Hu Money: A Forbidden Bully Romance (The Dirty Money Duet Book 1)

by BL Mute

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2021 BL Mute

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher or author.

  EDITOR: One Love Editing

  FORMATTING: TRC Designs

  COVER DESIGN: The Hatter’s Author Services

  DEDICATION

  To Kailee.

  Thanks for letting me know—without shame—how you flicked your bean to my words.

  Our friendship has now reached a new level.

  Here is to another 10 years and reaching even more levels.

  I love you.

  WARNING

  Readers, please know this book contains dark subject matter. If you normally require a trigger warning, consider this that.

  I don’t want to give away any details and ruin Lydia, Carter, and Malcolm’s story, so just know: This book contains a lot of things that you may say are wrong, but for their story to be authentic to them, it had to be described.

  These characters aren’t typical. They have a lot of emotions, secrets, and sides.

  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

  XOX, BL

  PLAYLIST

  Hatefuck – Cruel Youth

  Daddy Issues – The Neighborhood

  Like That – Bea Miller

  Guy My Age – Hey Violet

  Devil in Paradise – Cruel Youth

  idfc – Blackbear

  Burn It All – The Dean’s List

  MakeDamnSure – Taking Back Sunday

  Girls Your Age – Transviolet

  Find the whole playlist on Spotify here.

  PROLOGUE

  LYDIA

  My normal never used to be fucking anything with a pulse, partying with people I shouldn’t, or snorting more drugs than a Hoover vacuum does dirt.

  I was always the good girl, until I wasn’t… and I guess it all started with my dad’s death.

  I remember coming home from a day out with Carmen, my best friend, and he and Mom sitting me down in the living room to tell me about his diagnosis.

  Now, this wasn’t something that seemed too odd. We always had family discussions about random shit, but what was different were their faces.

  My dad’s stare was vacant, cold, distant. All the things it never used to be. And Mom… Mom was full of hysterics. Sure, she wasn’t crying so hard she couldn’t breathe or anything like that, but I could tell from the red rims circling her eyes and smudged eyeliner under them that she had been crying—and that alone was so bizarre. Mom never cried.

  You see, we all used to be different. Dad was always a bubbly baritone. Someone who commanded everyone’s attention in a room just from his dynamic personality. And Mom used to be quiet, poised, a solid stone with no emotions other than joy, and the arm ornament Dad prided himself on wearing. They were the perfect couple with the perfect daughter until that dreaded doctor’s appointment.

  Cancer. Such a foreign, dirty, six-letter word.

  Life took a dramatic turn after we found out Dad had colon cancer—stage four at that. And when we learned we had maybe a few years left with him, if we were lucky, everything kind of spiraled even more.

  When you’re rich and have everything life has to offer, you don’t think anything bad can happen to you. No one can touch you—you form a god complex—but as much as you would hate to admit it, none of that is true. And I’ve learned that firsthand.

  Even being one of the richest families in Bexley Falls, owning one of the most prestigious country clubs in the state, and having anything we want with a simple snap of our fingers, my dad still died. Rich or not, it was the inevitable, and I couldn’t change it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LYDIA

  The music sounds broken up and distant. The bass of the speakers pulsates through my body, vibrating my eardrums and making my heart beat a little bit faster, which excites me. I keep my eyes closed, running my fingers through my long hair, as my body moves in sync with the beat of whatever song is playing.

  When the song ends and another starts, I open my eyes and look to Carmen. Her ass is parked right on the ugly, mustard-yellow couch next to a guy who is clearly too old to be at a high school party, and I can see it in her eyes. She’s about to barf, which is my cue to save her.

  I always save her.

  I roll my eyes and leave the middle of the makeshift dance floor, strolling over to her. When I stop in front of Carmen, the guy next to her widens his eyes as he looks me up and down. I don’t blame him; I know I’m hot. Something about my thin fame, wide hips, and large tits always gets them, but it’s my face I feel that seals the deal.

  My long blonde hair frames my oval face, showcasing my full lips and button nose, while shining a stark contrast on my blue eyes. But older boys aren’t my thing; they’re Carmen’s.

  As I cross my arms, her eyes find mine. “What’s the matter, babe? Need a smoke break?”

  She nods with a fake smirk, then stands. “Please.”

  Her long tan legs wobble the slightest bit, but she corrects herself before anyone else can notice. “You stay, boy,” she says, patting the guy’s head as she stands over him.

  I do my best to hide the laugh forming in my throat as I hook my arm with hers and lead her past the crowd of other people, the spiral staircase, and to the front door. I pull it open and step out with her still tucked into my side. “Over there, Carmen,” I say, pointing to the lush bushes lining the front of the mini mansion we’re partying at.

  Instead of a thank-you, she nods vigorously before stomping down the front steps with her hand over her mouth. I shake my head with a small laugh before she disappears around the corner to blow chunks in private.

  Carmen and I have been friends since preschool, so this is nothing new to me. I only come to these parties to make sure no one fucks with her. Since she’s so beautiful—with her supermodel legs, long, perfectly straight, dark hair, and symmetrical face—she’s the envy of most girls, and the perfect wet dream come to life for even more boys.

  Not only that, but her father owns one of t
he biggest hotel chains on the West Coast. Most people hate her for all she is or all she has, but she couldn’t care less.

  I plop down on the steps and pull my pack of cigarettes from the side of my bra. I pluck one from the box and spark it up, taking in a long drag, then blow it out into the dark night.

  “Still babysitting Carmen, I see,” a deep voice says from the other side of the porch.

  I don’t need to turn to see who it belongs to because I already know.

  Carter McLane.

  I wouldn’t say Carter and I are friends because we aren’t, but his dad, Malcolm, is my father’s business partner and partial owner to Walton McLane Country Club. He and I have grown up together too in a sense. We were playing on the floor during business meetings while in diapers. And as we got older, we would run around the fountain at the club, chasing butterflies, when the smoke from the cigars at parties got too much.

  I guess when puberty hit us both was when we lost what little bond we had, but it doesn’t bother me. Now he’s nothing more than a carbon copy of his dad. Perverted. Self-absorbed. Arrogant. And a total asshole.

  I take another puff from my cigarette. “Like it’s any of your business,” I snap back.

  “Damn, Bunny. Why so hostile? I thought we were friends.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  I cringe at the nickname he gave me when we were younger.

  Bunny.

  It sounds cute, but really it was an insult. A way to make fun of the way I ran away from him.

  “Not hostile, Carter, just real.” I shrug.

  As I take another drag from my cigarette, I can feel him move behind me. His knees crack as he squats down, but I still don’t turn around. “Or maybe”—his hot breath hits my ear—“you just haven’t been fucked good in a while. That’s why you’re so snappy.”

  I let out a chuckle, then flick my cigarette onto the freshly cut grass. As I stand, I feel his body lightly brush my back, but when I turn around, he’s still crouched down. “Carter, you’re not getting into my pants.” It’s a statement I made before and I’ll probably make again.

  Carter is a whore. He sleeps with anything with legs and leaves them high and dry the next morning, and that’s not something I want to be a part of. Maybe at one point in time I did. I liked him because he was sweet—he was my friend. But that shifted drastically one day and hasn’t been the same since.

  As the last word leaves my mouth, he stands to his full six-foot height and towers over me. His sandy-brown hair spills over his forehead as his chiseled jaw tics, and his amber eyes bore into me. “Come on, Lydia. It could be fun.” He smiles, showing me every last one of his pearly white teeth.

  I huff. “You see, Carter—” I run my finger down the buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his belt buckle. “—you and I would never work together. You couldn’t handle me.”

  He lowers his head so his lips are hovering above mine. He’s so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Let me be the judge of that.”

  I skim my lips over his lightly. “I haven’t forgotten how you said all I would ever be good for is a fuck, so no, thank you.” I lay my hands flat on his chest and push him away hard.

  As he steadies himself, he lets out a dark laugh. “It was a compliment, for fuck’s sake.”

  I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Well, that was hot.” I turn and see Carmen making her way back to the porch as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You two really should just fuck already.”

  Carter rolls his eyes at me, then glances to her. “How about you and I fuck, Carmen?”

  As she starts up the steps, her face scrunches up. “Ew,” she replies with a shiver.

  “Ah, I forgot you like old dick that can only stay up with the help of pills,” he spits back, but Carmen doesn’t deny it. She’s always had a thing for boys older than her.

  The door behind us opens and a small brunette steps out, killing the conversation. She shimmies by Carter, making sure her hips scape across his front.

  “Fuck off, Carter,” Carmen finally remarks, waving her hand around.

  His eyes stay glued on the girl who passes me, and Carmen and is starting down the brick walkway. “Don’t mind if I do.” He hurries down the steps and sprints to catch up with the girl.

  Once he’s beside her, he throws his arm over her shoulder, then turns and sends a wink in my direction before they disappear.

  “I was serious, you know?” Carmen says, breaking my stare from where Carter and the girl disappeared.

  I snap my eyes to hers. “What?”

  “You and Carter. You guys need to fuck—squash all of that built-up tension. I bet it would be hot.” She plops onto the steps and leans her head onto the banister. “Hot and dirty…” She trails off.

  “You’re clearly drunk and delusional,” I laugh. “I’ll get us an Uber.”

  “Maybe I am, but it’ll happen. And when it does, I want every detail. Carter is hot as fuck, and I bet his dick is huge.”

  As I finish putting her address into the app, I laugh. “He’s also an asshole, but why don’t you sleep with him?”

  She squints her eyes at me with a knowing look. “Maybe he’s an asshole for a good reason.” She shrugs, ignoring my question.

  I shake my head and sit down beside her, not pressing it further. “I don’t think so. I’ve never done anything to him, yet he’s nothing but mean to me and treats me like a piece of ass.”

  Now she laughs. “Name one person in this fucked-up town that doesn’t treat you like a piece of ass.” When I stay silent, she laughs again. “Exactly.”

  I let out a breath and lean my head on her shoulder. She’s right. Bexley Falls isn’t like other places, or at least I’m assuming so. I’ve never lived anywhere else.

  Bexley Falls has been my home my whole seventeen years of life. It’s a small city that houses the rich and elite. Teens drive Maseratis and Bentleys, there is no school, only private tutors that report to the state, and all the homes are elegant and lush. No one gives a fuck about your feelings or opinions; all they care about is how much your house cost or what designer shoes you’re wearing.

  I sigh again and start softly swaying side to side, following the soft beat humming from behind the closed door, as Carmen floats in and out of consciousness from all the booze she drank.

  After a few minutes, a black Escalade pulls up, so I hoist Carmen up and drag her to the car. I push her inside after opening the door, then slip in beside her.

  Once the SUV starts to roll, I pull my stash of bills from the other side of my bra and lean forward. “I want to drop her at the address I put in, but then I need you to take me to the top of Lexington Way.”

  The man just nods as I hand him two one-hundred-dollar bills. I don’t need to explain where Lexington Way is because everyone around here knows it’s the only private road at the peak of the tallest hill.

  I settle back into the leather seat and lay Carmen’s head in my lap. As the world passes by outside the windows, I twirl her raven hair around my fingers.

  Another few minutes pass before the SUV slows to a crawl in front of Carmen’s house. Her place is more modern than mine. There are three levels of black brick with crystal-clear glass along every balcony. A meticulously kept lawn with no decoration or sculptures like most of the homes around here, but it still processes the same beauty and exudes its luxury.

  When the car finally stops, I shake her lightly and open the door. “Come on, girlie. You’re home.”

  Groggily, she sits up, then stumbles out of the back and lets me escort her to the door. Immediately, lights flicker on and a voice sounds out from the intercom system as we stop at the top of the steps. “Miss Lydia.” I recognize William’s voice immediately. “I’ll be right out.”

  A moment later, the door opens and William, the Schultzes’ oldest and most trusted butler, scoops Carmen into his arms.

  “I’ll see you next time,
William.” I smile as he pulls her inside.

  “Yes. Safe travels home.” He smiles over his shoulder.

  I salute him as I step backward down the steps and head back to the waiting SUV. William has always been kind to me, even though most of the time the only time he sees me is when I bring Carmen home drunk. And maybe that’s why he’s so trusted by the Shultzes. He keeps their dirty laundry tightly tucked away and cleans up any messes before they can become a scandal whispered within the streets of Bexley Falls. Because here, the only thing worse than generic things is being the center of a scandal.

  And Carmen knows that after the incident with a former tutor/teacher.

  I slip back into the SUV and close the door. Slowly, the car moves again. I watch as the scenery outside the window starts to morph into more familiar territory. My house sits illuminated in a soft light at the top of the hill, peeking through the trees. When we turn onto Lexington Way, the trees grow thicker the further we drive, until finally all the greenery breaks and my house is the only thing sitting in the vast opening.

  As the car creeps slowly down the drive, I take in all the recognizable surroundings. The cobblestone laid in an intricate pattern with fastidious care all the way along the driveway. The grass perfectly trimmed and greener than the most precious emeralds. And our house… Black mulch edges all along the base of the two-story structure with different-colored flowers rooted deep within it as ivy stretches up the sides, nestling its way in every crack or crevasse the brick gives, clinging to the side of the house.

  I grew up here. It’s the only home I’ve ever known, but for some reason, I feel so disconnected. It doesn’t feel like a home anymore. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older now and realize I’ll have to leave soon. Go to college, make a life for myself, or the fact I know my dad won’t be here anymore. And a home can’t be a home without both parents, right?

  It’s only been six months since we got dad’s diagnosis, but it feels like a lifetime. The constant ups and down’s in his health, the surgeries, the doctors’ visits… It’s starting to take a toll on me, but I can only imagine how it’s making him feel.