Twisted Elite: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Royal Falls Elite Prequel)

by Kristin Buoni

  Armstrong held his hand up again. “Don’t even try to talk up that fucking place to me. It’s an absolute disgrace, and we all know it. I’d rather send her to prison than let her go back,” he seethed. “Now, where the hell is she?”

  A petite brunette girl in a silvery gown was crossing the room now, heading toward the three men with wide eyes and a strangely out-of-place grin. “Dad, what are you doing?” she asked before erupting into a giggling fit that was wildly inappropriate for the tense moment.

  Armstrong turned his stony face to her and grabbed her right forearm. “I’m getting you away from these people, sweetheart. Come on.”

  She pulled away. “No! I’m having fun with my friends. You’re embarrassing me!”

  Even though she claimed to be embarrassed, she looked anything but that. Her cheeks were lit with a happy glow, and she wouldn’t stop smiling and giggling.

  “You’re coming home with me right now, and you aren’t setting foot on that god-forsaken campus ever again,” Armstrong said. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but he was close enough for me to hear him, along with anyone else in a ten foot radius.

  “You can’t take me away from my school!” his daughter said, expression turning more serious now. “I love it there!”

  “Too bad. You’re coming home, and you don’t have a say in the matter,” Armstrong replied, grabbing her arm again.

  She slumped against him in defeat as he yanked her toward the exit. As they passed, I could see that her pupils were extremely dilated. No wonder she was so giggly and wild-eyed. She was clearly high on something.

  That must’ve been what her father was so mad about. Someone at her school had introduced her to drugs, and she was losing her way.

  My chest tightened at the thought, and I pursed my lips. If I was lucky enough to get a scholarship to a place like RFA, which practically guaranteed acceptance to any college in the world after graduation, I would buckle down and work my ass off. No drinking or partying. Nothing that could jeopardize my newfound opportunity.

  “So what was it you were saying about this party being stiff and boring?” Hunter said in an amused tone, turning back to me.

  I laughed. “Hey, you agreed with me, didn’t you?”

  “True.” He flashed me another dazzling smile, and I almost melted right into the floor. “I’m not keeping you from work, am I?” he added, smile fading slightly.

  “Not really. I’m meant to be taking a quick break anyway.”

  “Cool.” He nodded slowly. “Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What time do you finish up?”

  “Whenever the party ends, I guess. Around midnight, maybe?”

  “We should hang out properly then. I can give you a tour of the place.”

  I could feel my cheeks turning pink again. “Sure. I’d like that,” I replied, hoping I sounded cool and casual. Yeah, no biggie. Just hanging out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in the biggest house I’ve ever stepped foot in. Totally an everyday occurrence for me.

  “There aren’t any guys in your life who might get jealous of me keeping you here, are there?” Hunter asked, raising his brows. “I only ask because I can’t imagine a girl like you being single.”

  I knew what that meant. Be cool, be cool, be cool, I chanted inside my head.

  “Well… I do live with a man,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. “He’s very protective, and he’ll probably get mad if I’m not home by a certain time. But I guess he’ll just have to get over it.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Nope.”

  Hunter frowned, shoulders stiffening. “So you have a boyfriend?”

  I flashed a mischievous grin at him. “A terrier. His name is Mignon.”

  “Fuck…” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Can’t believe I fell for that shit.”

  I laughed and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. Some of it got caught in the necklace I had tucked under my blouse (I never left home without it, but it seemed unprofessional to have it out on display while waitressing). I grimaced and yanked it out, trying to detangle it.

  Hunter’s smile vanished. “Where did you get that?” he asked, nodding toward my chest.

  “The necklace?” I asked as I pulled the dark wayward strands of hair out of the tiny silver loops.

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me.

  “It was a birthday gift from my mom,” I said, tucking it back under my top.

  “Your mom got you an L pendant?” he said, crossing his arms. “I thought you said your name was Delaney.”

  “It is, but everyone calls me Laney for short,” I said, wondering why he was suddenly acting so weirdly. It was just a necklace.

  “What year were you born in?” he asked, apropos of nothing.

  “2001,” I said, furrowing my brows. “You?”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he rubbed his neck and took a step back. “One of my friends just got here. I have to talk to him,” he said stiffly. “I’ll see you around, Laney.”

  “But didn’t you want to hang out lat—”

  Before I could even get my sentence all the way out, Hunter was gone, striding over to the other side of the ballroom without a single glance back at me.

  “Okay, then,” I muttered to myself, wondering how and why things had taken such a strange turn. Hunter was openly flirting with me, and then everything had soured over… nothing, really. It seemed as if he didn’t like my necklace, but that wasn’t a reason to suddenly dislike a person.

  Maybe he was one of those guys who hated anything even remotely vulgar and unrefined. Name and letter necklaces were a little outdated and gaudy, I suppose, compared to fine jewelry, and when he approached me earlier, one of the very first things he said was ‘I hate to sound like a walking cliché’, so he obviously didn’t like clichés and tackiness.

  If my supposedly-bad taste in jewelry was all it took for him to lose interest in me, then I never even stood a chance. Oh well. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much more than snobbery and derision from a Royal Falls guy.

  Before I could ponder the matter any further, Charles Connery strode up to me and cleared his throat. “Delaney, isn’t it? Ava’s daughter?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He patted my shoulder. “You’ve grown up. I think you were only thirteen or fourteen the last time I saw you,” he said, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Your hair is different now, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a bit longer, yes,” I replied, pasting on a smile. I knew he was probably just being polite. We’d met a few times over the years, because of my mom’s work here, but I didn’t expect a man like him to actually remember what I looked like.

  “Anyway,” he went on. “Do you think you’d be willing to do me a favor?”

  “Of course, Mr. Connery.”

  “You’ve met Jean, I presume?”

  I nodded. Jean was one of the other maids working here tonight.

  “Well, it seems she ate something on her break that she mistakenly thought was gluten-free. She has celiac disease, so she’s just dashed off to the bathroom, and I can only assume she’ll be in there for quite some time.”

  “Oh, no. Do you want me to go and take care of her?” I asked, brows shooting up with concern. A girl at Silvercreek High had celiac, and she once vomited blood in our dingy cafeteria after a guy forcibly kissed her as part of a twisted ‘joke’. He’d eaten a sandwich for lunch, and just a few tiny crumbs from his lips was enough to make the girl horribly ill.

  Charles waved a hand. “No, no, she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. I was actually wondering if I could trust you to take over her position tonight.”

  My forehead creased. “Her position? Isn’t she just serving drinks and food like me?”

  “In a manner of speaking. She’s been serving the upstairs guests.”

  My frown deepened. �
��Upstairs guests?”

  I’d noticed Jean walking up and down the stairs a few times, but it had never occurred to me that she was serving guests on the upper levels. I’d simply observed her movements and never given them a second thought. She was just like me—the deferential help, making her way around the party like a polite little elf, only noticed if she screwed up.

  Charles moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “Some of the guests at my parties prefer something a little quieter. More intimate. They take the rooms in the south wing of the house, on both the second and third levels. Occasionally, they want things like champagne and food brought to them, and that’s where Jean usually comes in.”

  “Oh, I see.” So I was wrong earlier, I thought. There was a wild side to Royal Falls parties.

  He held out a phone. “They send orders via text to this phone, along with their location, and you get what they want from the kitchen and deliver it to them. You can reach the south wing from here by going up the stairs and taking a left on the landing. Another staircase at the end of the second-floor hall will take you up to the third floor if necessary.”

  “All right. I can do that.”

  “Good,” he said, giving me a curt nod. “You can be discreet, can’t you?”

  I smiled. “Of course.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. Some—if not all—of the party guests upstairs were screwing their brains out, and they didn’t want anyone talking about it.

  Charles returned my smile. “Good. Oh, and something else—the rooms aren’t numbered like some sort of hotel, but there is an easy way to tell where the people are. Each room has a different gold emblem on the door. One is a star, another is a crescent moon, and so on. When the guests put in their orders, they’ll mention which room they’re in using that emblem.”

  Wow. He had a full-on private party setup in the south wing. That was cool, even if it was a little strange at the same time.

  “Understood,” I replied.

  “Thank you, Delaney. I knew I could trust you to help me out.” Charles smiled again and handed the phone to me. It started buzzing right away. “Oh, look at that. Your first order.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I read the message with a furrowed brow, hoping I wouldn’t let Charles down. If I did, I’d be letting my mom down as well.

  Champagne and 2 glasses @ Crescent room on 2nd floor, the message said. No please or thanks. Just straight to the point.

  I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle out of a champagne bucket, along with two glasses. Then I headed up to the second floor and turned left.

  The first half of the south wing was a sprawling collection of intimate rooms with comfortable furniture and dark wood-paneled hidey-holes that seemed custom-designed for making out. Some young people, presumably RFA students, were filling those spots, making loud smacking noises as their lips and bodies crashed together.

  I ignored them and headed farther down the hall, toward the private rooms. It was much quieter at this end of the house. Much darker too. The hall was lit only by small, flickering candles set in bronze sconces on the walls.

  Squinting, I located the room with the crescent emblem and knocked on the door. A middle-aged man stuck his head out a moment later. He was shirtless and beaded with sweat, and he grinned when he spotted me. “Ah, our drinks. Thanks, darling.” He winked and tucked a twenty dollar bill in my pocket.

  “Wow, thank you, sir,” I said, marveling at the size of the tip. Twenty might not seem like much, but if only ten people put in orders for the upstairs rooms tonight, and each gave me the same tip, I’d make enough to pay every cent of the electricity bill. All that without even counting the money I was already getting paid for waitressing tonight.

  If I was lucky, I might walk out of here with over three hundred bucks.

  Over the next hour, I received twenty more orders. Some for champagne and cocktails, some for romantic foods like chocolate-dipped strawberries, and others demanding full hot meals. Not everyone tipped me as well as the first guy, but by the time I’d dropped off the twentieth order at the Tulip room all the way up on the third floor, I’d made $225 in tips. Also, the people I delivered the stuff to actually acknowledged my existence by smiling and thanking me every single time.

  This was actually turning out to be a decent night after all.

  Wiping another bead of sweat off my brow, I sank into a plush chair back in the make-out zone on the second floor while I waited for another order to come in. I figured I was allowed to relax between orders, because when I was filling one, I had to race up and down the stairs and hallways to get it done as fast as possible. Not an easy feat in such an enormous mansion.

  About three minutes later, the phone buzzed again. Two French martinis, please.

  They hadn’t specified their room in writing, but they’d left a flower emoji at the end of the message. That didn’t help me out much. Several of the third-floor rooms had floral emblems on them. So far I’d seen a tulip, an orchid, a carnation, and a poppy, all beautifully carved out of gold.

  I shot back a quick text. Hi, sorry, which room is this? There are a few flower-themed ones so I’m not sure.

  I waited thirty seconds, but no response came through. With a sigh, I got up and headed downstairs to get the martinis anyway. By the time they were finished, the person might’ve responded.

  Five minutes later, there was still no reply to my message. I took the drinks tray up to the third floor and slowly trudged down the dim hall, frowning as I tried to use the process of elimination to figure out which room the martinis were wanted in. It couldn’t be the Tulip room, because they’d just ordered a whole bottle of wine only ten minutes ago, so I doubted they wanted any more drinks. That still left quite a lot of options, though.

  I groaned as I realized I would have to knock on each door and possibly disturb and annoy the guests inside until I got the right room. Before I could start, however, I spotted two men standing near an accent table, heads close together like they were deep in conversation. I hurried toward them, hoping they were the ones who wanted the drinks.

  As I drew closer, I realized they were arguing in hushed tones.

  “You have no idea if that’s true or not. She could easily open her mouth,” the one on the left said.

  “But you have no idea if she will, do you?” the other retorted. “You saw her earlier. She loves it. She won’t say anything.”

  I cleared my throat to announce my presence, and the men whirled around. “What do you want?” the first one asked. “Can’t you see we’re trying to have a private discussion?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, my voice coming out in a nervous squeak. “I was just wondering… did you order these French martinis?”

  “No.”

  The man who’d spoken turned his gaze away. Before I lost the other man’s attention as well, I dared to speak up again. “I’m sorry. I’m just confused about who ordered these drinks. They left a flower emoji in the message, but it’s very generic-looking, so I’m not sure…”

  I trailed off as the second man snatched the phone from me and glanced at the most recent message. “Looks like a rose to me,” he said.

  He showed the phone to his friend, who barely glanced at it before shrugging and muttering, “Give her the fucking key, then. They obviously want more stuff in the Rose Room.”

  The other man reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. It was a long, old-fashioned type with an elaborately-patterned gold ornament at the end. “Just put it back on this table after you’re done,” he said. “I’ll get it later.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I murmured.

  The men returned to their hushed argument as I stepped away, wondering what the hell was going on. None of the other rooms required me to have a key, but apparently this Rose Room was different. I had no idea why.

  At least I knew where I was supposed to go now, though.

  I trudged down the hall and located a central room with a beautiful go
lden rosette on the door. I tentatively knocked, just in case, and when there was no answer, I slid the key into the lock and turned it sideways. It unlocked with a soft click.

  I pushed the door open with one hand while balancing the drinks tray in the other.

  “What the hell is this?” I muttered to myself as I took in my new surroundings. I was in some sort of library, if you could even call it that—it was narrow, musty-smelling and dim with dust collected everywhere. Spiderwebs were woven around shelves and the books sitting on them, and a tiny table and singular chair was crammed into a corner, just as old and dirty as the rest.

  I was about to leave, figuring I had the wrong room after all, when I noticed a lot of footprints in the dust, all heading toward the tall bookshelf at the back of the space. They looked fresh.

  Frowning, I set the drinks down on the little table and stepped over to the shelf. I scratched at my cheek and tilted my head to one side as I stared up at it. One of the books was sticking out from the rest. It was the only one that wasn’t covered in dust, too. Leather-bound with gold lettering on the side.

  I gingerly reached up to pull it all the way out, and then I jumped back with wide eyes as the shelf slowly began to swing around.

  “Awesome,” I whispered. As a child, I’d dreamed of living in a mansion with secret rooms and passageways hidden behind walls and shelves. The Connery family actually got to live out that fantasy every single day.

  On the other side of the shelf lay an even smaller room. There was nothing in here but a set of wooden spiral stairs, coiling upward at a scarily-steep angle. Each step had a rosette engraved on its side, just like the door that led into this place.

  By now, I had a distinct feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be in here, manifesting in tingles and goosebumps all over my arms and chest. The men who directed me here were probably just distracted with their heated conversation and didn’t realize that I didn’t belong in this place, and that was why they gave me the key.

  I decided to explore anyway. There was just no way I could walk out of here right now. My curiosity about those spiral stairs would probably haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn’t venture up them and check it all out.