Relentless (Titans of Founder's Ridge Book 2)

by Nichole Greene

  I start to pull back on the highway as a beat-up truck pulling a U-Haul drives past me and through the community gates. I take a deep breath passing through the wrought iron and granite gates. I pass Griff’s house, and my heart starts to beat a little harder because a half-mile down the road is our house. I hit the button on the garage door opener and pull my car in. Levi’s G Wagon and Frank’s Maserati are both gone which leads me to believe I’ll be the only one home.

  Thank fuck for that.

  I can’t even handle the thought of dealing with my mother right now. She was awful last year. Anytime she could catch me alone, she’d drop snide comments about my body. How I look like a boy. Passive aggressive comments about whatever she caught me eating. She even tried to get Frank to fire Babs for not following her directions to feed me a low-carb, low-sugar diet. Levi stepped in and said he had overridden her directive to Babs because of the amount of calories I need to consume for swimming. Frank was actually pretty pissed at my mom for meddling in my athletics like that, not surprising since he was an athlete.

  I pull my suitcases out of the trunk and into the house. If I didn’t want to get all unpacked, I could probably leave them for Levi or Frank to carry up for me, but I only have two days until school starts, and I want to be all settled again. Plus, who needs a man to lift the heavy stuff?

  I am woman. Hear me roar.

  I open my bedroom door and step into the room I haven’t seen in almost three months. Almost everything is the same aside from my concert posters being pulled down. I don’t need three guesses to know who did that. A post-it note with barely legible chicken scratch draws my eye. I know it’s from Levi without even reading it. After years of writing letters back and forth, I’m probably one of the only people capable of reading his handwriting.

  Ives,

  I won’t be home until Sunday.

  Save the day for me.

  -Levi

  I smile and run my finger over the note. It’s sweet that he took the time to write a note out when he could have just shot me a text. The thoughtfulness of the note puts the tiniest crack in the wall I’ve erected around my heart against him. I puff out a breath and roll my suitcases into the closet. Maybe I’ll FaceTime Oliver later to help keep my mind off Levi and see how he’s settling in at Oxford. I mull it over while I sort and hang all my clothes. I still don’t have enough to fill this giant closet.

  “Ivy?” my mother calls from the bedroom.

  “In the closet,” I answer back after a moment’s hesitation. I brace myself for whatever bitchiness she’s going to sling my way.

  “When did you get back?” she asks from the doorway in a fucking tiny bikini that barely covers her nipples and is probably a thong. If I actually liked my mom, I’d high five her for doing her, but I don’t like her, and I definitely don’t respect her. She’s just a social ladder climber with the depth of a puddle.

  “About twenty minutes ago.”

  She glances around the closet with disproval. “You want to go shopping?”

  “Sure,” I don’t care who asks me that. I’ll shop with just about anyone. It’s my second favorite sport. “When?”

  “I’ll clean up, and we can go. Frank is golfing so we can meet him at the club for dinner after.” She turns to leave and, yep, I was right. Her bikini bottoms are a thong.

  I roll my eyes and keep unpacking. Dinner with Frank actually sounds great. I know he has some sort of history with my dad, but he’s been nothing but supportive of me. He’s not around much, but he made it a point to see me swim. I didn’t have one meet where I didn’t have a cheering section last year. Levi and Oliver were at every one of them. Usually shooting dirty looks at each other. If my dad couldn’t make it, Frank would. Several times Connor and Griff even came. Isaac and his mom made it to the meets in Connecticut. The one person who never came was my mother.

  Frank and I sat together for all Levi’s games last year. Sitting next to a former quarterback was enlightening. I went from being mildly interested in watching Levi play to knowing the names of certain plays. Our mutual love of math and numbers bonded us as well, to the point where he’s offered me any internship I want at the bank, which would be amazing since I’m planning on majoring in accounting and finance.

  After I finish putting everything away, I walk downstairs to wait in the living room. I sit on the couch and start scrolling through The Ridge. I haven’t opened the app in months because I didn’t really want to see anything about Levi over the summer. I doubt he’s gotten a girlfriend or anything, but still, I don’t want to see pictures of him with other girls. Surprisingly I don’t see many photos of him with girls hanging off his arm or in his lap. There’s plenty of him with Connor and Griff, but it seems like they’ve avoided being photographed with their worshipers.

  “Ready?”

  I look up and see Mom in a pretty canary yellow sundress. It compliments her tan and hair really well, and it is shockingly age appropriate, so I decide to compliment her. “I love that dress. The color looks great on you.”

  “Yellow has always been my color.” She gives me a critical look before hitting me with her first dig, “You could wear yellow, too, if you weren’t so pale.”

  I should have expected no less. “London was rainier than usual this summer. Most of my time was spent in the pool or sightseeing with Oliver.”

  “How is Oliver?”

  “Good. It was hard to say goodbye.”

  “You can find someone better, you’re young still.” By better she means wealthier and more connected. It’s a fucking struggle not to roll my eyes. This should be an interesting shopping trip.

  We get to Arbor Avenue, the street in Founder’s Ridge with all the high-end shops, and I find a spot right in front of one of our favorite shops. As soon as we walk in the store manager, Marie, hands my mom a glass of champagne. Two attendants shadow us through the store taking what we pull and putting them in fitting rooms for us. I have to admit shopping with my mom is the only time I find her tolerable, at least until we start trying clothes on. I pull enough dresses to get me through the weekend parties as well as casual, preppy clothes for Sunday brunches at the country club.

  After we’ve stuffed our individual fitting rooms full of options, we start trying on clothes. I try to stay in my room to avoid the inevitable criticism that will leveled at me, but the door swings open, and my mom stands there in her curvy glory. She’s wearing a fuchsia halter jumpsuit with a deep V opening down to her navel. She’s had two boob jobs, so they defy gravity, perched perkily on her chest. She purses her lips as her eyes travel the length of my body. I’m wearing a hunter green long-sleeve backless minidress.

  “Put your hair up, so I can see the back,” she instructs.

  I toss my hair into a messy bun and spin for her, bracing myself for whatever she tells me next.

  “Your thighs are looking thick. I think you need to wear longer dresses,” she says. “The back of the dress looks good, though.”

  She did not mean my thighs look thick in the good way. “I can see your areola in that jumpsuit,” I snark back at her.

  “That’s what double sided tape is for darling,” she replies coldly before turning and going back to her fitting room.

  Luckily, she doesn’t bother me the rest of the time I finish trying on the clothes on. I decide to buy everything I brought back. It’s one of those rare times where you love everything you tried on. Frank told me last year to use the credit card he got in my name for whatever I wanted. I only took myself on two shopping sprees with it. Dad found out he gave it to me and told me not to use regularly, that he would buy me whatever I needed so I tucked the credit card away for emergencies only. One spree before my senior year shouldn’t matter though.

  We also hit up a shoe store, and I buy a few more pairs of heels. I’m only five-foot-five, so if I want to not feel like a shrimp in my house I have to strap on the stilts. Even with platform Louboutins on, I still only reach Levi and Frank’s shoulders stan
ding beside them.

  After we fill my trunk and back seat with bags, we head over to meet Frank at the country club. The Founder’s Ridge Golf Club clubhouse is a fifty thousand square foot Colonial-style facility with a day spa, two ballrooms, two bars, a restaurant, an indoor driving range, and an archaic gentleman’s club where only men are allowed. I asked Levi about it once, and he said that it’s basically a place where the men go talk business, drink scotch, and smoke cigars.

  Frank is at one of the bars having a drink with a table of middle age men, one of which looks like an older version of Connor. I’d bet my new pair of Gucci sunglasses that he’s his dad. My suspicion is confirmed when we approach and my mom pulls her shoulders back and her boobs out.

  “Victor, how lovely to see you.” She air kisses both his cheeks like she’s some European socialite.

  “Ivy,” Frank pulls me in for a firm hug, “glad to have you back with us.” He turns to his friends and introduces me. Victor does turn out to be Connor’s father. “Ivy just returned to us from London. She spent her summer training with Olympic swimmers from all over Europe,” he brags about me like a proud father would, making my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

  While Frank continues rattling off my accomplishments as a swimmer as well as detailing my plans at Yale, I look over at Mom. Her lips are pressed together in an annoyed frown. Not one ounce of pride is visible from her. She doesn’t even acknowledge my existence as she interjects herself into the conversation, asking about their wives and children.

  I’m seriously thinking about just walking out when Frank snakes his arm around my shoulder and squeezes it. Just like he could hear my thoughts, he ends the conversation with his friends and guides us over to the restaurant. He and I chat for a while about my summer, while Mom decides to go socialize, always seeking a social ladder to climb. I watch Frank track her movements around the room with an annoyed frown and hard eyes.

  “Has she always been like this to you?” he looks over at me with concern.

  “Yeah,” I answer after a pause, “she’s never been warm or motherly.” I’ll take her dismissive behavior at dinner over her emotional torture any day though.

  “I’m sorry,” his eyes move back to her as she giggles with a group of other trophy wives.

  “It’s alright,” I shrug.

  His look when we make eye contact again says it’s not, but thankfully he drops the conversation. Mom comes back when the server drops our food off and manages not to make a comment about the grilled chicken sandwich I ordered. We finish our meal in peace, and I leave while they stay for a few more drinks.

  After dinner I came home, secretly hoping that Levi might be there. I checked his room, but it was empty, so I just went to my room and fell asleep watching Netflix.

  I wake up to the bed dipping beside me. Startled, I try to sit up, but a muscular arm wraps around my waist.

  “It’s just me,” Levi mumbles drunkenly as his hand slides under my shirt to rest on my stomach. “I fucking missed you, Ives.”

  “Your breath smells like a distillery.”

  “Drank a lot today.” He pulls me flush against his hard chest. “No more leaving me.”

  My heart beats quicker and warms at the affection and need in his words. I’m about to insist he get up and go to his own room when a little snore escapes him. Instead of waking him like I should, I turn to face him. It feels so right, having him wrapped around me. The heat from his skin seeping into mine is comforting. He smells like sweat, sunscreen, and bonfire smoke. I tuck in under his neck and drift off to sleep.

  Several hours later, I wake up to my alarm blasting and a sweaty furnace at my back. After swiping my alarm off, I roll out from under Levi and grab a practice suit. After changing, I pause by my bed and nudge Levi.

  “Levi, you need to go to your own room.” I shake him again, a little harder this time.

  He rolls over, and one of his eyes opens, apparently surprised by where he is. “How’d I get in here?”

  “You crawled in here drunk and passed out cuddling me.” I arch an eyebrow at him.

  “Huh,” he tosses the sheet off and sits on the edge of the bed, scratching his chest, which looks bigger than a few months ago. In fact, his entire torso, shoulders, and arms all look more defined and bigger. A slow grin tugs at his lips as we hold each other’s gazes. “It was a good call.”

  He stands, and I make the mistake of looking down. He has a hard on tenting the gym shorts that hang off his hips, highlighting his v-cut muscles. I’m locked in hot stepbrother sensory overload and unsure where to look and still be able to maintain my composure. It’s not easy. I know how good that body feels under, over, against, and inside mine. Liquid heat pools between my thighs, and I clench them together to soothe the ache. He chuckles and moves right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head all the way back to see him.

  “I’m really happy you’re home, Ives.” He leans down and gives me a lingering kiss right on the corner on my mouth. Then he walks out the door, dick jutting out shamelessly. “Grab me when you’re done with your work out and cleaned up,” he tosses over his shoulder.

  10

  LEVI

  I vaguely remember walking into Ivy’s room last night and collapsing in her bed. It was such a long day I’m surprised I even made it back home. The summer has been fucking hell for Con with his mom bolting and dragging his sister baby sister Claire away with her.

  Now he’s obsessed with getting rid of the hot as fuck blonde living under his roof. I already see the beginning signs of his possessive nature with her. It’ll be interesting to see those two fight it out this year. She seems like the type to not take shit lying down.

  I am even more obsessed with Ivy than I was last year. I made the painful mistake of letting her date another guy, and it cut me deep every fucking day. This year no one gets close to her. If I don’t have her, no one else will either. I don’t care the lengths to which I have to go. I’ll be the one she’s turning to, kissing, and fucking.

  I watch Ivy swimming laps from my window like the creepy stalker that I am. There is something crazy sexy about watching her cut through the water with such ease and grace, then add in her competitive drive, and I’m fucked. I love her so much that there’s this hallow ache in my chest all the time. Last night was the first respite I’ve had from it since this time last year on that fucking magical night where she let go of her concerns and lowered the walls around her heart.

  After her rejection, I went on a fuck-anyone-available bender. I was balls deep in almost every girl in the junior and senior classes, along with a few sophomores. Lessons learned: you can’t fuck your soulmate out of your system with random hook ups and girls are crazy.

  I know without a shadow of a doubt that Ivy Bane is my soul mate. There is no one who knows my dreams, my goals, and my secrets like she does. It’s effortless to spill my soul to her. She knows things that I’ve never even told Con or Griff.

  I tear myself away from the window and go turn on my shower. I smell awful, a combination of whiskey, smoke, and sweat. I’m a little surprised Ivy let me sleep in her bed last night with the stench wafting off me. It just goes to show she missed me as much as I did her. I shampoo my hair and scrub the funk off my body.

  I glance out the window after I dry off and get dressed to see if she’s still down at the pool. She’s not out there, so I let myself into her room to wait for her. She’s got a pink fuzzy chair that looks like three Muppet babies were killed to make it or her bed to lounge on. I decide to stretch out on the bed and scroll through The Ridge, see what’s going on.

  Griff and I spent the better part of yesterday at Con’s pool party spreading the word about the new girl, Lilith, being off limits. Con made some sort of devil deal with Margaux, handing over the majority of the tormenting to her. I wouldn’t trust that viper to hand me a tissue, let alone make an actual deal with her, but he’s a big boy. We’ll be there when shit inevitably goes south.

  Ivy’s phone b
uzzes on the nightstand beside me, and when I glance down, I see it’s a text from Oliver. Her lock screen photo is of the two of them in front of Big Ben this summer. She’s smiling at the camera, and he’s looking at her with her love practically erupting from his eyes. They’re pressed up against each other like magnets.

  I unlock her phone, shaking my head at the fact that her passcode is the same as it was three years ago. I hesitate over invading her privacy like this, but I have to know what I’m up against with fucking Oliver in the picture. I go into their text chain and scroll through all the messages until I come across him saying “I love you.” Fuck if my heart doesn’t seize up in my chest seeing some other asshole saying that to her. I scroll through and see it several other times, and the only thing she ever responds with is a heart emoji. I drop the phone back on the nightstand when I hear the bathroom door open.

  She steps out into the room in a pink terrycloth robe and her hair up in a towel. She does a double take, noticing me sprawled out on her bed again.

  “Make yourself at home,” she drawls sarcastically and giving me the side-eye.

  “Su casa es mi casa,” I say with a smirk.

  “That isn’t remotely correct.” She walks into her closet and closes the door partway over. “What are we doing today? How should I dress?”

  “I figured I’d take you out for brunch, then chill around town for the day. Since we’ll be out in public, I guess you should wear clothes. Although, as far as I’m concerned clothing around me is always optional.”

  “Har har,” she mocks from the closet. “I still need about fifteen minutes to do my makeup.”

  “That’s fine.” I pull up the ESPN app on my phone and start checking scores and highlights. My stomach growls, so I decide to go bug her while she puts all that shit on her face that she doesn’t need. I love her the most when she’s barefaced and her hair is in its wild, naturally curly state.