Cruel Riches: A Dark Bully Romance (The Kings of Crestmoore Academy, Book 1)

by Elle East

  “I’ll be here, let me know if you want to talk or if there’s anything you need from me.” His voice was deep and I could feel it reverberating in my core, speaking to the most primitive part of me.

  “Thanks,” I managed to say before he shut the door with one last look at me.

  Alone again, I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I had never had a reaction like that to a guy before. I had had crushes on other guys—of course—but nothing like that, nothing that immediate or intense. It felt like a whole different level. It had felt like he had sucked all the oxygen out of the room with his presence.

  I threw myself back on the bed dramatically. As if my life wasn’t confusing and complicated enough right now, the universe had to throw tall, dark and handsome Dean into it.

  “Thanks a lot universe,” I mumbled sarcastically.

  But I was actually very thankful.

  Crestmoore island was getting closer, and I felt my pulse quickening. I was nervous, and not just because I was starting a day later than the other students because of a mix-up arranging my transportation. I hadn’t been in a place like this in over seven years, not since I was a little kid attending a fancy prep school in Manhattan on a gifted artist scholarship.

  I had been Madeline Addington in those days, still going by my dad’s last name so most kids didn’t even realize I was a scholarship student. The other kids just assumed I came from the very old and very wealthy Addington family—which I guess I kind of did, but I had never met the relatives with whom I shared a last name—and I definitely didn’t share their money, if the scholarship fund hadn’t provided uniforms and supplies for me I would have come to school in cheap knock-off clothes and a plastic backpack.

  The best thing about that rich, snobby elementary school had been my friends, Archer, Brett and Grayson. We had clicked immediately that first day of second grade. Those guys had known each other since they were born because their families ran in the same circles, but after the first couple days of knowing them they made me feel like I was one of them. By the third day we were best friends.

  As a kid I had always thought rich people were mean—because of how my dad’s parents treated us, but getting to know Archer, Brett and Grayson had shown me that not all of them were bad—I wasn’t so sure about their parents though. All of the boys’ parents had places in Manhattan but the guys stayed in the school dorms. I always thought that was weird.

  Every day I had to take three subways and walk twenty minutes to get from our apartment in Queens to the school next to Central Park, but the boys’ parents all lived close—in the case of Brett, his parents lived literally around the corner. When I was young, I didn’t understand, it seemed so strange not to live with your parents, but I just assumed that was something that rich people did. However, as I got older, I realized that the boys’ parents couldn’t be bothered to raise them so they sent them away to expensive schools so they could pay strangers to do it for them. It made me sad to think they had lived that way.

  When my dad was hit by a car and passed away, that was the end of fancy prep school for me. I couldn’t handle both the academic pressure and the grief at the same time so I dropped out in fifth grade. The end of that fancy prep school was also the end of my friendship with those three boys. I was self absorbed in my pain and didn’t reach out to them and I guess they were too wrapped up in their extravagant world, that I was never a real part of, to reach out to me. All rich people are assholes anyway—even if they don’t start out that way—that’s what I learned from my dad’s family.

  We were getting close. The island loomed up in front of us and I could see the top of the huge red brick building over the trees. The ferry pulled into the harbor, a circular shape cut out of the island. I took a deep breath as I gazed up at the imposing site before me.

  “Here we go,” I whispered.

  Chapter 2

  The harbor was made up of several docks jutting out into the wild, blue water of the small bay. There was a hill that ran up from the waterline and in a semicircle that hugged the curve of the bay was a giant set of white stairs leading up the hill. The stairs were impressive—and must be a bitch to keep clean, but that was the housekeeper in me talking. One of the part-time jobs I took to help pay for my mom’s cancer treatments was cleaning houses.

  Crestmoore school rose up and sat on top of the hill, towering over the harbor. It was an intimidating building. Everything was trimmed in white which contrasted luxuriously with the dark red brick that made up the entire structure. The black roofs were steep and came to severe points. There were three massive entrance doors that stood behind three massive stone archways. I could see at least a dozen towers from where I stood. The building was covered in large windows made of squares of metal-rimmed glass, as well as smaller circular ones. The building was slightly curved to match the shape of the stairs. The place looked like a castle—but a castle that had just been built last year.

  I must have been gawking for a while because one of the ferry workers came over to tell me we had already landed and it was time for me to get off.

  “Oh,” I said in surprise.

  I turned around and grabbed my backpack off the bench. I followed the crewman down the wooden stairs and off the quaint and spotlessly maintained antique ferry.

  “Where are my things?” I asked, looking around.

  I didn’t have a lot, all my personal stuff was in my backpack, but my uniforms and school supplies were in the cheap, black luggage Detective Smith had given me.

  “A porter will bring it up to your room, Miss,” he said with a bow and I was a little taken aback. No one had ever bowed to me before.

  I didn’t know how to respond so I gave a little curtsey. The guy gave me a weird look so I guess that was the wrong response but he quickly left and I turned my attention back to the school. I looked up the steep hill. The school seemed to call to me, “You don’t belong here.” I already knew that though.

  I looked around the dock but it didn’t look like there was anyone there to greet me so I guessed that I was on my own. I started walking up the paved path which led to the stairs. They were an impressive architectural feature. I had a bit of an interest in architecture because I just loved art, in any form.

  I was out of breath when I reached the top. Being a New Yorker, I was used to walking a ridiculous amount on a daily basis but those stairs were still a challenge. The school rose above me, impassive and yet ominous. I took a second to pretend to admire the view, but really I was just catching my breath—and working up the nerve to enter the building.

  From this vantage point I could see the rugged coast of Maine in the distance. The sun was high and reflected off the calm water surrounding the island. The natural harbor was beautiful, a rocky bay cut out of the surrounding trees. I had looked up information about the island before I got here and so I knew it was in the shape of a long, warped crescent. The island wasn’t too large, but it was big enough to hold a massive school, a large football stadium, tennis courts, indoor swimming pools, a couple dormitories, several miles of forest, and a tiny village for staff.

  After a couple minutes, I realized that I couldn’t put it off forever. Taking a deep breath, I turned around. The school loomed over me as I walked up the front path. I walked under one of the three archways, pulled open the heavy door and was swallowed by the school.

  My footsteps were loud in the entrance hall. They echoed across the marble floors, against the wood and white stone walls and up towards the towering ceiling that seemed miles above my head. I stared in awe at the place. It was the most beautiful building I had ever seen in my life. I walked a little farther into the cavernous space, trying to walk softly so that my footsteps didn’t seem so loud. The place was deserted.

  In front of me there was a huge marble staircase that split into two halfway up and one section went right and the other went left, leading to the second floor that was probably two stories above the ground where I was standing. The
re were hallways all around me branching off from the massive lobby, but nothing gave me any indication of where the administration office might be.

  I slowly wandered around and peeked down a couple halls. They all seemed to stretch on forever, with rows and rows of beautiful, ornate wooden doors lining each side. Some doors had numbers stamped on brass plates next to them but no words. I hadn’t seen a soul, and I found myself standing in the middle of the entrance hall at a loss of what to do.

  Suddenly I heard a pair of footsteps at the top of the stairs. I spun around and looked up. Descending the stairs at a leisurely pace was a guy. He was tall and lean. He had a very relaxed and self-assured manner about the way he moved—almost cocky. I could see that he was wearing the guy version of the school uniform, slim-cut black pants, black Oxford shoes, white collared long-sleeved shirt, black blazer, and tie with the dark, subtle tartan pattern that the girl’s skirts were made of. I hadn’t thought much about the uniform but the way this guy wore it, effortless and like it was a second skin, made it look good.

  As he came closer, I could start seeing the angular lines of his face, the sharp cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass. The little smirk on his lips that looked like it was a permanent feature. The thick, wavy, dark brown hair that was effortlessly swept over and cut in an undercut and as he continued to get closer, I could see there were patterns in the shaved sides. He had a nose ring and I could see that there were dark patterns on the backs of his hands which I quickly realized were tattoos.

  I must have been gawking and as I looked back up at his face, our eyes locked. He had dark, mischievous eyes that were narrowed in a way that made him look like he was constantly searching for something—or someone—to laugh at.

  Man, this guy is hot, I thought, and I started to feel a little unsteady on my feet. But as he got closer recognition hit me like a slap in the face.

  Grayson.

  I hadn’t seen him in seven years and in that time he had changed so much. He was no longer a scrawny kid with too much hair; he was now this tall, intimidating, super hot guy who’s hands were covered in tattoos and who could command a room as gigantic as this entrance hall just by walking into it. He had grown up.

  I took a large gulp. I was suddenly hyper aware of my body. I could feel the straps of my backpack biting into my shoulders. My cheap black tights and oversized jean jacket with holes in it suddenly made me very self conscious.

  “Maddy,” his voice floated down the stairs ahead of him. It was deep and rich and sounded like a purr.

  The way he said my name was so sexy I almost melted in to a puddle right then on the floor.

  “Grayson!” I managed to get out. “How are you? Long time no see.”

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the echoing marble floor until we were standing face-to-face.

  “I’m good,” he said.

  That smirk and those eyes made him seem like he thought everything was amusing.

  He reached around me and I suddenly found myself in his strong arms. The warm spicy smell of cloves mixed with the green scent of moss overwhelmed me. He smelled so good. He smelled so much like a guy. I could feel his solid body against mine and his muscles through our clothes as he held me tightly.

  All too soon he was releasing me and stepped back—before I had even had the chance to return the hug. I was a little flustered by the contact and also by seeing him again after so long. It brought back a rush of emotions, seeing one of my best friends again. He was at once familiar but also a stranger. He had changed so much in the intervening years.

  Our time together when we were kids came back to me in a flood. This was the same boy that I used to sneak into an abandoned storage closet with after school so we could draw and talk for hours when he didn’t want to go back to his dorm. This was the boy who, after I had gotten detention for accidentally hitting another kid in the face with a basketball, had purposely knocked over a coatrack just so I wouldn’t have to be in detention alone. This was the boy who encouraged me to be an artist when I was crying because my teacher told me I needed to be realistic and pick a proper career. This was the boy with whom I would laugh for hours about nothing. But he was no longer that boy.

  I was excited to see him but also confused about what I was feeling. I remembered all the good times together, but I also remember how he didn’t try to contact me after I left our old school. How he hadn’t been there for me after my dad died. How we were supposed to be best friends forever but all it took was me going to public school for him to realize I wasn’t worth his time, that I didn’t belong in his world.

  “So good to see you,” he said warmly. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good!—well, I’ve been ok, I guess. You don’t seem that surprised to see me?”

  He looked at me like I had just said a joke. “We know everything that happens at this school.”

  “We? So you, Archer and Brett are still friends?”

  His eyes went dark for just a split second before they went back to mirthful. If I had blinked just then I would have missed it.

  “Of course. We will be friends until the day we die. True friendships don’t just evaporate over time. Loyalty is the most important thing in this world, it lets you know who you’re real friends are.”

  I winced internally. Was that a subtle jab at me? Yeah, I hadn’t stayed in contact with them but my dad had just died; I was having the worst time of my life. They never reached out to me either—and they weren’t going through an emotional crisis at the time.

  “Cool. I’m glad you guys are still close,” I manage to say. “It’s really nice to see you again. This school is amazing.”

  “A little better than East Heights, huh?” he asked with a smirk and my eyes narrowed. That was my old high school.

  “How did you know that?”

  He shrugged casually. “Like I said, we know everything.”

  An uneasy feeling started to settle over me.

  “Uh-huh… well, then you know why I’m here?” I asked pointedly.

  “Scholarship student,” he said without missing a beat.

  I felt a small sense of relief but wasn’t able to shake that uneasy feeling.

  “Yup!” I said, without enthusiasm. “All my hard work over the last couple years has paid off, and I finally made it back into a good school.”

  The cover story Detective Smith had given me was that I earned a prestigious scholarship to attend Crestmoore, which wasn’t too outlandish given my history of getting that previous scholarship and also that my marks were excellent, I had the top grades at my old school. I took this school thing seriously. My education at that primary school by Central Park had taught me how to work hard and challenge myself. Their academic standards were so grueling that when I went back to public school, my classes were a piece of cake and I was almost immediately scoring the best marks. My fancy childhood education had taught me the value of school, it was the way I would bring myself and my mom out of poverty.

  Even though getting into Crestmoore was a fluke that had nothing to do with my marks and everything to do with me knowing Archer, Brett and Grayson, I would not let this opportunity go to waste. I would work my ass off while at the same time playing undercover cop and getting my mom out of jail.

  Grayson was smiling. “Congratulations on the scholarship, you should be proud of all the hard work you did to get it. I hope I didn’t startle you by knowing about it, because give it a day or two and everyone else in this school will know about it too.”

  What the hell did that mean? I wondered.

  “Thanks, I guess?” I answered. “Well, it was really nice seeing you again, we should hang out and catch up.”

  “Oh definitely,” Grayson agreed enthusiastically with a warm smile.

  He reached out and touched my arm affectionately. Heat spread through my body, radiating from our contact point.

  I didn’t know why I had felt weird moments before, Grayson had been nice and welcoming—
if a little intense—and a twinge of guilt shot through me. I was trying to ruin their lives. Maybe what I was doing was wrong?

  I needed space from him. I needed to think and being in his presence was overwhelming.

  “Hey, do you know where the admin office is? I need my class schedule and my room assignment and stuff. This place is crazy, it’s like a maze and I have no clue where to go.”

  “Yeah for sure, if you’re not used to it this place can be overwhelming. You see that hall there?”

  He got close to me while pointing. I was once again able to smell his spicy green scent and had trouble paying attention to what he was saying.

  “Yeah.”

  “The office is the first door on the right.”

  He stepped back, and I was able to think again.

  “Great, thanks so much! Talk to you later, Grayson.”

  My footsteps echoed as I walked away from him towards the door he had indicated. It was hidden in a little alcove.

  “Oh, and Maddy?” he called out as my hand touched the door handle. I turned my head to look at him. “So nice to have you back.”

  He gave me a warm smile that lit up his face and made his angular features look less dangerous. Heat flooded through me.

  It felt really good to see him. Despite my anger towards them for not being there for me when I needed them, seeing Grayson again felt so familiar—and yet so new at the same time. I didn’t realize how much I had missed him until he was right there in front of me.

  I hadn’t expected to have that reaction. I thought I’d be able to get in, do my job like a cold-blooded hitman and get out. I thought the residual anger I had towards them for abandoning me would carry me through to the end. I had thought this would be easy, but looking at my childhood best friend who had turned into this gorgeous, intimidating guy, I knew that Crestmoore would be anything but easy.

  “Thanks.” I smiled back genuinely. “It’s nice to be back.”