely cannot find out about.

  He paid that fucking bitch to disappear without another word. I’ve heard rumors flowing through the family grapevine that she’s dead, but Brett won’t open up about it. In fact, he doesn’t speak about his past period. He follows his father around, taking the swings Joaquin aims for his face, like a good little lap dog. But even I know that won’t last long.

  An abused animal will one day turn on its owner, it’s just a matter of time.

  My job isn’t done yet. There are still things I need to get my fingers on before I can call it quits.

  I will save her.

  I will take her away from here, regardless who is on the plan or not. Right now, it’s just me. But before this is all over and done with, I will get the other two on my side. They will see reason. Even if I must beat it into them. They will understand that by staying here we are signing our death warrants, just like the other’s that came before us.

  I’m not the only one that’s tried to rebel the founding family’s belief system. My family merely wanted to leave, but my grandfather tried, and he ended up with a bullet between his eyes.

  I can’t prove it, but I know that no good Kingston had something to do with it. Just like he has his fingers in everything else.

  Just like he ‘had his cock in a nice little filly before he gave her his mark,’ is what he said all those years ago. I didn’t put it together until we were sitting in the den, reading over Joaquin’s latest ruse. The fact that he’s gone as far as reporting her dead, planning a funeral, and not telling us anything about it means he’s up to something.

  I’ll slit his goddamn throat before he does anything else to her. But I can’t do this on my own, no matter how hard I try. I can’t prove he’s guilty of anything without someone from the inside with me.

  Dorran is a no-go, still being mentally checked out from his revelation on the first day being back here. Even though he’s here, he’s not really here. He’s still with her, and her absence in this house is a deal breaker for him.

  Brett—it will take a hell of a lot more than a hunch to get him to go against his father. The bastard may just be a sperm donor to him, but that doesn’t mean Brett takes his responsibility any less seriously. Brett hates Joaquin with a passion, and just one little ounce of proof will get him on my side.

  But how to get that proof?

  Who do I turn to?

  Slowing the car down, I
cut the headlights and turn onto the abandoned road. The car jostles and splashes tiny puddles of water as we make our way through a blind of trees, gravels crunching underneath my tires.

  The sight of our warehouse comes into view a we breach the last bend in the trees, and that familiar darkness starts swirling in my stomach. It calls to me on a visceral level. An ominous presence that I feel so at home within encircles me, causing a brief smile of relaxation to fall over my features.

  “You’re fucked,” Dorran comments, cringing when I bring my attention to him.

  “Nah.” I smile wider, more sadistically. “Whoever’s in there is.”

  Usually, this isn’t something I do anymore because I usually can’t reign myself in. It’s Alaric’s job. However, since we’ve been back, Joaquin’s put him behind lock and key. Hardly allows him to leave the basement, where all the rest of the merchandise sits, awaiting appraisal and distribution. Knowing that young jackass, he’s probably sampling the goods.

  One of the reasons I didn’t want Ariyal down there. She may not show it, but it will traumatize her to see Alaric bumping uglies with women Joaquin has for sale.

  In fact, I’m almost sure of it. A jackass only needs to get caught once, with his pants around his ankles and cock shoved down some broad’s throat, to know he happily takes any assignment as long as it requires him to go down into the basement. A basement Joaquin treats as an auction house to get rid of all his freight.

  Drugs and women. It makes the goddamn world go around.

  It’s fucking demented and deranged, though. If I didn’t have to go down to the basement, I wouldn’t. But since I’m in this shit until I can figure a way out—a way that has all three of us and the girl getting out—I’m stuck being led around like a lamb.

  But that’s all going to change. Ariyal thought it was terrific finding out she had a twin, but it’s not. Joaquin’s already dug his claws in deep with that one. He’d take Ariyal against her will if Joaquin ordered him to. And he’d do it with a smile on his fucking face with each scream and cry she released.

  You don’t spend a lifetime with the devil without coming out the other side altered.

  Growling at the thought, I shove the car in park. Unsnapping my belt, I don’t wait for Dorran to get out before I’m already out of the door, walking toward the warehouse. The air whips to and fro as I make my way toward the side entrance. Mark, one of Joaquin’s men, pushes open the door when he sees me near.

  “Boss.” He inclines his head in greeting.

  I do the same in return, even though my eyes are on the pathetic excrement strung up behind him. The same guy that works for us, not Joaquin.

  The same cocksucker Joaquin just ordered me to torture and kill. All because he ‘went against the family.’

  Appearing unphased to see a man strung up by his wrist, I turn back toward Joaquin’s muscle. “Mark. What do we have?”

  “He lost it. That’s all Boss told me to tell you.”

  My eyes snap to the man trussed up, seeing in his pleading gaze that Mark’s telling the truth. I swear to fuck, if he’s lost what I think he has, I’ll kill him myself.

  Also, how in the hell did he figure out my package was alive and well?

  I need to get back to Ariyal. Explain the whole thing before shit starts falling down around us all. Because now that Joaquin knows, he’ll not stop until he sees his plan come to fruition.

  CHAPTER 11

  This motherfucker. Like, I’m really going to be his queen. As if I would debase myself in such a way to be connected to him if I had a choice.

  He has to be lying. He has to know I would never give him the satisfaction of calling me his after everything that’s happened between us. All the torment, bullying, and otherwise being a straight up asshole.

  When his father branded me, he sure as shit didn’t do it with my blessing or permission. Before that night, I didn’t even know anyone as vicious as Joaquin existed outside of the movies. Yes, I lived on the streets, but none of the sad saps out there bothered me. They didn’t threaten me as long as I didn’t threaten their way of life.

  I didn’t choose this. No, I remember being held down while Trevor bought to get to me. It may have all just been a ruse on Trevor’s part, but in that moment, he was my everything and he was trying to save me. Nothing good has come from that not, and here I am, so many years later, with this want to be king claiming I’m his queen.

  I can’t believe it. Seriously, how the hell am I going to get myself out of this now?

  After the whole basement debacle, Brett escorted me back up to my room. Whatever he wanted to show me must not have been too important, because the moment I laughed in his face at what he said, he turned into stone. His entire demeanor changed, clamming up and turning hateful, spiteful. I could tell he wanted me out of his sight as much as I needed to be by myself.

  A person can’t just expect someone to fall in love with the idea of being sacrificed as some pawn in a sick and twisted game. Essentially, that’s exactly what I am to Brett. A pawn. A person he can use to overshadow his moves across the board, so that his opponent can’t figure out his end game.

  But I have a feeling his end game is going to get me killed. I’m not for that, not in the least. I love being able to wake up, no matter what kind of situation I find myself in, that includes being able to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

  I love life; thrive in its vast glory daily. Even being here, I can learn to adapt to my surroundings. Go with the flow as some would say. But still, that’s going to take some time. Something can’t just be thrust upon me with the expectation I’ll easily transform into the person they want.

  That’s not how it’s done. Not how it will be with me.

  I hear a commotion on the other side of the door, and instinctively roll my eyes. Great, what the hell else can happen now?

  Much to my dismay, I hear Brett telling my babysitter, Trevor, that I’m not to leave this room unless otherwise given permission from him or the others. That I am to think over my new place in their life, and by doing that, I will be required to have silence and no interruptions. Fucker.

  He just doesn’t want anyone else coming in here and usurping his position in my life. He wants to be the sole person I turn to, even though there are two more people included in this story. “It is time that she understands she belongs to us and she needs to make peace with that.”

  Goddamn psychopath!

  “I understand. No one gets in; got it.” Trevor states like a good little body he is, always ready to please. Even if the person he should be worried about is me, but that’s never going to happen. He’s an asshole that faked it all.

  Makes me fucking sick how he can bow down to this family. How he can allow Brett, Joaquin, Chaz, and Dorran to order him to do something. He’s nothing but a mindless robot, and I have no time to worry about his systematic defects.

  “Good Dog,” Brett says in return.

  He is such an asshole. I don’t think that a single person has ever put him in his place. Ever.

  Well, I’ll tell you what—he keeps fucking with me and I’m going to introduce his groin to my size seven, worn, run down boots, that my mother got for me using his family money.

  I start to head away from the door when I hear Brett walk down the hall. I can’t get out of this room even if I tried, because Trevor would never allow it. For some reason, he is so far shoved up any Kingston’s ass that I fear sometimes he’s going to be lost forever. He is always looking for ways to better his standing with the family.

  I might as well get comfortable, because there’s no telling how long I will be in this room. Hours, days, weeks—I’ve learned in the past few months it’s a game of Russian roulette with his emotions. He’ll either come to his senses fast, or he’ll let you marinate in his shame. Yes, it’s his shame, because he is clearly off his rocker if he thinks I’m doing anything he wants.

  He wants me to think over being a brat and laughing at his offer. He wants m
e to come to terms with his decree; a decree that’s so outlandish, so catastrophically ridiculous no sane person would believe it.

  Sighing, I drop down onto the top of my bed with a huff of exasperation. I couldn’t have been sitting there for a long, when I hear a new set of footsteps traveling down the hallway. They are too heavy and too few of them, like someone has a larger gait, to be Brett’s. As I take a deep breath, thinking that will pass my door by—because honestly, I have had enough of people and assholes today—they surprise me and stop right in front of my door.

  Whoever is on the other side of the door is very worked up, either that or they’re in a bad shape. I can hear their panting breath through my sad excuse of a door.

  Then I hear it. The voice that has set my blood aflame on multiple occasions. The voice that belongs to a man I do not want to look at right now. By leaving me to fend for myself, knowing there’s this mental block or some shit, he’s not one my list of nice people right now.

  Hell, no one is for that matter.

  I hear the growl in his voice and the promise of dirty things to come. All if I’m a good girl for him. Bad thing is, I’m never a good girl. I have to much venom running in my veins to be anything of the sort. If he wants anything from me, he’ll have to work for that shit. I’m not a charity; he’s not getting shit out of me for free.

  “Move,” Chaz demands in a low, I’m-going-to-make-you-come-harder-than-you-ever-have-before voice. Just that one word has chills running through my body. But I can’t relent. If I do, then I’m no better than the other bitches that’s fallen into his lustful trap.

  “No can do, Chaz. Brett gave me orders, and not letting anyone in is part of them. Go find another hole to sink inside,” Trevor brazenly replies, his voice holding a hint of bitterness and hostility.

  I her a hrumph come from Chaz at that. Trevor may not know this, but I know Chaz will not be deterred that easily. When he wants something, he’s like a goddamn bulldog fighting over a bone. Vicious, cruel, and downright lethal.