Vicious: A Dark Bully Reverse Harem Romance (Beautiful Tyrants Book 3)

by Vanessa Winters

  I sank down into his lap on the couch, ready to lay with him and fall asleep in the cold and uncomfortable living room. But as soon as my body touched his, Michael grabbed me harshly by my wrists and pulled me up alongside him in a standing position. He held me at arm’s length and squeezed my wrists so hard that they hurt. There was an angry burning in his eyes.

  “Don’t—do that again,” he said with a growl that I had never heard him use toward me before.

  Adam and Rob showed up at the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” Adam said calmly as he saw Michael holding me by the wrists away from him.

  “Take her out of here,” Michael said as if it were a command that they would follow.

  Much to my surprise and disappointment, both Rob and Adam acted like it was.

  Adam walked up and wrapped his arm around my shoulders and as he pulled me toward him, Michael let go of my wrists. My skin stung from where his nails had dug into me. He was actually angry at me; maybe even furious. But this wasn’t my fault. This was something that was affecting both of us and we should be there for each other instead of pretending like the other didn’t exist.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Adam as he and Rob both walked me back into the bedroom.

  “You need to leave him alone, like we tried to tell you,” Adam said.

  “Why is he so mad with me?” I cried as the three of us sat down on the bed.

  “He’s not mad with you Lisette,” Rob said. “He’s mad with himself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he can’t stop himself from wanting you, and if it turns out that you’re his sister, then in his mind that makes him kind of a monster.”

  “You just need to give this time,” Adam said.

  He pulled me gently back down on the bed to lay down between them and they both curled around me. It wasn’t the same without Michael here. I couldn’t sleep without him. Even when my eyes got heavy and felt as though I couldn’t hold them open, I still couldn’t sleep without him. When they closed, I still saw him even through my eyelids. I saw Michael lying on the couch alone and I saw him crying. I knew that even though it was inside my own head, that was what he was doing out there. In all the situations that we had ever been in, this was the worst. We said that nothing could ever change the fact that we would be together forever, that we would be lovers for as long as we lived, no matter what we had to face together. But neither of us expected this. Not in a million years did either of us think that something like this might happen. This was the one and only thing that actually could keep us from being together, and there was nothing at all that we could do about it.

  Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, because I started to dream. I hadn’t had any dreams in a while, and I was afraid to have one tonight. I knew that any dream that I would have tonight would be filled with fear and remorse and angst. I tried to wake myself up before the dream started, but I couldn’t.

  In my dream, it was only me and Michael there. The other guys weren’t around, our mothers weren’t around, and our fathers weren’t around either. I was glad, at least, for that. Michael and I were sitting on the couch together, except this time there was a blazing fire and a bottle of open wine with half-filled glasses. We talked and laughed about nothing in particular, and Michael rubbed my shoulders. Every once in a while, I would tip my head back to kiss him and he would try to kiss me back and miss and end up kissing the top of my nose instead. The dream was nice, and it felt like things were back to normal and back to the way that they should be. We were relaxed, and in love, and having fun. When the wine bottle was empty, Michael got up to go get another one.

  “Can you bring some water out with you too?” I asked, anticipating that things might start to get heated and that we might both want a sip of cold water after things got hot and heavy and we needed a rest to hydrate and breathe.

  “Sure thing, sis,” Michael said.

  That was when I woke up.

  And it hadn’t been a dream, it was a nightmare.

  I could tell because I woke up with a drenched shirt and a racing heartbeat. It wasn’t difficult to tell where that dream had come from.

  “Are you alright?” Adam asked as both he and Rob sat up in bed.

  Rob grabbed my hand to steady its shaking, and Adam got up to get me one of his clean shirts to put on so that I could take my damp one off.

  “I had a nightmare,” I said.

  I didn’t want to talk about what it was about. After I had put Adam’s shirt on and laid back down, I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t. I knew that Michael was out there not sleeping as well.

  Because this was when we usually were together in our own little world cornered away from the rest of the bullshit that had unfolded ever since we met.

  I wasn’t sure what we were all waiting for. A few days passed by as if we were waiting for some sort of answer or clarification on the situation to drop from the sky, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Every time that Michael and I passed each other in the cabin, it was so uncomfortable that you could practically see the angst hanging in the air between us. Every time we happened to catch each other’s lingering glances, we quickly diverted our eyes and looked away. This couldn’t go on forever.

  Michael had all but moved out of the bedroom completely and was now setting up his makeshift space in the living room. Speaking of moving, neither Adam nor Rob now had immediate plans to move out. They felt like we needed them here in the cabin with us until things were resolved. I was seriously starting to question whether or not things ever would be resolved.

  “Michael, this is ridiculous,” I said one morning as we both went to reach for coffee at the same time. “How long are we going to keep this up?”

  “Keep what up?” he asked without looking at me.

  He knew exactly what I meant, but I still indulged him. “This whole thing where we pretend that we aren’t madly in love and we just try to move through the motions of each day ignoring each other.”

  “I’m not ignoring you, Lisette. Trust me, I wish I could, but instead I can’t help but have my eyes follow you every day,” he said as he reached to pour his coffee.

  I touched my hand to the top of his and he froze. His fingers let go of the coffee and he looked up at me as if he was too scared to move, or too scared that he might inadvertently do something he shouldn’t if he were to move. I stepped closer to him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me with wide and wary eyes.

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I threw my arms around his torso and held onto him in a tight hug. No matter what, we needed to be able to hold onto each other and know that we were always there when we needed each other. For a minute he held still, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around me as well. We stood there hugging each other for a long while. But after several minutes that I didn’t want to end, Michael suddenly let go and pushed me away as if he had suddenly remembered that he shouldn’t have touched me because it would just make matters worse when we had to let go. I wanted to talk to him, but he grabbed his coffee and walked out the back door of the cabin.

  “Have you seen Rob yet this morning?” Adam asked as he came out of the shower.

  “No, why?”

  “He told me that he was going to get some more firewood, but that was like two hours ago, and I’ve been texting him and he’s not answering me.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said.

  Neither of us thought anything else about it, until Michael came back in about an hour later. Still, Rob hadn’t returned with the firewood. Adam told Michael of his concern, and he brushed it off, thinking that Rob probably went on one of his meandering walks. But after several hours, it was too hard to ignore that there was reason to be concerned. We went out into the surrounding woods together and looked for him. There really wasn’t anything here that would attack him or pose a threat, so I was really confused about what could have happened. Worry was starting to settle in, and we only had a couple
more hours now before dark.

  “Where could he have gone?” I asked as we walked further away from the cabin. “I don’t know why he would come all the way out here. Do you think maybe he’s playing some sort of trick?”

  “Rob isn’t much of a trickster,” Michael said.

  “Yes, I know. But it’s not like him to just get up and leave somewhere and not come back. I’m worried about him.”

  Michael gave me a strange look and then conceded to agree with me.

  “There’s no reason to worry,” Michael said as he tried to reassure me.

  But then a piece of silver metal shone up from the ground as it caught the reflection of the sky. Adam reached down to pick it up and take a look at it.

  “This is the ax that Rob brought out with him today,” Adam said.

  “Why would it be so far away from the cabin?” I asked. There was plenty of good wood to chop right next to the cabin.

  “I don’t know,” Adam said.

  “Over here,” Michael said.

  He was just a few steps away from us and was looking at something else that was lying on the ground—Rob’s shoe.

  “Okay,” Michael said. “I think now there may actually be valid reason to worry.”

  I reached into my pocket to grab my phone and tried to dial Rob’s phone number, but there was only a disconnecting sound as soon as the call went through. There was no way to reach him, wherever he was.

  “Let’s go back to the cabin,” Adam said. “Maybe he’s back there already.”

  We walked back to the cabin, but when we got there, there was no sign of Rob.

  “What do we do?” I asked. “Should we call the police?”

  “No,” Michael said. “They’ll only get in the way and make matters worse. We’ll handle this ourselves.”

  “And what exactly is it that we’re handling?” Adam asked.

  Michael looked down at the ground again as we took a different and shorter path home.

  “The mysterious and sudden disappearance of our friend,” Michael answered.

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  Free Preview - Ruthless Saints

  Ruthless Saints

  Chapter One

  BROOKLYN

  Damn, damn, damn.

  I ran down the stairs, yanking on my coat as I went. I was late again, and the Carlisle Manor was not a forgiving household when it came to tardiness. When I got to my car, I prayed a thousand times it would start on the first try—at least just this once. Shoving the key into the ignition, I held my breath, smiling in relief as my beat-up little Civic roared to life right away. I quickly peeled out of the driveway, knowing that if I could hit every light just right, I had a slim chance of being on time—maybe.

  The looming clouds overhead boasted of a storm approaching. A dark storm, swallowing up everything in its path. It reminded me of the Carlisle Family and their fortunes and fames. It reminded me of the rich elite I tailored myself to for my job just to put myself through school. It reminded me of the wasteful byproducts of their parties I swept up after, and the women they trolloped through the house at all hours just to simply shove the scantily-clad women out the door before someone caught them. Not that they’d get into any real trouble. Oh, no. Their money saved them from things like that.

  But apparently, the gods were in a forgiving mood, because I sailed through town effortlessly. Which meant less forethought was given to the work I was about to do just to earn myself a bit of cash. I knew the world wouldn’t stay kind to me, though. And when I hit the front entrance of the sprawling estate, the ‘luck’ I was all too familiar with in my life reared its head again.

  Blocking the gate was a sideways-parked Ferrari, white smoke choking out of the back exhaust. A group of people, too well-dressed to even consider walking the five-hundred feet of concrete to the front door, milled aimlessly around the gate. I pulled up behind the overpriced piece of metal and leaned out the window. The only thing I cared about was trying to gauge if I could slip my car between its bumper and the iron bars. The thick smoke made it hard to see clearly, but I had a feeling I could do it.

  It would definitely be close, though.

  “Ew, Jude. Who’s driving up in a Honda?” A snotty voice that I knew all too well groaned from just beyond my window. Her golden blonde head peered through my windshield, trying to figure out who could possibly be behind the wheel of this car and headed into that house.

  Not like I needed the reminder.

  The vast dissimilarity between my life and theirs was wider than the distance between here and Mars. My only consolation was that I could take refuge in knowing I was not infinitely alone in my situation. Most of the world were mere paupers compared to the upper echelon of the wealthy elite. And when I say ‘wealthy elite,’ I’m not talking about pro football player money or entertainment money. I’m not talking about ten-million dollar contracts a year and owning a first vacation home down in Florida. I’m not even talking about famous actors and actresses that can afford to preach about climate change before dipping in and out of press conferences in their private, gas-guzzling jets!

  No, I’m talking about them.

  The ‘one-percenters’ whose family wealth started in the early days of America’s creation. The people whose net worth isn’t only derived from the land they own and the money they have in the bank, but how much of the world they possess at their fingertips. I’m talking about the top of the one percent. The people who threw their money around in politics to keep their position in life. The people who can’t flood the stock market with their money all at once for fear of crashing the rest of us into oblivion. I’m talking about the kind of wealth that makes The Queen of England look like a woman that might reside in a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. That’s the kind of wealth I’m talking about. And it was gathered right outside this stupid gate.

  Which brings me to the ‘king of heirs’ standing before me—Jude Carlisle.

  Jude was… hard to explain. The man himself was a conundrum of frustratingly sexy with a huge dose of entitled jerk. Unfortunately, he was also the most attractive guy I had ever seen. Tall, ripped, with black curling hair that fell across his forehead and over his ears, he had the tan of someone who never sat inside for very long. He had no idea who I was, but I had worked for his family for a long time, and anytime he was near enough, it was his dark eyes that caught me. His brooding look and laid-back persona told the world he didn't give a fuck, but those eyes said something different. To me, it seemed like he was always watching… and always ready.

  Ready for what? I didn't know.

  This time though, he didn’t even look at me; instead, he flicked a dismissive glance at my car before turning back to the gate. “Just the help,” he said. “Yo, Manuel, you getting this figured out or what?”

  This was directed to the poor security guard, who stood sweating outside the entry house, probably trying to both get the car towed and organize a ride for the group up to the house. I looked at the clock. Crap. My shift started two minutes ago. I sighed and leaned forward.

  Nothing to it but to do it.

  I eased my car slowly past the poor, wounded Ferrari, watching out for the feet of the people loitering at the gate. At one point, I sucked in my breath, absolutely positive I was going to scrape the side of the car that cost more than any home I had ever lived in. But thankfully, I squeezed by. I did it. I got past the loitering million-dollar madness without so much as a hiccup. Now, all I had to do was throttle it up the hill, park my car in the shadows, and throw myself through the front door with as much fervor as they used kicking women out. Easy enough, right? Wrong. Because just as I hit the gas to cruise up to the employee lot, a loud sma
ck sounded, sending me almost completely out of my seat.

  I whipped around to see the smirking face of Jude.

  “Better leave more room next time, Dollface. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining anyone’s car here, would you? Might not be the kind of problem you can get out of.”

  I turned quickly before he could see the murderous rage in my eyes and took off, waiting to press a hand to my chest until I was out of sight.

  What a prick.

  By the time I was parked in the employee lot and made it to the kitchen, I was a solid ten minutes late, and my boss was waiting by the door. I avoided her eyes as I pulled on my apron and stuffed my hair into my Carlisle-approved cap.

  “I know I’m late, ma’am, but Jude’s car was blocking the gate and—”

  “I don’t particularly care to hear your excuses.”

  Mrs. Janey Carlisle never budged an inch. She had more iron than calcium in her bones, and at five-eleven, she cut an impressive figure—her steel gray hair knotted tightly at the nape of her neck. Her long legs boasting of the years she spent in servitude to someone else. Her eyes, piercing and unforgiving.

  Her penchant for perfectly-creased pantsuits only added to the overall effect

  She sighed. “I’m going to have to dock your pay.”

  “But the gate—”

  She leveled me with a look. “When will you learn that the only reason you’re tardy is due to your own poor planning? You have no one to blame but yourself for being late. Now, go. You’ve missed enough of your shift already.” With that, she turned sharply on one heel and left the kitchen.

  I suppressed a grumble as I opened the dishwasher and began to put away the clean dishes. The Carlisle Manor had dozens of low-level employees like me, a number of higher-level employees, such as assistants, chefs, and personal trainers. Plus, there were always guests milling around, enjoying the estate or gawking at the artwork on the walls. You could never be sure you wouldn’t be overheard, and Mrs. Carlisle did not stand for gossipy or whiny employees.