Hearts Break: A Dark Stepbrother Bully Romance (Wicked Hearts At War Book 3)

by Mallory Fox

  “Seth? What are you doing?”

  I’m annoyed she keeps saying my name, but I don’t answer or tell her to goddam keep her mouth closed. Exhaling hard, disregarding the murderous look she gives me, I haul Pearl through the roped-off area and into the empty playroom. As I lock eyes with the angel guarding the room, they close off entry to the walkway so no one else can enter.

  “Ow, fuck, Seth. You’re hurting me.” Pearl scowls.

  Hurting her is the least of her worries. In the middle of the playroom there’s a four-poster bed. I toss her onto it as the door clicks closed, locking us both inside.

  Lying on the bed, panting, hair in disarray, Pearl’s eyes are dark. She’s seething under the mask of innocence she’s wearing. Just the sight of her bound in white leather, ready to rip me apart has my dick twitching. Especially when her eyes keep moving, taking in the padded spanking bench at the base of the bed, the whips and chains hanging off a criss-cross metal stand, and the peep holes on every wall that have eyes behind.

  She rounds on me, tongue lashing out her words in a low voice as she tries to sit up. “Seth! What the hell is this? What are we doing in here?”

  “Shut the fuck up. People are watching.” I shove her back down, placing a knee on the bed beside her, holding her still with my hand around her throat. Inhaling the jasmine and coconut scent of hers that drives me crazy, I do what I’ve been wanting to do for a very long time. I lean down and claim her mouth with mine, squeezing her breast, until we’re both gasping and my heart is damn near racing.

  She moans beneath me as she writhes in my grasp. Music to my ears.

  “Why are you doing this?” she breathes out as I break the kiss. Her hair has strayed over her eyes and she blinks rapidly. I resist the pull to brush it away. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Not anymore. Did we fucking ever?

  “Why do you think?” I ask.

  On the bed are restraints, I take one cuff and attach it to her wrist as I pin her down. I can almost hear her heart pounding. She doesn’t struggle. Instead, there’s a defiance in her eyes that excites me.

  “I’m not here to fuck, Seth. Even if I was, I’m not doing it in front of everyone handcuffed to a bloody four poster bed,” she says, biting her lower lip, glaring up at me.

  Interesting statement. I give Pearl the once over with my eyes noting her large irises, parted lips, and trembling thighs. Her body says differently

  “You’re in my club. In this room. I should think that’s the only reason you’re here. You were about to walk in here and play with one sick bastard,” I say, attaching the other cuff. “So why not play with me instead?”

  Chapter 4

  Seth

  Once she’s well and truly restrained, I glide my palms down both of her arms. On one of them is a red handprint from when I dragged her in here only moments ago. She shivers as I stroke her soft skin over the marks I gave her, down to her shoulder and neck where her dress is laced tight. Her eyes are big and dark, as my fingers hook under the laces holding her entire dress together and undo the knot.

  I begin unraveling.

  “Do you even know what you signed when you entered my club?” I say in a quiet voice.

  “Seth, stop, I didn’t sign up for this,” she says, lashes fluttering as she stares up at me from the bed.

  “Not until you say the safe word.” She’s not saying it or anything like it. My girls should have informed her what it was. She would have had to sign to say she understood the rules. Say it, Pearl. Stop me.

  “Seth, please…” Not good enough.

  “Please what?” I continue to move my hand down, undoing her laces, slowly peeling her dress open to her waist. I love that she’s not wearing a bra. I take her breast in my mouth and tease her nipple with my tongue and teeth. She gasps but says nothing, panting as my other hand snakes up between her legs, under the leather of her skirt, to find the soaking wetness between them. She’s not wearing any panties either as I knew would be the case. The girls at the front desk are strict on the rules of Wonderland.

  Why the fuck did Pearl choose white?

  Did she come here for me or did she come here for something else entirely? Is she here to make me pay for what I did? Let others use her and make me watch as some sort of punishment? Or is she here to let me abuse her to the point of breaking us both?

  As much as I know Pearl isn’t mine and I know she’s had men after me, the fucking reality of it is like a dagger to my damn chest every time. The beast inside me that I keep locked up wants to tie her fully to this bed, strip her bare, and use her and abuse her in every way possible with every person in the damn club watching.

  So they all know she’s mine.

  But I also never want her to look at me the way other girls have.

  Like I’m a fucking monster.

  I pull back from teasing her with my mouth and really look at her.

  “Pearl,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, stroking between her legs enough to make her squirm and bite her own lip. “Why the fuck are you here? Tell me the truth. It can’t just be to talk.”

  Even if I hate what she did. Even if that day in Kensington, when I saw her true colors and the cold hearted bitch tore my heart out…

  “I honestly came to talk,” she says between moans.

  …I never want to see her afraid of me.

  “We can talk but I’m not stopping until you tell me the safe word,” I say.

  Even if that fucking excites the hell out of me.

  “Raven,” she chokes out.

  There. She said it.

  I exhale, reluctantly pulling away. “Give me one good reason why I should let you walk out of here without putting on a show for my guests? I mean, why are you even in my damn club, Pearl?” I ask, letting my eyes trail over her delectable body as I take her in. “If not to play?”

  Her eyes narrow. “I came here to speak to you in person since you won’t answer my bloody calls anymore.”

  My lips twitch into a smirk. I can’t help it. “You came here to talk? You know this is a sex club, don’t you, Pearl?”

  “Of course, I know,” she huffs, cheeks flushing.

  I cock my head at her. “So you know what goes on in these private rooms?”

  Or not so private given all the eyes staring into this one.

  She swallows and looks around, as if seeing the room for the first time. When her eyes land on the paddle bench, she blushes beautifully. She looks at me and I let her see how much I’m itching to strip her and bind her to it, punish her with one of the paddles artfully hanging from the walls.

  I’ve done this to hundreds of girls, a thousand times before.

  But never Pearl Darlington.

  I wait until it dawns on her just what kind of lion’s den she’s walked into.

  “You still want to call raven?” I ask, trailing my fingers softly over her exposed skin while she trembles. “We could have a lot of fun here.”

  She licks her lips and shakes her head. “I’m calling it.”

  Overriding every instinct, I stop stroking her, get up off the bed, and stride over to where the switch is on the wall that closes every single peephole in the room. I turn it off, making it completely private, and then I walk back to where she is and start to uncuff her.

  “Start talking,” I say, finally, once she’s completely untied.

  Pearl straightens, rubbing her wrists, regarding me with dark eyes and pouted lips. It’s a look that I’m beginning to interpret as wanton and frustrated as hell.

  Join the club, sweetheart.

  I’m straining in my pants here but I’m also intrigued. What’s so important she had to track me down here of all places? I was going to go back. I needed time but eventually I would have returned, and she would have seen me at college if she’d have waited. Pearl got her suspension lifted at La Roche. Her name was on the roster after I pulled some strings. Don’t ask me why I did it. I don’t even know myself.

  “Why did you leave?�
�� she says, sitting up. Her dress is still wide open above the waist. She starts lacing it up, it’s a little distracting to say the least.

  “La Roche? I’m going back in spring,” I say, not really answering her question, mesmerized by the way she tightens her dress and pulls it closed.

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” She sighs. “Carmel wants you back earlier than that, and I need you to arrange a meeting with Marcel before then.”

  “Hold on. You want to what?”

  “Your grandfather. I need to speak to him and you have to arrange it,” she says in all seriousness while continuing to fix her dress, looking down at her laces and not at me.

  “Babe, I don’t have to do anything for you.”

  She frowns, hazel eyes flitting to mine. “Seth, you don’t even know the reason why.”

  I give her a straight look. “I’m not taking you to Marcel.”

  She huffs. “Why ever not?”

  “Because he eats little girls like you for breakfast.”

  Her eyes show that she’s not amused. “What? Is the mighty Seth Darlington né Montford worried about me?”

  I lift my own eyes upward. “Not everything is about you, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect my investment.”

  Letting Pearl and Marcel meet would be a huge mistake. He’d fucking annihilate her and ruin me in the process.

  She scowls, giving me a shitty look. “I knew you’d be difficult.” She ties the laces of her dress into a tight knot and gets off the bed, picking up her strewn clutch. Out of it she draws her phone, switches it on, and swipes back and forth until she finds what she’s looking for and then holds it up. There’s a gruesome photo on the screen. “Someone has been leaving these for me to find all winter.”

  I look at her with narrowed eyes, muscle in my jaw clenching. “Is that what I think it is?” Gabby told me Pearl was getting inappropriate packages from a mystery sender. She didn’t elaborate on what type. I assumed it was just a prank from some disgruntled ex-employee or a rejected lover.

  Pearl’s brow arches. “A dead swan? Yes, it is. And this the note that was left with the latest corpse.”

  I read it, noting the handwriting. It’s fucking Marcel alright.

  “As much as I hate you. I don’t want to go and see Marcel alone. I need you, Seth.”

  The look she gives me takes my breath away, shredding any last vestiges of hate that I have for her still festering somewhere deep inside to almost nothing. How can I say no to Pearl when she puts it like that?

  The sigh is on my lips before I can stop it. “Come with me. We’ll talk upstairs.” I prefer something less subtle than sex right now to take the edge off, and I also need to have this conversation away from the cameras we have installed in every part of the club.

  Of course, I knew this would happen sooner or later. Marcel doesn’t like to lose, even to his own grandson. The dead bird is a blatant message from him and the rest of my fucked-up family to me. Pearl has a price on her head and will pay it, unless she plays one of Marcel’s sick games that she can’t ever win.

  I guide Pearl upstairs to a private floor and inside one of the offices.

  “Where are we now?” she asks as she takes in the vintage furniture, the exposed dirty brick walls, and the huge, metal-framed windows.

  “In my office.” I head to my desk where I have open an expensive bottle of single malt. If only to calm myself down, I pour out a couple of splashes of it neat into a glass, down it, and then pour another.

  She stands there staring and then finally walks over to the huge glass windows and looks down over the masses. Outside the room the music has stopped, and on the stage the main show has started.

  Girls in white masks are being bound to punishment racks, stripped naked, and flogged for all to see. Everyone is watching and chanting. “Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…”

  It’s Wonderland’s countdown to midnight.

  Pearl raises her brows and gives me a questioning look. “Interesting show. You really have an office here?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I say, tired all of a sudden, my shoulders extra tense. I’m in an even shittier mood now. Knowing Marcel is upping his game has thrown me for six. In my head, I’m working out what my next step will be. I’m not really listening to Pearl.

  “I assumed you owned Wonderland, but I thought it moved around?” she says, exhaling softly, turning around to take a seat on the leather chesterfield that spans the center of the room. She indicates to the drink in my hand. “Can I get one of those?”

  The chanting continues as I stare at her, my mind not really comprehending. “Six… Five… Four…”

  “You don’t drink whisky,” I state simply, but pour her a measure anyway. I pace over to where she’s sitting and offer her the glass. “And I own the building.”

  She takes it, kicking off her shoes, curling up into one corner of the large couch with her feet tucked up beneath her. “I didn’t know you actually owned this building.”

  “Three.” The crowd shouts in unison as I take up position in front of my desk, leaning against it, drink in my hand.

  “This and many others,” I say curtly, downing a mouthful of whisky as she stares intently at the glass in her hands. “How did you even get in here?”

  “Levi was able to get me on the guest list,” she says, blinking her eyes, licking the taste of whisky from her lips. Not in a seductive way, she’s far too pissed at me for that.

  “Two…” More cheering.

  I arch a brow, mouth curling into a sneer. “Is that so? What did he want in return for that? A quickie in the car on the way over here? Or are you going back to his place after you’ve got your kicks here?”

  “Fuck you,” she snarls.

  “One… Happy New Year!”

  There’s a sudden explosion of music and strobe lights illuminate the stage. Beyond the glass of the office, silver snow falls from the ceiling and over everyone in the club. For the final stunt the whipped girls are aerial lifted to the ceiling to be fucked in the air by multiple men in demon masks with devil horns and leathery wings. It’s cheesy as hell but that’s what the members wanted.

  Grimacing, I take a large swig of my drink.

  The alcohol has at least taken the edge off my black mood. Now that she’s safe in here with me and not out on the floor, I’m no longer wanting to tear people apart. But the familiar feeling of wanting to punish her hasn’t gone away. If anything, being inside this damn room and away from prying eyes, it’s fucking intensified.

  Finally, her head tilts and she brushes her hair away from her face, looking back up at me. “So, about my meeting.”

  “Not so fast,” I say, ignoring her shitty way of negotiating. “How long have you been getting death threats?”

  Her eyes widen. “So it’s true then, he wants me dead?”

  “Let’s just say that my grandfather has a unique way of making his point known.” I let her see the darkness in my eyes, and she shifts in her seat like it’s uncomfortable.

  She sighs and rubs her temple. “Fuck.”

  Ignoring the pounding in my own skull, I carry on with my line questioning. “How long has he been sending them?”

  Her haughty hazel eyes flick to me. “I don’t see why that’s important.”

  I shrug. “Marcel likes to draw things out, but not too long. I need to know how much time you have left.”

  “Are you bloody kidding me?”

  I shrug. “You’ve known for a while that he’s a sick bastard.”

  She visibly flinches. “I knew, I just didn’t think it was real…”

  Just fucking answer the question. “So are you going to tell me how long?”

  “Since I left La Roche,” she says in a low voice, taking a breath, closing her eyes and opening them again.

  I give her a questioning look. “Wasn’t that months ago?”

  She says nothing and takes a sip of her drink, hands shaking.

  I’ve never wanted to hold her more
than I do now, but I’ll be fucked if I let Pearl know that. Instead, I grip the desk, white knuckling it with my free hand. “Pearl, look at me, did something happen?”

  She looks up at me from under her lashes, shaking her head. “Not yet. I just really need your help.”

  “My help to do what?” There’s a tightness in my chest as I ask her the question.

  She stares at me, all serious again, and I’m mesmerized by her pixie face, haughty hazel eyes, lips like sweet candy. She’s just as glorious as the first time I wanted her in that dilapidated pub in Harbridge End.

  But as she tosses her head, her next words completely throw me. “To take him down for killing my father.”

  Chapter 5

  Seth

  Pearl’s face searches mine as she tells me something I already fucking know. I’ve suspected for a while that Marcel was behind Nicole and Graham’s death, hence all the tentative digging around I’ve been doing behind my family’s back to figure out just how far they would go to get what they want.

  It’s bugged me for a while. All that bullshit about the car being old and the roads being icy. It was snowing that night, but the snow had just started. I ran out of that cab as fast as I could wearing fucking dress shoes of all things, and I did not slip once.

  My own keys being locked in the car was another giveaway. I do not do idiotic stunts like leave keys in cars. I’m usually careful and deliberate. I know my head was screwed around that time, but there is no way I locked my own keys in my own damn car.

  It’s taken me months of bribing officials, borrowing police reports, blackmailing those involved, for me to get to this conclusion. So how the hell does Pearl already know?

  She amazes me, she really does. Just when I think I know her… she goes and does a complete one eighty. It’s apparent that I’ve underestimated her time and time again. If things were different between us, if we’d had another history, she would have made the perfect partner.

  No one else comes close.

  “Are you going to tell me how you know that little fact or are we going to play cat and mouse all night like we usually do?” I’m not in the mood for games, in fact, I’m fucking irritated beyond reason. Digging around on Marcel is a death wish waiting to come true. Whatever she’s been doing to figure it all out, I can guarantee I won’t like it.